A-Game ✔

sultan's thoughts / episode eight / orhan

The Ottoman coast loomed in the distance, its rugged cliffs and bustling harbors becoming clearer as the ship drew nearer to port. Sultan Orhan stood at the prow of the ship, his hands resting on the wooden rail, the wind tugging at his cloak. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, but his mind was elsewhere.

It had been days since he had seen her—Sophia. The girl they had captured in the Hungarian forest, the one who had stumbled into his path by sheer chance. Orhan had been too busy with matters of the kingdom, handling the Hungarian king's defeat, and the organization of his forces. He'd been separated from the main deck, deep in planning and strategy meetings with his commanders, but no matter how he tried to focus, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

She wasn't exceptionally beautiful—at least not in the way the women of his court were, with their perfect features and regal presence. Sophia had a quieter beauty. Her brown hair, slightly tousled from the wind, and her gentle, expressive eyes held a natural charm. She didn't stand out in the crowd of captives by her looks alone, but there was something more about her—something that lingered in his mind.

It wasn't just her appearance. It was the way she carried herself, even with her limp. Despite her injury, there was a kind of inner strength in her, a resilience that made her different from the other captives. Orhan found himself wondering what had brought her to the forest that night and why, in her panic, she had moved with such grace.

He hadn't forgotten the moment their eyes met in the moonlit clearing. Even now, as the Ottoman Empire's vast cityscape came into view, the memory remained vivid. There had been no fear in her eyes, not like the other prisoners. She had looked at him not as a sultan or a captor but as something else—perhaps an equal, or at the very least, someone she could understand.

Orhan's brow furrowed as he shook his head. He was Sultan now, and his priorities were supposed to lie elsewhere. His mother, Ayşe Neslişah, was ill, her health worsening by the day. The responsibility of continuing the Ottoman dynasty weighed heavily on him, as did her last wish to see him find a woman to love and bear him heirs. Yet here he was, thinking of a Hungarian girl who wasn't even of noble blood.

➣ Why does she occupy my thoughts? Orhan wondered, frustrated with himself. She is just one of many captives.

And yet... she wasn't. He had seen many women, both in the palace and in the world beyond, but Sophia was different. There was something about her presence that unsettled him, something about her spirit that kept pulling his thoughts back to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his duties.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ Later that day ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The ship finally docked at the Ottoman port, the bustling city of Istanbul sprawling before them. Soldiers barked orders as the captives were led off the ship in small groups. Orhan remained on the deck, overseeing the disembarkation. His men were swift and efficient, each prisoner cataloged and prepared for their new lives.

As the last few groups were led off, Orhan's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for her without even realizing it. He had not seen her since that night in the forest, but he knew she was here, somewhere among the captives.

➣ "Sultan, the prisoners are ready to be processed," one of his commanders said, breaking his thoughts.

Orhan nodded absently, still scanning the sea of faces. Then, just as he was about to turn away, he saw her—Sophia. She stood at the far end of the group, her limp more pronounced after the long journey, her face pale but calm. There was no panic in her eyes, no sign of the fear that many of the other girls wore on their faces.

Instead, she held her head high, her gaze steady as she looked toward the palace looming in the distance.

➣ What is she thinking? Orhan wondered, watching her closely.

Before he could call for her, one of the guards roughly pushed her forward, causing her to stumble. For a brief moment, anger flared in Orhan's chest, but he quickly composed himself. He couldn't reveal his interest in her, not now, not with his men watching.

He turned to his commander, his voice calm but firm.

➣ "Take the prisoners to the harem. Make sure they are treated well."

The commander nodded and hurried off to relay the orders. Orhan's gaze returned to Sophia as she was led away with the other girls, disappearing into the crowd.

The feeling that had been stirring inside him ever since he first saw her grew stronger. He didn't understand it, didn't know why this girl—this Hungarian girl—was different. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't the last time he would see her.

And when he did, he would find out exactly who Sophia Fazekas was—and why she haunted his thoughts so deeply.