|Helena's POV|

-The Holy Roman Empire, 1660-

"Gisela!" I called out in frustration, hurrying out of my room. "Where is my pearl ring?" The words weren’t so much a question as a warning, knowing full well that my fourteen-year-old sister had a habit of sneaking off with my jewelry without asking.

"Mother, help me!" She lifted her dress and began to run when she saw me. "Oh my God, Lady Emiliana, help me!" She threw herself at Emiliana, my mother’s assistant and one of her ladies-in-waiting.

"Please, Emiliana, don’t interfere." I stepped closer to Gisela, extending my hand in front of her. "Give me the ring, now."

"Come on, girls, you're acting as if there's only one pearl ring in the entire palace!" Lady Emiliana chuckled, then dismissed us with a wave as she continued on her way toward my mother’s chambers.

"Alright, alright... Helena," my sister panted, catching her breath. "I’ll give you your ring, but I want something in return."

"What is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and placing my hands on my hips, bracing myself for her usual conditions. This was the only way I’d get my favorite ring back.

"I want to borrow something from you," she said, taking a few steps closer and eyeing me with a strange, almost persuasive look.

"What is it?" I asked with a small smile, eager to wrap up this deal.

"You have a stunning golden dress in your wardrobe that you’ve never worn," she remarked, clasping her hands dramatically. "Let me take it to wear at Mother’s charity gala next week."

"At first, you wanted to borrow it, and now you want to take it?" I averted my eyes, thinking it over. "Fine, I agree... I wasn’t planning to wear it anyway."

She jumped with joy, as if she had accomplished something monumental, then pulled the ring from beneath her dress.

"Here’s your precious ring, and I…" She pointed to herself. "I’ll go get the golden dress that’s now mine."

I chuckled, watching her until she vanished from view, then slipped on my ring and made my way to my mother’s chambers.

I opened the door to find my mother, Empress Joanna, seated on her throne, wearing a dark brown dress and a simple crown atop her head. She appeared engrossed in reviewing some papers with Lady Emiliana, likely preoccupied with preparations for the charity event next week.

"My dear Helena," she lifted her gaze and regarded me with a warm smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Mother," I remarked, approaching her and settling onto a small couch beside her throne. "It seems there’s much to be done."

"Yes, there is much to be done," she responded with a playful wink and a smile, then turned to Lady Emiliana. "Has His Majesty and His Highness returned yet?"

She shook her head. "No... not yet."

I don’t know why, but an unsettling feeling stirred within me. My father, Emperor Rudolf II, and my brother, Prince Mattias, had gone to hold an important meeting with the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire.

They claimed the two hoped to reach a truce and forge a strong bond between the empires. But deep down, I feared the meeting hadn’t gone well. From what I had heard, the Ottomans seemed on the brink of declaring war at any moment, and I couldn’t shake the unease I felt about them.

At that moment, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening as my brother entered, proclaiming, "Good morning to my beautiful, amazing, gorgeous mother!"

My mother stood, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Finally..." After giving him a hug, she stepped back, her gaze locking with his. "I was just asking about you and your father."

"My father went to finish some important business, and as soon as I arrived at the palace, I came straight to check on you," he explained calmly, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"So how did things go?" my mother asked, this time more seriously, knowing the importance of this meeting.

"Let’s just say the talks were successful," he said with a light sigh, then took his seat, gesturing for us to do the same. "Their Sultan is remarkably astute, and we’ve reached an agreement to solidify our alliance."

"What is it?" my mother inquired, her posture unwavering as she remained standing.

"The solution everyone turns to in alliances, to ensure they endure and are built on trust," he said, his gaze steady and serious. "A marriage, of course, after negotiating the terms on both sides."

My eyes widened in surprise, while my mother, brother, and Lady Emiliana remained composed, their expressions unreadable.

"You’re not serious, are you?" my mother asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

It was likely he would be married to an Ottoman princess, as political marriages were common among kingdoms. She was well aware of that custom, but she had been hoping for a different outcome.

"No... no... they do have a princess, but from what I’ve learned, a Muslim girl cannot marry a Christian," he clarified quickly. "They haven’t made a final decision yet, but it seems one of our ministers’ daughters will marry the Sultan’s grand vizier’s son."

"Ah, that's good," my mother sighed with relief, and I noticed how tense she had been.

It was clear she hoped to see my brother—the heir to the throne—wed to a European princess named Rosalie. I didn’t know the girl personally, but ever since meeting her at a charity event, my mother had spoken of her with constant praise. Over time, she’d grown close to Rosalie’s mother, and now, she seemed to be waiting patiently for the perfect moment to set her plan in motion.

"I'll go check on your father," she stood up calmly and then left with Lady Emiliana and another maid.

"So," Mattias said with a playful smile as he turned to me, "it's a great honor to finally meet you in this vast palace." His teasing made me laugh—after all, I did spend half my time tucked away in my room with books, and the other half wandering the gardens with my friends, who were, of course, my ladies-in-waiting.

"Yes, you should be grateful to be in the presence of Princess Helena herself," I raised my hand, tossing my hair back with a feigned vanity.

"Everyone talks about you, Helena," he raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing new," I replied quietly. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but lately, people have been speaking of my beauty, calling me the most beautiful princess the Habsburg Dynasty has ever seen. As a result, marriage proposals seem to come from every direction. Yet, I can't help but feel unprepared. After all, I’m still only nineteen.

I know nineteen isn’t particularly young. Princesses like me are often married off by the time they're fourteen or fifteen. Still, I don’t feel ready for it, and I’m grateful my parents aren’t pressuring me. Perhaps they, too, are waiting for the right moment, just like I am.

"Of course, you won’t be getting married before me," he teased, snapping me out of my thoughts as he playfully tugged at my hair. He then reached for an apple on the table, standing up with a smirk. "Alright, Princess, I've got things to take care of. Not all of us have the luxury of free time like you."

"Ow!" I winced as my hair was tugged sharply, causing me to quickly grab another apple and throw it at him. But by the time I aimed, he had already closed the door behind him, disappearing in an instant.

I couldn't help but laugh as I thought about what he had said. Honestly, I was grateful to be a princess rather than the heir to the throne. I cherished my freedom, while Mattias was bound by the weight of responsibility, always having to walk in our father’s footsteps. He was expected to be at our father’s side at all times, carrying the same heavy burden of duties. The expectations placed on him were immense, and I knew it wasn’t an easy weight to bear.

»»-----　♔　-----««

|3rd Person POV|

-The Ottoman Empire-

"Your Highness," a maid bowed respectfully before Valide Turhan Sultan, meeting her gaze. "His Majesty has arrived."

"Finally," she muttered, setting down her coffee cup as she rose to her feet. With a quick adjustment of her luxurious green dress, she made her way towards her son's chambers.

Although she had refrained from involving herself in politics for years, the meeting her son had attended just days ago was of great significance. Now that he had finally arrived, she knew it was time to learn what had transpired.

"Valide," he turned to her the moment he heard her footsteps. Stepping forward, he took her hand and kissed it gently.

"Thank God you arrived safely, aslanım," she murmured, her face lighting up with a smile as she exchanged a warm look with him. They both sat down on the couch on the balcony, settling into a comfortable silence.

"So?" A single word was all it took for Orhan to understand exactly what his mother was asking.

"As expected," he replied, his expression neutral as he folded his hands. "Everything went as planned. Of course, they wouldn’t pass up any chance to strengthen their ties with us."

"That's good," she clasped her hands together, her gaze steady. "At what cost?" she added, fully aware that there were always certain conditions attached.

"We established terms that were acceptable to both sides, and everyone agreed," he explained, meeting her gaze once more. "As is customary, there must be a marriage between the two empires to ensure lasting harmony. After all, such unions carry great importance."

"Yes, exactly," Turhan replied, her voice betraying a hint of excitement she struggled to contain. This was exactly what she had been hoping to hear. Why? Well, she had her plans. "Who?"

"We haven’t decided yet; we’ll discuss it later, but..." he trailed off, his gaze turning thoughtful as he looked up at the sky. "Perhaps Ömer bey will marry one of their ministers' daughters."

Turhan’s eyes widened, and she fought to control her reaction. Damn it, this was not the outcome she had anticipated.

"Why Ömer bey with one of their ministers' daughters?" she inquired, an eyebrow arched in clear irritation. "A political alliance of this magnitude requires a union between the two dynasties," she explained swiftly, her voice resolute.

"It’s not feasible in this case," he responded, a hint of confusion crossing his face as he assumed she was referring to his younger sister, Zeynep Sultan, the only one of his sisters still unmarried. His other half-sisters were already wed, and the youngest was still far too young.

"I'm talking about you," she finally expressed, the words she had been wrestling with for days now out in the open.

"Me?" he asked with a mocking smile, as if he had just heard a joke. "You must be joking, Valide."

"No, I am not," she replied with unwavering seriousness, meeting his gaze directly.

"Valide, we've had this conversation before," he remarked, rising to his feet. He took a few steps back, resting his hands against the marble edge of the short balcony wall.

"Will you remain like this for the rest of your life?" she asked, rising and stepping toward him, her tone steady yet resolute as she sought to reason with him. "It has been three years since her passing. It is time to move forward. You are a sultan, with duties that cannot be neglected."

"It matters not how much time has passed, Mother... she was the only woman with whom I ever felt truly at peace, and she is the mother of my son and daughter—not just anyone," he replied quietly, his voice thick with sorrow, laden with the weight of deep, unhealed pain.

"Orhan," she murmured, placing her hand on his shoulder and looking at him with a tender gaze. "Every great man requires a woman by his side. I understand you’ve withdrawn from your harem, but I firmly believe a political marriage would serve you well. Your son and daughter deserve a mother figure in their lives as well."

He sighed deeply, his tone firm. "You are enough for them, Valide."

"Nevertheless, they need her," she insisted, delicately taking his hand in hers. "Do this for me. You cannot imagine how much this would benefit everyone."

He held her gaze, contemplating the matter for her sake, while Turhan Sultan's mind raced with countless thoughts.

She was determined to bring an end to the Sultanate of Women, and now that Orhan had a son, she feared a concubine might rise to power. The first thing such a woman would likely do was eliminate Şehzade Ahmed.

In her mind, marrying her son to a princess seemed the wisest choice. A princess would not seek titles for herself and would serve as a fitting wife to a Sultan, this was what she longed for.

Her greatest fear, however, was the resurgence of a concubine who would once again ascend to the sultanate, repeating the dark history of murder, betrayal, and crime that had stained the past.