Caterina spent her whole life being underlooked and misunderstood.
Hatice spent her whole teenage years chasing a man who loved another.
But Hüsniye became more than a pawn. She became a queen. She conquered the heart of the Ottoman Sultan, the hear...
Murad sat beside me in my chambers, cradling Süleyman in his arms with a tenderness that caught me off guard. His gaze lingered on the twins, moving between their tiny faces as though he still couldn't believe they were real.
"You look at them like they're made of gold," I teased softly, rocking Abdullah in my arms as his eyes began to flutter closed. "Are you planning to keep them in a treasure chest?"
Murad chuckled, but there was something wistful in his smile. "I can't help it. Two sons at once... Allah has truly blessed us, Hatice'm."
I couldn't help but smile at his joy, but a flicker of irritation tugged at me. His enthusiasm for the twins, while heartwarming, made me wonder if he viewed our other children with the same awe. It was a dangerous thought—a father could never afford to have favorites, not in our world. Children were not competitors; they were blessings, each one unique and irreplaceable.
"What a beautiful song you were singing earlier," Murad said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. "Was it Spanish?"
"Yes," I replied, adjusting Abdullah's blanket. "It's a lullaby my mother used to sing."
Murad turned to me, his brow furrowing in surprise. "Your mother? That's the first time you've spoken about her—or your family at all. Why is that?"
I hesitated, my fingers tracing the embroidery on Abdullah's blanket. It wasn't that I intentionally avoided the topic; it was simply that the memories were painful and distant, like a scar I preferred not to touch.
"You are my family now," I said finally, meeting his gaze. "I have more love for this family—the one I've built with you, our children, and the people around us—than I ever had for the one I was born into."
Murad studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, gently, he asked, "Are you comfortable telling me why?"
I exhaled slowly, laying Abdullah down in his crib before sitting back beside Murad. "I was born into a loveless household," I began, my voice steady but laced with bitterness. "My father was a cruel, angry man. He ruled our family with fear, not love. My mother, on the other hand, was cold and calculating. She cared for nothing but appearances and power. Together, they saw their children not as blessings, but as tools."
Murad's jaw tightened. "How many siblings did you have?"
"Fourteen," I said, the word tasting sour on my tongue. "The Costa family was infamous in Milan for our... abundance. But we were not born out of love. My parents wanted heirs, pawns to marry into noble families, or leverage for political alliances."
I looked down at my hands, remembering the faces of my siblings—some blurred with time, others etched into my memory. "My brothers Matteo and Nico were sent to join the Catholic Church when I was ten. They were my favorites, the kindest of my siblings, but they were taken away from me and molded into cardinals. Giulia, my twin sister... she was the most beautiful among us. That beauty became her curse."
Murad's hand covered mine, his warmth steadying me. "What happened to her?"
"She was sent to become the mistress of a duke when we were twelve," I said quietly, my voice heavy with sorrow. "Our parents paraded her like a prize animal at market until they found someone powerful enough to take her. And me?" I laughed bitterly. "They sold me. They heard about your mother, Haseki Nurbanu Sultan, and how she rose from slavery to become one of the most powerful women in the empire. They thought I could do the same. So, they sold me to traders without a second thought."
Murad's grip on my hand tightened, his knuckles white. "Who would do such a thing to their own child?"
"For years, I wondered the same," I admitted, my voice trembling with suppressed anger. "When I became a mother myself, I thought I might understand. But I don't. If anything, I hate them more now. I look at our daughters—Mihrimah, Hanzade—and I can't fathom ever betraying them the way my parents betrayed me. If anyone dared to harm even a hair on their heads, I would—" I broke off, my voice shaking. "I would be granted a place in hell."
Murad pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as though he could shield me from the ghosts of my past. "You are nothing like them, Hatice. You are kind, strong, and loving. You've endured so much, yet you've given our children a mother who would do anything for them. They are lucky to have you. I am lucky to have you."
I rested my head against his shoulder, tears pricking my eyes. "Thank you, Murad. You have no idea what that means to me."
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We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the soft breathing of our sons in their crib. For the first time in years, I felt lighter, as though sharing my pain had loosened the chains of my past.
Murad finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Your parents may have sold you, but they didn't define you. You've built something beautiful here, Hatice. Never forget that."
I nodded, a small smile touching my lips. "And I'll protect it with everything I have."
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Finally some of Caterina's (Hatice) backstory!
family tree thus far:
Şehzade Murad + Baş Kadın Safiye ⸺Hümaşah Sultan (16/05/1564) ⸺Şehzade Mehmed (8/07/1566) ⸺Şehzade Mahmud (22/01/1568)
Şehzade Murad + Şemsirushar Hatun ⸺Rukiye Sultan (31/05/1566)
Şehzade Murad + Hatice Kadın ⸺Mihrimah Sultan (29/10/1566) ⸺Şehzade Selim (29/10/1566) ⸺Hanzade Sultan (15/1/1569) ⸺Şehzade Abdullah (17/12/1573) ⸺Şehzade Süleyman (17/12/1573)
Şehzade Murad + Şah Hatun ⸺Fahriye Sultan (8/1/1568)
