Conqueror | Murad III

chapter twenty-seven

My dearest children,

The twin boys, Abdullah and Süleyman, are a month shy of turning one, so I was finally able to find some time to write to you. What a wonderful year it has been for our family! Along with the boys, Rukiye has also blessed us in our unity.

My Mihrimah and Selim, you are now eight years old. Your intellect never fails to amaze me, along with your leadership during sibling play-dates. Mihrimah, with your warm brown curls and observant blue eyes, you have inherited the serenity of your great-aunt, a true Mihrimah in both name and spirit. Selim, my fiery redhead, your lively energy and sharp mind make you shine as brightly as the sun after which you were named.

My Hanzade, now almost six years old, my precious gem, you are so perceptive. With your delicate features and expressive eyes that seem to hold secrets only you can understand, you are my most thoughtful and curious child. You notice every detail, from the shifting seasons to the quiet emotions of those around you.

My Rukiye, my resilient darling, at only eight years old you have shown courage beyond your years. Your dark hair frames your determined face, and your playful smile lights up the darkest corners of the harem. You've embraced us all as your family, and it fills my heart to know that you call me "Valide."

Abdullah and Süleyman, my sweet twins, you are your father's treasures and a fifth of my pride. Abdullah, with your golden hair and sky-blue eyes, you're a rare jewel in this empire, your joyful spirit brightening even the hardest days. Süleyman, your soft brown curls and steady gaze remind me so much of your father when he was younger—strong, curious, and dependable.

Each of you is a masterpiece of Allah's creation, unique and irreplaceable. I am proud to be your mother and eager to see the incredible people you will grow to become. My love for each of you is boundless, and I hope you always carry that with you, no matter where life takes you.

With all my love and prayers,

Your mother, Hatice.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

We waited outside Nazperver's chambers, the muffled cries of labor spilling into the corridor. Şah and I exchanged amused glances every time she moaned, declaring, "My şehzade is coming!" I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Even with either twins, I hadn't felt the need to make announcements during my births. It was as if she needed the entire palace to witness her every moment.

"Another day, another bastard..." Safiye muttered under her breath, her tone cutting through the tension like a blade. Before my temper could flare, Raziye leaned down and started singing a cheerful Romanian tune to distract the children, her melodic voice drowning out the poison in Safiye's words.

"You might want to start thinking before you speak, Kadın," I murmured softly, casting a glance at her as I adjusted my veil. Her sharp glare told me she had more to say, but the piercing cry of a newborn interrupted whatever venom was on her tongue.

"Congratulations, Your Highness! Nazperver has given birth to a healthy şehzade!"

The words hit me harder than I'd anticipated. My lips moved in a whispered "Mashallah" as I struggled to steady my breathing. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Murad's gaze lingering on me. His eyes were filled with a mix of pride and concern. Lately, his love had been like a balm—his poems slipped under my pillow, meaningful gifts, shared meals—gestures that made me feel cherished. Yet moments like these reminded me of the fragility of our bond.

We adjusted our veils as we prepared for the naming ceremony. The harem grew quiet, whispers of forced congratulations circling among the women. Even with the shared courtesies, the tension was palpable. Few could tolerate Nazperver's arrogance, and fewer still were willing to mask it.