Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Late July, 1855

Dolmabahçe Palace,

Ottoman Empire

To say the meeting between Northern Scandinavia and Southern Persia was greatly anticipated would have been of great underestimation.

When the sultan had first received the letter from the Queen of Arendelle, he had considered it a mere fancy by a young girl- and in turn, given the letter to his chief consort, who had immediately written to the young queen. Over the years, something of a friendship had developed out of the correspondence between the two women- Elsa had spoken of the trials of pregnancy and motherhood, and while Servetseza had never known pregnancy and childbirth herself, she had borne witness to several of the other wives in their time, attended to them and helped them through their pain, even being the unfortunate witness to at least one death in childbirth, though the majority of the wives who had passed had done so due to the sickness of Consumption which had ravaged the empire on and off since the early eighteen-forties- of which, the sultan saw it as of the utmost importance to make sure everything was as clean and safe as possible for the visiting royals.

They had considered postponing the meeting, but upon realizing that the battle with the Russians could last another year or more, it was imperative something be done- be it trade agreements or alliances- before the fighting became too much. Besides, the sultan viewed the Scandinavian royals as allies, especially once he learned that the Queen of Britain, who had taken a stance with him against the Russians, was allied with the Scandinavian monarchs. He hoped, that despite the sickness that raged the outer areas around the palace, it and the war would stave off long enough for him to build something with the Scandinavian rulers.

A hush fell over the court as the King of the Southern Isles escorted the Queen of Arendelle, the princess had been announced first, hands folded in front of her- as was custom in Scandinavia; the ruling monarch always- always- entered last, for they were the most important. Both monarchs were dressed in their finest; the king's auburn curls shone like the captured rays of a setting sun, while the queen's snow-white locks were pulled back into a beautifully elaborate braid at the back of her head, a glittering tiara nestled within her curls. The gown she wore- a soft, shimmering blue reminiscent, and appeared to be made of, the seas- hugged her curves and slightly exposed the pale skin of her neck and shoulders, the skirt belling out slightly.

The sultan straightened, drinking in the remarkable beauty of the Scandanavians; such pale skin was unheard of, let alone unseen, in the Ottoman Empire. The king bowed in acknowledgement, before releasing the queen's hand, but she did not bow as her sister had before scampering to the side. Instead, the young queen- for it was evident now to the sultan that all three were his age, younger or older by perhaps a year or two- turned her gaze to the sultan, lifting her chin. He narrowed his gaze briefly, studying the woman, this monarch who had appeared to conquer all of the western world with her words and mind alone, before standing.

He made his way towards her, until they stood perhaps a foot apart. She met his gaze, and merely smiled softly at him, the meaning in such a subtle gesture clear, I bow to no man, be he Sultan or King. You are my equal, just as I am yours.

After a moment, the sultan, in a move that stunned his court, held out a hand, and after a moment, the queen slowly rested her hand within his; as the two bowed to each other, the young sultan couldn't help glancing at their joined hands, surprised to see a light sheen of water slowly evaporating in his palm as she pulled her hand away.


"The craftsmanship is... absolutely remarkable. The masonry alone is-"

Elsa glanced beside her, silent, a soft smile tugging at her lips; she knew that her husband, brilliant as he was, couldn't resist studying the architecture of the palace of the sultan and his family. The visiting royals had been put into private quarters not far from the royal family's quarters, and over the course of the next few hours, they had been taken on a tour of the sprawling palace grounds. "Of course you would find the architecture remarkable, my dearest. When you are not ruling the Isles or helping me to raise our children, you are sketching out designs for new buildings-"

"One must be willing to build their empire not just from the mud and soil, but from the mind, darling. Our dynasties would not have begun had Gods alive chosen our ancestors to build from the ground beneath their feet, without those same gods in mind." He leaned down, kissing her quickly on the mouth to stop her counterargument before she had a chance to consider it, before pulling away with a nod. The Snow Queen opened her mouth to speak, even as she felt an arm slip around hers and turned, to find a woman only a year apart from her in age at her side. Draped in beautiful silks of soft orange, she was of pale skin- though not as pale as Elsa- and bore dark hair, which was covered with a matching veil.

"Ser... vet... seza." The woman's smile told her she'd pronounced it right, despite the unfamiliar spelling.

"It is... wonder... ful to meet you..." She stopped, thinking. "... after so many... letters... Eli... sa... vet." Servetseza had spent the last couple years over their correspondence learning English- she had tried to learn Norwegian, but it was proving much more difficult, and in the end, she could only say a few words- so that the two women could communicate with each other instead of having to rely fully on translators. The queen opened her mouth to correct her, before realizing that 'Elisavet' was the closest thing to her birth name in their language.

Gently, the queen covered the other woman's hand with hers. "It's wonderful to meet you, too." They fell into easy conversation as they continued through the grounds; eventually, the other woman spoke up, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

"The... other wives... they... to... to meet you..."

"Me?" Elsa felt her eyes go wide, and Servetseza nodded; after a moment, the queen turned to search for her husband, who stood talking with the sultan and his advisor, discussing what the Gods only knew. Servetseza watched as the young king barely turned his head, catching her eye across the grounds; an entire conversation appeared to pass between the couple, and after a moment, the king nodded gently towards them, before returning to the conversation. She knew how her husband felt about the fact that the sultan had a harem, but she also knew that his quiet acceptance of it was because it was the polite thing to do. After a moment, she turned back, to the woman she had become friends with over the course of a few years, and nodded.

The walk was not very long, and the room they soon stepped into grand and sprawling. As soon as they stepped within the Imperial Harem, a hush fell, and every head- concubine, wife, and servant alike- turned to survey the strange woman who had entered their private quarters on the arm of Servetseza Kadin. It was a flurry of exotic languages, and exquisite silks as the women soon realized who the other woman was, and rushed to stand to attention.

Elsa glanced at her companion, who merely lifted her head and led the queen down the steps into the spacious quarters. She heard nothing of Servetseza's words as she spoke to the others, for she was too entranced by the women who lived within these quarters. Many were young, of various descents, dressed in simple, beautiful silks of varying colors; despite the use of the quarters, they were spacious, with rays of light coming though the spacious windows above and casting warm sunlight into the room. "I'm sorry?"

Servetseza turned to her, not at all surprised that the queen had not been listening. She smiled softly. "The... other wives of... sultan... Al-jalaleh."

Elsa started. "Arabic?" The simple smile that met her told the queen all she needed to know. She was not the only woman of royal standing who needed to learn multiple languages- just because Servetseza was the chief consort of the sultan and his first wife, did not mean she was uneducated. Elsa herself knew ten languages, at least- as was required of her to be able to converse with diplomats from many foreign countries. "Sorry."

The other woman chuckled softly, leading her down the steps into the spacious quarters as each woman stepped forward and curtsied. "Sevkefza Kadin, fourth wife, Second Kadin." The girl quickly curtsied and fell back into line as the next stepped forward. "Verdicenan Kadin, seventh wife, Third Kadin." Once the girl was back in line, another stepped forward. "Perestu Kadin, eighth wife, Fourth Kadin."

"Kadin?" The queen's simple question stopped the girl from falling back into line; she glanced at Servetseza, who turned to Elsa. A moment passed as Servetseza worked to figure out the best explanation before,

"Kadin is... wife. Usually former slave women who have given Sultan a child."

Elsa nodded slowly in understanding, before turning to the rest of the women in the harem. She listened to each wife be introduced, becoming more and more confused over time; there were so many, some not much older than she herself, all of different ethnicities and backgrounds, all living within the same walls of the harem together. She knew that her very presence within this sacred space was frowned upon if not forbidden, but that didn't seem to matter to the women, as they all gathered around her once introductions were done, studying her hair and admiring her dress.

Her heart leapt into her throat as they reached to touch her hair, to run their fingers over her dress, and along her soft skin, admiring the blue of her eyes and the whiteness of her hair. After several minutes, Elsa relaxed, smiling at the women, speaking to them in the limited Arabic she knew and had picked up from her correspondence with Servetseza over the last few years- turning a confused glance to the other woman as one of the younger women spoke, gesturing towards her hands. A moment passed, before the consort spoke, having taken her time to gather the right words in English.

"Your... hands." Elsa furrowed a brow. "She... wishes to... why... they are... cold."

"Oh!" A blush danced across the Scandinavian queen's features, making her even lovelier if that were possible, and she pulled her hands to her chest. "I..." She bit her lip, turning to Servetseza, looking more like a worried handmaiden than a ruler. "I possess..." She stopped, before releasing a soft breath, and quickly rolled her hands, before revealing a glittering snowflake floating within her palm.

"سحر?"

Elsa stopped at Servetseza's voice, letting her brain work through the few Arabic words she knew to find the right one. سحر... al-sahar. "Yes. Magic." She swallowed thickly, glancing at the others. Though she didn't know much about the Ottoman's, she'd studied what she could on their religion and political views- religious texts are looked at with human assessment; they believe less in magic and more in faith and healing. So does that mean that I will be accused of witchcraft-

She jumped, as one of the younger women reached out to touch the snowflake, letting out an excited squeal at the coldness. The girl- for she was more a girl than a woman- said something in hurried Arabic that Elsa didn't understand, and Servetseza quickly translated. "It is... very beautiful. She... would know... can you... do more?"

Blue eyes widened in surprise; after a moment, the young queen smiled softly.