Chapter 6 – Silent Morning
The sun painted the domes of Topkapı Palace in gold, yet the morning had not fully awakened.
Even the birds sang in whispers.
Sultan Murad IV stood alone on a high balcony overlooking the Bosphorus.
Morning light stretched his shadow across the marble,
But even the longest shadows could not reach the depths of his thoughts.
His eyes were on the water—
But his mind was far deeper.
"Kösem…"
A name whispered within.
Not aloud—but echoing through every thought.
He knew well whose hands had carried Recep Pasha into the palace.
But he knew even better whose mind had placed him there.
Who had arranged for his sister Gaverhan to marry Recep?
Who insisted on offering him the Grand Vizier's seat?
Who spun her threads through the veins of the state—
Yet remained silent behind the curtain?
His mother.
Kösem Sultan.
A mother… a vizier… a shadow.
Murad clenched his teeth. His veins tightened.
The pain in his chest bled into fury.
He was angry—at her, and at himself.
How had I missed what was so clear for so long?
At that moment, three knocks came from the door behind him.
He did not turn.
The door opened with a whisper of silk.
A soft voice entered the chamber.
Gaverhan Sultan.
Her eyes showed the weight of a sleepless night.
Worry lingered across her face like a faded bruise.
"My Sultan…" she said, timid.
"Forgive me, but… Recep Pasha never returned to the palace last night.
He is not in the harem either.
We've sent word to the manors—nothing.
I fear something may have happened to him."
Murad remained turned toward the sea.
His eyes still fixed on the Bosphorus—
But now a different storm brewed inside.
Gaverhan didn't know.
That her husband had been captured.
That he now waited in the dungeons of Yedikule.
That he stood at the heart of treason.
Murad closed his eyes.
At that moment, he remembered:
The heaviest burden a Sultan bears…
is not the crown.
It is the truth.
He turned—but not to meet her eyes.
His voice, firm and measured:
"What must be done… will be done.
Don't worry, sister."
Gaverhan stepped forward.
"But I… I—"
He raised his hand.
"Return to the harem.
This matter is mine now."
She drew in a trembling breath, bowed her head, and quietly withdrew.
Murad was alone once more.
But now, there was no palace behind him—
No empire.
Only a brother.
Only a son.
And both were being eaten alive by doubt.
Back in the quiet halls of the palace, Gaverhan Sultan walked away—
but her heart was growing heavier.
Her brother's cold gaze.
His clipped words.
The silence in the corridors.
Something was wrong.
And her husband was missing.
She swallowed her tears.
Even the walls, it seemed, were afraid to whisper the truth to her.
Without realizing it, her steps led her to the upper quarters of the palace—
To the entrance of the Valide Sultan's chambers.
She knocked three times.
The door opened.
Fragrant notes of musk and amber drifted from within, both soothing and unsettling.
Kösem Sultan stood at the window, fingering a silk handkerchief embroidered with verses.
When she turned, her daughter stood in the doorway—head bowed.
"Mother… forgive me for disturbing you," Gaverhan said, voice trembling.
"But my husband… Recep Pasha did not return last night.
I am deeply afraid."
Kösem turned slowly.
Her eyes had no tears—
But they had seen too much.
Her face was composed, yet storms hid behind her gaze.
She was still beautiful—
Not the beauty of youth,
But of power sharpened over years.
Her gaze could raise a pasha… or bury him.
But who was Kösem Sultan?
Once the daughter of a Venetian merchant.
Her name had been Anastasia.
Kidnapped by pirates.
Brought to Istanbul as a slave.
Once wrapped in silk and caged in tulip gardens—
But captivity never broke her.
From chains, she had risen to rule.
Not just as a mother…
But as the unseen hand of empire.
She had raised sultans.
Bent viziers to their knees.
She was the master of the harem's games—
And the shadow behind the throne.
She walked slowly to a pitcher of rose sherbet.
Poured two glasses.
One for herself. One for her daughter.
"Recep Pasha has powerful enemies," she said calmly.
"In the palace, hatred spreads like fire.
But we must remain composed."
Gaverhan stepped closer.
"But mother… I beg your help. My brother—he's turned away from me."
Kösem sighed softly.
Sipped her sherbet.
"Murad turned from me long ago," she said.
"But remember—those who wait… will see.
Silence can be the greatest judgment of all."
And in that moment, for the first time—
Gaverhan saw something behind her mother's eyes.
A secret.
She knew something.
But wasn't saying it.
And that terrified her more.
Kösem watched her daughter's pleading face.
She wanted to reach out as a mother—
But another voice spoke inside her:
The voice of the state.
"Mother… please help me," Gaverhan whispered.
"I fear something terrible has happened to him."
Kösem turned her gaze back to the window.
Sunlight spilled over the Bosphorus—
But inside her heart, only gray clouds lingered.
She reached for Gaverhan's delicate hands.
Her voice, soft—almost tender:
"Every storm passes, my daughter.
But the wreckage it leaves behind… takes patience to clear."
Yet those words weren't for Gaverhan.
They were for herself.
I learned far too late what Recep Pasha had become.
It was I who brought him into the palace.
I made him Grand Vizier… because I needed him.
I thought I could use his strength.
But he… was already someone else's pawn.
By the time I realized it, Gaverhan was already wed.
Recep was no longer just a vizier—
He was family.
He had infiltrated our blood.
She paused.
Her hand trembled as she set down her glass.
Gaverhan still searched her eyes—
But Kösem was speaking to ghosts.
"Sometimes… it's the children who pay the price for our choices."
I raised him with my own hand.
Now… I must witness his fall.
But she showed none of this.
She turned with a faint, weary smile.
Stroked her daughter's hair.
"Be patient.
Where your tears fall… my heart falls too.
I will find your husband.
But you must think carefully about what exactly it is… you've lost."
Gaverhan laid her head in her mother's lap.
Tears fell silently.
And within those tears… Kösem's silent guilt remained hidden.
She had never been cruel enough to be a true executioner.
But never innocent enough to be only a mother.
Kösem stroked her daughter's head one last time.
Then whispered:
"Go now. Get some rest.
The palace prefers you standing tall."
Gaverhan bowed her head and left.
What lingered behind wasn't just tears—
It was the hollow look in her mother's eyes.
She had seen something in them.
But couldn't name it.
Not yet.
As soon as the door closed behind Gaverhan, Kösem Sultan turned her head slightly.
"Nigar Hatun."
Her voice was not loud—
But it carried the weight of a command long awaited.
Nigar Hatun, the head of the harem, entered immediately.
She bowed with practiced grace.
"Your command, Valide Sultan?"
Kösem walked slowly back to the window.
Her fingers touched the sheer curtain.
She parted it gently.
The Bosphorus glistened outside.
But she didn't turn as she spoke:
"There is a serpent coiled in the dungeons of Yedikule.
I will not cut off its head.
It will vanish.
Silently.
Leaving no trace.
No words."
Nigar's eyes widened slightly.
"Recep Pasha?"
This time, Kösem turned.
Her gaze had hardened into steel.
"I didn't write his ending.
But now… the pen is in my hand."
She approached.
Standing face-to-face with Nigar, she whispered like a breeze—
Yet her words struck like a blade.
"Poison.
Silent.
Clean.
Tomorrow night.
The guards will be changed.
The new one… will be ours."
Nigar bowed deeply.
"As you command."
Kösem gave the faintest nod, then whispered:
"Recep Pasha no longer belongs to the state…
Only to the dark."
Nigar withdrew in silence.
But the air in the chamber had changed.
The fragrance of amber still lingered—
But the meaning of the room was different now.
Kösem Sultan was alone.
She stood in the middle of the room for a moment—
Then returned to the window.
She stared at the Bosphorus
As if searching beneath the water
For a memory long drowned.
Her hands clasped in front of her.
Her lips moved barely, as if praying:
"Sometimes the greatest betrayal…
is given to the closest.
And the quietest verdict…
is pronounced in the heart."
Outside, the morning birds began to sing.
But inside the palace—
A deeper silence was growing.
The sky remained blue.
But the shadows of the palace grew longer.
And in those shadows, the will of the Valide Sultan
Was beginning to reshape the empire.
—
As Nigar Hatun exited the chambers of Kösem Sultan,
She looked around carefully.
The corridor seemed empty—
But she knew too well how far emptiness reached in the palace.
She paused beside a shadow on the wall.
Then whispered:
"Black cypress…"
From the edge of the stone, a figure emerged.
Slender.
Face veiled in black.
He neither spoke nor bowed.
He simply stood.
Nigar met his eyes—
Her voice sharp and absolute:
"Not tomorrow night.
Tonight.
Recep Pasha will not live another breath.
Silently.
Cleanly.
It is the Valide Sultan's will."
The shadowed man gave a single nod.
Then vanished—
Back into the darkness from which he came.
Nigar exhaled quietly.
She gripped the small bottle of rose oil in her palm.
"So much to do today," she muttered.
And turned toward the harem.
But elsewhere in the palace—
A plan was already in motion.
One no one had heard.
And it did not wait for nightfall.
The hands that held Recep Pasha's fate…
Had no intention of letting him live.
And those hands—
Did not wait.
The palace walls remained silent.
But the shadows inside them had begun to whisper…
To move…
To kill.