-Britain-

In a grand hall, its ceilings adorned with exquisite paintings, a long red carpet stretched between rows of gilded chairs.

Two men, robed in elegant black and red garments, sat upon their thrones, while a third stood before them, clutching a stack of papers in his hands.

“We have received no word yet?” the first man demanded, rising abruptly from his seat.

“Your Grace,” the man with the papers replied nervously, “it has not been long since we dispatched her, you know missions of this sort require time.”

The second man calmly set down the wine glass in his hand. “You must hasten this. Their dynasty must fall soon.” He raised an eyebrow. “She has likely forgotten herself. Have one of our spies threaten her, remind her of her mother and sisters.”

The first man resumed his seat, his voice cold. “Yes, let her feel fear and urgency. That will make her move faster. Then we shall eliminate them all.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Charlotte's POV

Three weeks have passed. I have neither seen Mehmed nor heard any news of him. I don’t know why, but it troubles me deeply. Is he truly ignoring me now? Yet I pushed him to it. I deeply regret it. After all his kindness, I let my anger lash out at him.

Despite all his power, he didn’t punish me, not even a revocation of the privilege of the favourites’ room. I had at least expected that, yet it never came.

“Why are you so upset?” Ayşe asked as she settled beside me.

“I do not know,” I replied softly.

She smiled faintly. “Is it because of Şehzade Mehmed?”

I remained silent for a while, but eventually, I admitted the truth. “Yes. I’m upset because he’s grown distant.”

She thought for a moment before saying, “Then you should apologise to him.”

My brows rose in surprise. “Are you serious?”

She looked at me firmly. “You made a mistake. You must apologise.”

Her words made sense, yet something held me back. “How? What if he refuses my apology?” Panic crept into my voice at the thought.

She stood and began pacing the room. “Write him a letter. Fahriye Kalfa will deliver it.” She came to stand before me. “Perhaps he will reject your apology, what you said was harsh, but if you are sincere, he will forgive you. He is kind.”

“Alright, I’ll think on it.” I picked up a book and spent the day reading.

That evening, I could not sleep.

Once Ayşe had drifted off, I retrieved my diary and wrote for over half an hour.

Growing restless, I put everything aside and went to her.

“Ayşe, wake up.”

“Mmm, what?” she murmured, turning away without opening her eyes.

“Get up, please.” After several fruitless attempts, I splashed a little water on her until she jolted awake in fright.

I stepped back laughing as she scowled. “Are you mad?”

“I tried waking you gently,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry, but I need your help.”

She grabbed a towel and began drying her face. “What is it?”

“I want you to write a letter for me.” I smiled. “You’ll help me with the apology.”

She arched an eyebrow, smiling. “Ah, I see matters of the heart have robbed you of sleep.”

I paid no mind to her words and began reciting exactly what I wished her to write:

“Dearest Prince Mehmed,
I know my words may have wounded you, and though I do not know if you still care, I cannot deny how deeply I regret them. They were thoughtless, spoken in haste and not from my heart.
I miss your smile, your presence, and the warmth of your voice.
With all sincerity, I offer my apology.
—The Butterfly”

The next morning, I rose at first light and handed the letter to Fahriye Kalfa, persuading her without much effort to see it delivered.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“Is my son within?” Hürrem Sultan asked, pausing before the prince’s door.

One of the guards shook his head. “No, Your Highness, he departed some time ago.”

“Then I shall await his return inside.” She stepped through the doorway, closing it gently behind her. Her gaze fell upon the desk, where his drawings lay scattered, she smiled, surprised by the delicate talent her son possessed.

She lingered for a moment, then sighed softly, wearied by his absence. As she turned to go, something caught her eye, a folded piece of paper resting on the chair he had last used.

She extended her hand, took the paper delicately, and began to read its contents in silence.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

T

wo days had passed, and still there was no word from the prince. By now, I was certain, he had cast me aside. Yet he once told me I was his harem, and that would never change. Was I now to spend the rest of my days in solitude, untouched by affection?

At last, I decided to leave my chambers after nearly a month of confinement. I gazed at my reflection, the colour had returned to my face, and the yellow gown I wore hugged my form perfectly.

I looked flawless.

“See what your idea has brought us to?” I muttered to Ayşe as we made our way toward Alice.

“I told you,” she replied, giving me a look, “you needed only to be patient.”

Just as I was about to sit, I caught sight of Fahriye Kalfa entering the harem and quickly made my way to her.

“Fahriye Kalfa,” I said, halting her with a gentle hand, “are you certain you delivered the letter?”

She nodded. “Yes, I left it on his chair, where he would see it straightaway.” She brushed past me, her voice rising. “Now leave me be, I’m unwell and need rest.” Turning to address the room, she added sharply, “I want no disturbances, I’m sick.” Then, to Ayşe, “Keep order while I’m gone. If anything arises, wake me.”

I returned to the others, yet my thoughts were consumed by the letter. I never imagined Mehmed capable of such coldness, he was more selfish than I had ever believed.

We ate our supper in silence, until one of the maids approached me.

“Hürrem Sultan wishes to see you,” she said.

Shocked, I exchanged brief glances with Alice and Ayşe before standing to follow.

What could she possibly want from me?

A wave of unease washed over me.

“Enter.”

I heard her voice from within before I entered and bowed slightly. "Sultanim."

"Come closer," she instructed, not looking up as one of the maids massaged her hair. "What is it that you're trying to do?"

"Excuse me, Sultanim?" I responded, taken aback.

She raised her hand, signaling the maid to step aside, then lifted her gaze to me. "I knew it was you who sent that letter to my son." She stood, walking toward me, her anger palpable. "It's good that I have it now," she said, standing directly before me. "Now I understand the cause of my son's foul mood these past weeks."

"Sultana..." I began, but my words were abruptly cut off as her slap landed hard across my face. A sharp sting shot through my skin, and tears welled in my eyes as I instinctively pressed my hand to my burning cheek.

"Stay away from him, or I will handle you in my own way," she finished coldly, then motioned for the guards to open the door.

I wanted to lash out at her, but something restrained me. Instead, I quickly turned and left her chamber, feeling suffocated by the palace walls. Once a valuable girl in my own home, now I was nothing but an object of disdain here.

As I hurried through the corridors, I crossed paths with Safiye Sultan and her entourage. The moment our eyes met, I gave a small, respectful bow. She studied me for a moment before continuing on her way.

I lied to the guards, as I always did, and found myself in the cursed garden, the only place where I could find solace.

I walked to the spot where Mehmed and I had shared that beautiful day a month ago. I entered one of the quiet corridors and collapsed to the ground, my sobs coming quietly but steadily.

"Mary?" I heard a familiar voice call out. Was it real, or just an illusion? I couldn't be sure.

I looked up to find Mehmed standing before me. In that moment, I didn’t know what to do or say; all I knew was that I needed someone. I quickly stood and embraced him, my tears soaking his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he placed a hand on my back and the other through my hair. "What happened?"

I couldn’t find the words to respond; I felt broken, lost, and weak.

After a moment, he gently moved my head away and cupped my face in his hands. "I know you think I don’t care," he sighed, wiping away my tears. "But I truly care about you. Please, tell me what's wrong, and I’ll find a way to fix it." He took my hand. "It’s cold here. You’ll get sick. Let’s go inside and talk."

I placed my hand over his to stop him. "No, please. I don't want to go in there." The memories of the abuse I had suffered inside the palace overwhelmed me, and I began to cry again.

He nodded in understanding and sat beside me, gently pulling me down with him. "Alright, we’ll stay here. Your comfort is what matters most."

I sat before him, holding his hands as I spoke. "I don’t understand why everyone keeps treating me this way," I said, looking into his eyes, the moonlight casting a soft glow on us. "What did I do wrong?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mary," he said, shaking his head. "But tell me who did this to you, and I’ll make sure they pay."

I lowered my eyes, pulling my hands from his. "You already know one of them, but you did nothing about it," I said, standing up to leave. But before I could, he quickly stood and grabbed my hand.

"Mary, you know the rules," he said helplessly. "It’s about my child. If there weren’t a child involved, she would’ve been punished long ago."

I shook my head, feeling drained and defeated. "There’s more that’s bothering me," I said quietly, "I’m sorry."

He looked at me, confused. "Don’t talk like that. I don’t understand what you’re saying."

Tears filled my eyes again. I placed my hands on my waist, feeling lost and overwhelmed. "The place inside... it’s unbearable. I’m trying, I really am." I began pacing, my emotions spiraling. "You have no idea, and YOU... you’ve ignored me too!"

He raised his hand, pointing at me. "Wasn’t this what you wanted?!"

"You don’t know what I want!" I shouted, storming toward him, my eyes filled with frustration. "I don’t even know what you want, because you pulled away so quickly without even..."

I didn’t finish my sentence as I suddenly felt his arms pull me close, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was unexpected, overwhelming, and impossibly sweet.

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes locked on mine as he whispered, "I want you."

I silenced my thoughts, choosing to follow my heart instead of my mind. I ran my hand gently over his cheek, then leaned in again for another kiss. This one was different—calm, yet filled with passion.

We moved back inside, entering Mehmet's room. We collapsed onto his bed, and I rested my head on his chest as he began to run his fingers through my hair.

"I even sent you a letter with Fahriye Kalfa," I said softly, tracing his other hand with my fingers.

He looked at me in surprise. "I never received any letter."

"Of course not," I raised my head, meeting his gaze. "Hurrem Sultan found it and confronted me about it this evening."

He raised an eyebrow. "So she’s invading my privacy? What happened during this conversation?"

I sighed softly. "She told me to stay away from her son, that I was spoiling his mood, and that I wasn’t good for him." I kept it brief, leaving out the part about the slap I’d received.

He gently ran his fingers over my cheek. "Don’t worry. It won’t happen again."

I smiled faintly and leaned in to kiss him again, my head resting once more on his chest. I hadn’t expected to feel all these emotions, but here I was, next to him.

I tried to distance myself from him, to see him as a heartless prince—but the truth was, everything about him was perfect, everything about him was beautiful. I never imagined my first kiss would be like this, nor that it would be with the prince of the Ottoman Empire. Thoughts of him consumed me until, without realizing it, I fell asleep in his arms.