Muhtesem Yuzyil Imagines ♡

The Throne Wars Ch. 2 (By Aurelia_Borealis)

Draped in the finest silks known to man, head groaning from the weight of the jewels carefully embedded in her crown, shoulders squared back and eyes roaming, appraising. Hurrem has, like a stubborn weed, embedded herself into the foundations of this palace and this family. Your eyes follow the path of the perfectly coiled curls twisting around her high crown-

She thinks herself invincible, you realize.

Sitting upright with her hands resting on her lap, the length of her dazzling gown carefully, meticulously draped around her feet, the jewels in her kaftan glinting in time with the flicker of the fire. She has withstood the toils and turmoil of a life which should leave a man's shoulder's hunched, his spirit broken, his head down.

But, like a flame refusing to burn out, like a drowning sailor refusing to let the waves engulf him as he stubbornly holds on to a rope, here she sits.

Unbowed and unbroken.

Your face is perfectly schooled into a mask of serendipity as you sit on a low-backed stool, your shoulders swaying gently with the time of the beat as the musicians string their harps and delicately whistle the lute. With a slight smile, a practiced smile, you look around the harem. A cluster of girls dance to the tune of the music, gently twirling, gently humming.

The Agas and Kalfas stand by the sides, keeping a trained eye on the girls, looking around and making sure everything is in perfect order. The slaves stand still as statues by their Sultana's side, heads down, but alert for any orders.

Softening your sharp gaze, you note that they bow their heads not only out of fear, but also out of respect.

She is not royal by birth, and yet she commands the entire attention of the room. She is not royal by birth, and yet every slave in this harem is trained to treat her as though she may as well be. She is not a member of this precious dynasty, yet it is her who will leave a legacy.

It irks you, as it has irked those before you, how this woman who was nothing but the daughter of a priest, heir to nothing, important to no one, has slithered like a snake into this family and will be known to history, whilst you will be forgotten.

You are not foolish, you are not idealistic. It is but a stroke of blessed luck that you were born as Sah Sultan, sister to the King, a Sehzadi by her own right. But you are simply one of many. This title that belongs to you is nothing that which you have earned. It is your luck, but it is also your tragedy. History will not remember you, because you are not special.

But she is.

She is the serpent known to all but One. She is the wolf that has been caged, that has been burnt, that has been thrown to the predators, but who has always returned with a vengeance.

Indomitable, invincible.

This is the Damascan steel that sings with sharpness and stabs with swiftness. This is the fury, the snake whose slow-working venom takes years to show its symptoms, that lulls you into a false sense of security whilst it consumes your bones, travels through your blood, leaving nothing untouched, nothing unscarred. This is a patient enemy, a formidable foe.

You're not one to charge headfirst into battle, oblivious to the terrain around you, ignorant of your enemy. Patience is her biggest weapon, but it is also your strongest virtue.

Are you not two sides of the same coin? She has won thus far because at every turn she has been underestimated. She has won thus far because her enemies never offered her a chance for peace, but forced her to struggle to survive. No, you will not repeat those same mistakes.

You will welcome this snake into your nest with open and encouraging arms. You will soften your eyes and adorn an inviting grin. You will lure her out, decieiving her into thinking she slithers to safety and comfort. You will achieve this, at the expense of your sister's ire. But you will achieve this, with the approval and appreciation of your brother, the King.

You will invite her into your family, you will offer her the treat for which she has yearned for the most. You will play this little game of charades for as long as you deem necessary, as long as you need to earn her trust.

And when she searches for her enemies amongst the crowd, she will never realize her greatest foe was hiding in plain sight.