dilşah was a proud woman but even proud women, with their barbed-wire hearts and their steel-trap souls, were not immune to frivolous, saccharine flattery now and again. even more so, dilşah would admit to having a sweet tooth; her cravings for sugary plums, marmalades as juicy and as candied as ripe apricots, and the marzipan her father would once grant her as a form of contraband satisfied by the honeyed turn-of-phrases that spilled from the duke’s lips, whether consciously or not, and the compliment that sounded from his throat every other word. her lips fostered the warmth of her reception, rosebuds lifted and curved into a sly grin that would either appear to make a mockery of the young duke, or to parley with him –– join in his coquetry, even as subtly as a woman of her station would allow. then, came a sudden and snappish: “how do you wager that my husband is dead?”
rarely did dilsah think on her husband; even more seldom did she speak of him, and had only once or twice intoned the syllables that forged his name. the tall and imposing sanjak of albania. was she proud that she had married such a man? certainly. but she was prouder, still, that she had succeeded to such honourable heights in his wake? yes, that too; though she was certain that ahmet would be proud of her all the same. adjusting the veil that flowed from her head, situated there with emerald pins and diamond clasps, dilşah continued in a softer, more amiable tone, “for all you know, i could still be a wife yet. and, no –– you do not remind me of him. for starters, you are at least twenty years younger. and, only so that there is not a matter of dispute between us, i will be thirty by next spring.” her brows knitted together curiously, a then inquisitive expression crossing her features. “you must think that is old. when i was your age, i thought it was ancient. praise be to allah that my facilities are still in working order,” she chuckled slyly, “for in my own estimation, i thought i would be an old bat by now; blind and deaf and possibly greying, too.”
dilşah contemplated her words once spoken. she’d divulged much to the duke. the cariye was not a quiet woman by nature, nor shy, but she wasn’t extroverted, either; loquaciousness, her mother told her, was unbecoming in a woman. and yet –– she found admissions slipping past her own barriers and defenses to the duke with ease. “has anyone ever told you, your grace, that you are an easy conversationalist? forgive me if i disallow you from getting a word in edge wise; ‘tis not my intent. please, tell me, how old are you really?”
she had not spared her knight the honor of thanking him, but she would not languish in his trap as a damsel in distress any longer than she needed to. her hand swept along the brocade of her bodice, then traveled to her scalp to realign her headdress as her posture popped back into ramrod rigidity and she continued along the well-walked path creating a shadow in the verdant grass. she wondered, briefly, what sort of woman his gallantry might have ensnared. she was not blind to his fairness, the piercing nature of his eyes as they settled heavily upon her. and, she wondered, if she were not her mother’s daughter, would she have blushed as his wide palms treaded the svelte edges of her waist? would girlishness and fondness for frivolity have been purchased at a lower price, happiness held tantamount to pride of position, if she were not her cutthroat self true to her core?
( ––– perhaps she would make a visit, this night, to yusuf pasha; after all, she had not allowed him the pleasure of her midnight company in sometime, not since leaving from constantinople, and she evidently had an itch to scratch that was brought to the surface of her pondering as the duke’s touch seared across her hips, burning through the various layers of exquisite silks and taffetas she wore. )
“very well, your grace.” she inhaled a quick intake of breath, not turning to stop and look at him as she remarked: “my name is dilşah, my lord, of house özdemir. i am the cariye to the valide sultan. does that satisfy your curiosity, or need i go on?”
⇢ Marriage was a factor in nobles and royals which seemed to control and manipulate many aspects of their lives as if a beneficiary betrothal was crucial to living. Regardless of the fact that Matthias did not happen to develop into a coquettish and amorous man, there was a myriad of those in the Kingdom of Sweden who believed the young Duke to be as charming and appealing as ever, wishing to take his coarse hand in marriage. Numerous offers were given and various compromises were proposed for betrothals to ladies of small states, and as it became his decision to declare after Sverre Haraldssen’s death, he declined each request. It was not that their seemingly insignificant titles were unappealing to him, as he did not necessarily hold a desire for increased power or land in his heart; he wished for his life - long partner to be an individual who he was both impressed and enamored with, someone who would never lose his attention or love. The newfound rådgivare of the Queen had no connection of this sort to any women offered, and while perhaps a number of citizens looked down upon Matthias for these decisions, he was unbothered by the judgment.
He wondered if he made a mistake in expressing his sorrows for her due to her husband --- it was possible she made an error specifically choosing her words, and he assumed too hastily in an attempt to be polite. The thoughts that it would be extremely unfortunate for his sake if she was spoken for began to cross his mind, though he had no place to be conjuring such beliefs as he had just become acquainted with the woman before him whose worth could possibly put the wealth of Skåne to shame. Even the delicately detailed clothing which obviously was tailored from precious materials that laid upon her skin did not rival her apparent beauty in his piercing blue eyes, causing him to be utterly conflicted over the situation at hand. “ I apologize greatly if I am mistaken, my lady, I am sure your husband is a very successful and grand man if he has you by his side, ” Once again apologizing to her, the nerves within the young Duke’s body began to rise, almost hating the impression he could possibly be giving --- he only hoped that she appreciated his efforts to appeal to her somewhat, as his habit of over-processing his actions began to consume him internally. “ If I am to be apparent with you, I believe women of your maturity to be more intriguing. You have aged impressively if you are to be thirty, my lady, I never would have assumed you have graced the Earth with your presence for that period of time. ”
It was not that he shared the same sentiments towards her perception of her age, he simply did not want to argue with the girl --- why would he do so if he already believed to have ruined his chances? The least he could do at this stage of the encounter was continue to speak his positive opinions on the woman, as he did truly mean every word he spoke, being the honest man that he is. It was surprising that the Duke of Skåne was seen as a socially inclined person, from how often he became drowned with his thoughts and ideas of others and himself. He was not expecting her to ask of his age from him, causing a small grin to creep upon his expression, and a wave of relief washed over his concerns as she complimented his welcoming conversation skills, just as the tide would wash the dreary coasts of the merchant Duchy he claimed. “ I am frequently given compliments on the matter, my lady, though I do not understand how others perceive me in such a way. I appreciate the pleasantries from you, however genuine they may be since you seem to be such an esteemed lady, I do wonder what the people within the Ottoman Empire think of you, ” A habit that came with his personality was his rambling that came naturally from his nerves, and while some found this to be endearing, he found it to be a flaw. “ I just became twenty - two years of age within early April, marking two years as a guest with the French. These two years have been quite challenging, however; I feel as if I have aged a decade. ” The smile from previous moments remained upon his expression, a lighter and more joking tone coming to his thickly accented voice as he attempted to distract himself from his worries.
Even though the conversation had progressed from the accidental and unfortunate trip the almost heavenly woman took which Matthias saved her from, his rough and quite large hand longed to be at her side once more, as it was a pleasing feeling --- not necessarily in a lustful sense, perhaps he wasn’t entirely certain of the underlying reason for this want, all he knew was that it was one of the many conflicts at the forefront of his mind. He was impressed by the fact that she did not even bother to thank him much, and spared him unnecessary gratitudes. She was definitely unique to those who attempted to gain his affections in Sweden, or wherever else his travels took him, which caused his stomach to turn and his heart to twist. He was unsure of what he would do after this encounter, or how he would process the conversation he participated in with her --- most likely, he would spend the approaching hours and minutes overanalyzing each word chosen by both him and her.
Or, perhaps, he would spend the rest of the time which the day held with the Dowager Queen of Sweden herself, the woman he was quite literally indebted to with his position. While she had not even been acquainted with Matthias until he arrived in France those years ago, they had proven to become arguably familiar with each other, perhaps more so than would be acceptable for their positions. Her company had proven to be beneficial to both parties, whether it was just platonic conversations or perhaps further, like the few intimate nights they shared on the spur of a moment. She would serve as a decent distraction to whatever may be on his mind after being so close to Dilşah, Cariye to the Valide Sultan. Of course, he had no idea what this title meant as he was not informed on Ottoman affairs, but he was just content to know her name --- it was a fascinating namesake, and seemed to befit the girl before him as he appreciated the way it slipped out of her lips coated with the light voice she had. “ I am glad you have finally decided to tell me, Dilşah, it sounds very elegant. I will not force you to speak more of your personal matters, my lady, as I just realized I have other duties to tend to. ” In all honesty, he had wanted to end the interaction at a decent moment when she seemed content enough with him, hoping she would remember him in a positive light.
“ I must return to Her Highness, the Queen of Sweden. I hope I may be able to speak further with you soon, Dilşah, this introduction won’t leave my mind easily. ”
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