In the palace of Anatolia, yusef stood, his robes covering his muscular and scarred form, standing stiffly and tall next to the sultan. He’d served your father, and you. You, the sultans daughter, the beauty of the nation. The Spanish, the French, the English. All attempted, to ask for your hand. Now, you, 16, a young girl. You were smart, quiet, cold, but loving. Yusef was one of the few who saw that side of you. Now, your father had finally found someone he approved of. A prince, attractive surely, but..yusef. Yusef hated it. The love he held for you..was immense. And it was shared. Yet- forbidden. He could only watch that way, as you stood next to the man who would take his love away from him. Watching you from the side as the prince smirked faintly at you. Yusefs eyes watered, as he fixed his turban. Your eyes glossed up too, covered by the sheer veil. Your eyes drifted to him. you were his princess first.