Chapter forty-nine:

"𝐀𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞"

❝An heir is not simply the first in line, but the one who carries the blessing of the throne.. while those who follow are left to wonder if their blood runs any less noble❞

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|3rd Person POV|

Once again, as the news rippled through the crowds, astonishment seized every face, leaving a trace of disbelief in its wake "His Majesty was blessed with two şehzades, Şehzade Selim and Şehzade Osman" No one had expected such a turn of events.. two twin şehzades, a rare occurrence that did not happen every day.

"I would wager these two are being raised with one purpose only.. to overshadow Şehzade Ahmed"

"She rushed to have these two sons, didn't she? As if she feared the power of Şehzade Ahmed, as if she feared his place as the rightful heir.. Yet, no matter how many sons she brings forth, it is Şehzade Ahmed who will stand as the rightful ruler"

"Two sons, born at the same time.. indeed, this is a blessing from Allah.. Yes, Şehzade Ahmed is the destined Sultan, and there is no doubt about that.. Yet, these two.. Şehzade Selim and Şehzade Osman.. carry their own significance.. They are heirs in their own right, and their presence fortifies the strength and cohesion of the House of Osman.. The dynasty now stands more secure than ever before"

"Indeed, Haseki Ayleen Nura Sultan has graced the dynasty with two heirs.. mashallah, a true blessing"

"She's concealing herself behind that new name.. Last year it was Helena, and now it's Ayleen.. I can't help but wonder what name she'll choose for herself next year"

"Do not be swayed by all this chatter of new şehzades .. Şehzade Ahmed is the rightful heir.. His blood runs the purest, and the people have already declared him their choice"

"Why have you already buried Sultan Orhan in your minds?.. Our Sultan is still young, and he has many years left to rule.. Why speak as though his reign is at an end? These Şehzades, they are mere infants.. How can we claim to know their fates when they have yet to grow? We have seen şehzades rise and fall, but they deserve a chance to prove themselves, just as Şehzade Ahmed, the rightful heir, does"

"Exactly! People speak as though the Sultan's fate is already sealed.. Sultan Orhan has many years yet to rule, and these two şehzades are nothing more than infants.. mere babies!! Let us not forget that the Sultan is still in the prime of his life, firmly in control.. His reign is far from over, and these princes are not yet men.. We must exercise patience and refrain from hasty judgments"

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|Ayleen's POV|

-One month later-

"Hold on a moment" I said with a smile, gently pausing as Nuray stood between Ahmed and Aysel.. They had asked to take her for a short walk, so I showed them how to hold her tiny hands before they ventured out "This is perfect"

I stepped back slightly, watching them while Şerife, Marissa, and other servants trailed behind, their eyes never straying far from them.

"Anastasia and Buşra are with the children, aren't they?" I asked the familiar question again to Sibylle, who was standing beside me, smiling widely and playing with a few strands of her hair.. she simply nodded, which made me remember something else and ask her another question "Where is Isabel? I haven't seen her since this morning"

"Ah.." she glanced at me, lowering her fingers from her hair "She went for a walk outside because she was feeling bored.. She should return shortly"

Despite casting a puzzled glance at her, I refrained from asking further.. My attention was soon drawn to the distant balcony of Orhan's chambers, where, to my surprise, he stood with one hand resting against the marble wall, his gaze intently fixed on the spot where Ahmed, Aysel, and Nuray were standing.

Once again, he seemed distant.. a pattern I had noticed over the past few weeks.. Every time I found him sitting there in silence, it was as if he had drifted deep into thought.

Despite being accustomed to his quiet nature, this was different.. Even during family moments with the children, he would stare at one of them, as if time itself had come to a halt.. and although I had asked him about it repeatedly, he would always claim to be simply tired from work.

I pondered a few possible explanations.. perhaps it was the sweeping changes Orhan had begun to make within the divan, gradually pushing away the viziers he no longer trusted and replacing them with younger, more malleable ones.. Or maybe it had something to do with the long-anticipated campaign he had been meticulously preparing for years.

Yet none of these seemed to add up.. If it were something of that magnitude, he would have confided in me by now.

I gestured for Sibylle to tend to the children and bring them inside shortly, while I made my way indoors, Ebru, my new maid, following closely behind.

I could no longer ignore the unease that had settled within me.. Despite my efforts to stay hands-off these past few weeks, something about Orhan was amiss, and I could no longer let it go.. I needed answers, and I was determined to find them.

The moment I stepped into the room, my gaze immediately found him.. there he stood by the balcony, his back to me, his eyes locked on the distant horizon, lost in a world of his own.

Having spent countless days and months in his presence, I knew well how he effortlessly carried himself, always poised, always composed.. but this? something was undeniably different.. a quiet change I couldn't quite place, but that felt impossible to ignore.

"Orhan" his name slipped from my lips, as though it were the one thread capable of anchoring him back to reality, pulling him from the distant place where his thoughts had drifted.

He turned his head just enough to acknowledge me, but didn't speak.. I moved across the room and stood next to him at the balcony, where the sun was slipping below the edge of the sky.. Even as the light faded, a few last rays caught his face, highlighting the exhaustion that had settled there.

"Is everything okay?" I asked softly, my voice tender, feeling that I wouldn't leave his side until he opened up about whatever weighed on him.. If there was any way I could ease his burden, I would do it without hesitation.

"I'm just exhausted, Ayleen... My mind feels like it's about to shatter with all the pressure.. the upcoming campaign, everything piling up" he sighed heavily, his gaze still locked on the distant sky.

I studied him intently, noticing how the lines on his face appeared more etched than usual.. He didn't resemble the man who had been worn out countless times over the past two years.. No, this was something else.. a weariness that ran deeper, more consuming.

"You've always told me to open up, to share everything with you" I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, letting the silence stretch before gently adding "Is this about something to do with family matters... or perhaps state affairs?"

His eyes flickered briefly, as though weighing my words, before drifting away once again, distant and unreadable.. It was as if he couldn't find the right words.. or perhaps he wasn't ready to voice them.

I fell silent, waiting.

"I..." he began, but his voice faltered, swallowed by the storm of his thoughts "The palace... there's more than one şehzade now" he murmured, as if to no one in particular.

He looked down for a moment, his hand clenching against the marble railing, his knuckles turning white as his gaze grew more intense.

I stood quietly beside him, waiting, unsure of what he meant.. He had never spoken like this before.. cryptic, veiled.

Then, just as suddenly as the moment had come, it seemed to slip away, as though he had already forgotten the thread of his own words.

Before I could ask, before I could press him further, Orhan turned to look at me again.. but it was as if he hadn't truly seen me.. His eyes were clouded with something I didn't understand.

"It brings back memories from a distant time" he whispered, and for reasons I couldn't explain, those words sent a chill through me, a shiver that crept down my spine and lingered.

"What do you mean?" I asked softly, my voice barely a breath.. but as the words left my lips, he turned away once more, his gaze drifting back to that distant place where his thoughts had already retreated.

A long silence settled between us, and I knew it wasn't because there were no words left.. No, there was something he wasn't ready to reveal.

It was as if he were weighing how much of himself he was willing to uncover, how much he truly wanted to share.. In that moment, I realized this was far deeper than anything I had imagined, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer.. I had to do something.

"Is it about your childhood?" I asked softly, my hand resting lightly on his arm before letting my fingers trail gently down his sleeve, holding his gaze.

"I'm here if you want to talk, and even if not, I'll still be here" My other hand found its place at his back, my fingers tracing slow, soothing circles as I leaned my head against his, offering him the quiet comfort of my presence in the stillness he had chosen.

Finally, after a few moments, Orhan placed his other hand over mine, which was resting on his arm, then turned to me and took my hand, pulling me towards the sofa where he sat.. he was gathering his words while I waited, eager to hear anything from him.

"Yes" he murmured, nodding his head "it's about my childhood"

|Flashback: 3rd Person POV|

What does a child of four truly understand? What weight can be placed on such small shoulders? Nothing.

Yet by the time Şehzade Orhan had turned four, he had already learned truths far beyond his years... truths no child should ever carry.. He knew he was third in line for the throne, that his half-brother Cihangir, eight years older, was far more important in the eyes of their father, and that Sultan Ibrahim.. his own flesh and blood.. felt no warmth for him.

These were not things spoken directly to him, but they were truths he heard, saw, and felt with every passing day.

It was well-known that Şehzade Cihangir, the eldest son and first in line for succession, was the favorite of their father, Sultan Ibrahim, and his mother, Dilaşub Sultan, who held him in such esteem that even her three daughters seemed secondary in comparison.

His name was known throughout the palace and beyond, everyone anticipated his presence, for Sultan Ibrahim himself often spoke of his son with a kind of reverence and pride that left no room for doubt about his place as the future Sultan... among these admirers stood young Orhan.

As a child, Orhan looked up to his older brother with a quiet, profound admiration.. It wasn't because Cihangir was the eldest, the strongest, or destined to be a Sultan one day.. No, Orhan's admiration ran deeper, drawn from something far more intangible.. It was the way their father looked at Cihangir.. with a gaze filled with such pride and affection, as though the world itself revolved around him.. it was the way he kept him close, always at his side.

For Orhan, these were the things that seemed like an unreachable dream, so far away they might as well have been in another world.

Orhan loved all of his siblings, even though, at that time, he had no full-blooded brother or sister.. he appreciated every one of them.. Beyhan, Cihangir, Atike, Ahmed, Gevherhan, Fatma, and Mehmet.. If it were up to him, he would have spent every waking moment with them, but the barriers of different mothers kept them apart.

This separation, strangely, made him gravitate toward Muazzez Sultan, the mother of Ahmed, and Gevherhan.. He spent more time with them than any of the others.. Their chamber was always warm, comforting, and instead of the harsh words and scolding he often received from Dilaşub Sultan and Hümaşah Sultan, he found only gentle smiles and soft words from Muazzez Sultan, who treated all the children equally and always welcomed Orhan with open arms.

It was the summer of 1639, another dull day stretched on.. Orhan stood alone in a vast green space in the palace gardens and a few paces away, two maids chatted idly, paying him no mind.

The little boy grasped a wooden sword in his hands and began swinging it in various directions, as any child his age might, lost in a world of imagination.. he envisioned himself as a mighty ruler or the commander of an army, leading his forces to victory against imagined enemies.

In his mind, he was already a capable and powerful young man, able to defeat every foe he conjured up.. But the world around him was not as kind as the one in his hea.. his fantasy collapsed the moment he heard the approach of footsteps and laughter.

Turning, Orhan saw his thirteen-year-old sister, Beyhan Sultan, and twelve-year-old brother, Cihangir, walking toward him with measured steps, their eyes fixed on him as if they controlled the very passage of time.

"What are you doing, little boy?" Beyhan asked, lifting her dress slightly with her right hand to avoid tripping, a wide smile stretching across her face "What's going on in that little head of yours?"

"He's just wasting his time, like always" Cihangir said, laughing mockingly as he placed his hands behind his back, lazily chewing on something.

"Why, brother, am I doing something wrong?" Orhan asked innocently, his confusion clear as he looked at his sword.

He thought his older brother was saying he was wasting his time, playing with it the wrong way, as if he had made some mistake and was waiting for Cihangir to correct him.

"Wait a moment, Orhan.. Let me see" Beyhan said, stepping forward and reaching for his sword.

Orhan hesitated for a moment but then handed it over, smiling faintly.. Once she had the sword in her hands, she tossed it to Cihangir, who threw it back to her, laughing each time.

Orhan ran between them, trying to retrieve the sword, believing that the game would end as soon as he got it back.. But as time went on and he stumbled to the ground again and again, the tears began to well in his eyes..He only wanted it to stop.

"Let me teach you an important lesson, Orhan" Cihangir said, finally stopping.. he caught the sword in his hands and looked at Orhan with a gaze that was far colder and more terrifying than the teasing smile from before "You're wasting your time here.. You'll end up locked away in the kafes, or dead"

Little Orhan didn't fully understand the words, but hearing the word "death" and seeing the frightening look on his brother's face was enough to send a chill through his body.. He took a few steps back, wiping his tears away, only to collide with Beyhan, who had silently moved behind him.

"Oh Cihangir, that was harsh" Beyhan said, her face twisted in a mock sadness.. orhan still couldn't grasp the meaning of it all, and she laughed again, adding "Do it again"

By then, Orhan was no longer playing along.. He only wanted to get his sword back and escape, but they wouldn't let him.. They enjoyed this strange game, teasing him for their own amusement.

Mehmet was still too young, and Ahmed had recently started standing up for himself, so Orhan, became the perfect target lately.

Just as Orhan was on the verge of crying, his mother's voice called out to him, her hurried footsteps drawing near, her servants scrambling to follow.

"Mother" Orhan cried, ignoring the sword and everything else as he ran toward his mother.

Turhan Sultan rushed forward, her hand gently resting on Orhan's head as a cold fury blazed in her eyes.. she shot a deathly glare at Cihangir and Beyhan, who, without a hint of remorse, immediately dropped the sword and stepped back.. utterly indifferent to her presence.

"Let's go inside, and you can tell me what happened" she said calmly, taking Orhan's small hand and guiding him away from the scene.. but inside, her heart was burning with anger and concern, witnessing her child tormented so mercilessly by his older siblings as always.

"Cihangir said... I'll end up dead" Orhan whispered, settling beside his mother on a couch, her hand softly brushing his tears away.

"Orhan" she said, her voice soft yet firm "I've told you, don't listen to what they say.. It's nonsense.. I'm here with you, and I'll always be.. You are my son, and no one.. no matter their title.. can take away your worth" She pulled him into a warm embrace, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn't voice.

Life had never promised to be easy for them, but she hadn't anticipated it would be this painful... especially not with the Sultan's disdain burdening her, leaving her and her son to face the world entirely alone.

Though Orhan was deeply hurt by the relentless teasing of his siblings, he never showed it, never pulled away or turned his back on them.. he still looked up to them, viewing them as older, stronger, more significant.. they were the ones who drew attention, while he... he was simply Orhan.. always in the background.

As each week passed, the world began to look different to Orhan.. He'd hear, time and again, about his father having dinner with one of his siblings, making them laugh, giving them advice.. and every time his mother told him it was time for dinner, Orhan's heart would race a little, hoping, maybe this time, his father would join them.. He'd sit there, staring at the door, waiting... waiting... and waiting... But the Sultan.. his father.. never came.

Once again, Orhan found himself caught in the same painful loop.. The months dragged on, and the question gnawed at him relentlessly.. was something wrong with him? Was it his age? His name? Or was there something about him that made him invisible to his father? In his young heart, he was certain of one thing.. something, either inside or out, was never good enough, and that's why his father's gaze never lingered on him the way it did on the others.

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❝Blessed or Cursed?❞

At the age of six, Orhan became deeply fascinated with history, prompting his mother to read him countless books on the subject.. It allowed him to lose himself in other worlds, escaping the endless questions that bombarded his mind and the comparisons that never seemed to lead to any clear answers.

He tried.. he tried to do everything his older brother Cihangir did.. While Cihangir received praise and encouragement from their father, Orhan couldn't even earn a fleeting glance.

During this time, Orhan started to see something else.. his father's unpredictable fits of rage, his deep struggles with his mother, Valide Kösem Sultan, and the one person he trusted the most.. his twin sister, Atike Sultan.

It was a quiet day in 1641 when Orhan found himself standing in a room he had only recently discovered, a place his older brother Mehmed had told him about.. he knew that the younger boy would be captivated by the history the four walls held.

Orhan's eyes shone with awe as he gazed at the long sword before him, adorned with jewels whose value he could barely comprehend, but he certainly appreciated its beauty. But for him, it wasn't the jewels-it was the sword itself, who owned it, and the battles it had witnessed

"Admiring something that will never be yours?"

The voice was far too familiar.. It could only be Cihangir, whose favorite moments seemed to be those when Orhan finally found a moment of peace, only for it to be shattered by his older brother's words.

"Being a backup will never give you a chance to own something like this" Cihangir said, his gaze fixed on Orhan's changing expression and he took pleasure in how easily Orhan always fell into the trap of his taunting words.

Orhan's small hands balled into fists, but he remained silent.. a sharp pain pierced his chest, yet no words came.. no defense, no reply.. He had always understood his place beneath Cihangir, never once feeling jealousy.. Yet, he couldn't grasp why his brother took such pleasure in reminding him, time and time again, that he was worthless.

"I see you're hiding again, Cihangir... All you're good for is tormenting this little one" a voice called from behind.. Both boys turned to find their brother, Ahmed, standing there.

At thirteen, Ahmed, like Orhan, was often overlooked by their older brother, but he didn't care about being second in everything.. he didn't care for rules or titles.. If he had something to say, he would say it, and he would take whatever punishment came with it.

"Look who's here" Cihangir smirked, locking eyes with both Ahmed and Orhan, a smile of amusement on his lips "The two who will always be behind, never in front"

"How pathetic" Ahmed said coolly, stepping between Cihangir and Orhan "You act like you're above it all, yet you'd gladly crawl on your knees to our father just for a scrap of approval" Ahmed smiled, his hands casually behind his back, a smug expression settling on his face "I heard that when you missed your shot with an arrow yesterday, Father slapped you in front of everyone.. Seems even you have tears to shed.. I really missed a lot while I was asleep, didn't I?"

Though they were all just young children.. Ahmed and Cihangir barely teenagers.. what they said may have seemed trivial to some, but it was far from it.

Each of them, in their own way, was trapped in a different kind of hell, shaped by their positions.. The first was drowning in the torment of trying to please their father; the second was lost in the hell of pity for his siblings, turning himself into a rebellious figure who endured punishments week after week.. And the third? He was simply forgotten, left to question his worth, and that, in itself, was his own quiet torment.

And somehow It turned out that even Cihangir wasn't truly blessed.

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❝What Is Grief, If Not This?❞

At the beginning of 1642, things took a dark turn.. like a curse, like wrath, like cruelty itself, smallpox swept through the Topkapi Palace.. In just a few days, both Şehzade Cihangir and Şehzade Mehmed were struck down by it, while the others, for the most part, were lucky enough to remain safe in their rooms with their mothers.

The days passed slowly, each one a suffocating weight for Orhan, now seven years old, confined within those walls that had begun to feel like a prison.' His mother was always preoccupied, talking with those she trusted, while his father.. well, that man only entered the room when he needed to shout at Turhan, or sometimes, Orhan.

When Orhan received the news that his brothers had recovered from the deadly disease, he was grateful, relieved.. But more than that, he was eager.. eager to have the doors of his room open once more, eager to see his favorite brother Ahmed, who had recently begun teaching him all that he excelled in.

It was a random day that same week when Orhan wandered, confusion written across his face, and it seemed his maids were just as bewildered as he was.. They, too, drifted toward the scene.

There, before them, was a sight Orhan could not understand.. Everywhere he looked, people were in black, crying, screaming in that early morning.

But none of the screams pierced the air more painfully than one voice, a voice Orhan recognized immediately.. Dilaşub Sultan.. It was her voice that had screamed at him so many times before, and now, it was a wail of anguish.

Orhan's feet carried him toward the source of the sound, and when the scene before him became clearer, he stopped, frozen a few steps away, still trying to grasp what was unfolding.

"You're the reason, you killed my son!" she screamed, her sharp words aimed at Muazzez Sultan, who stood there, stunned, as if she herself couldn't comprehend what was happening.

Orhan's blood ran cold.. time seemed to freeze, his legs rooted to the spot, as the horrifying truth began to sink in.. Dilaşub Sultan's son.. his brother.. was dead..

Cihangir... was dead? How? When? Why?

The thought seemed too vast to comprehend.. His own death, yes, that would have made sense.. he had always been third in line, and death could come for him at any time.

But Cihangir? How could that be? He was supposed to be the one to rule.. the rules said he couldn't die now... This was what stormed through Orhan's mind as he tried to grasp the enormity of the loss.. a Şehzade, destined for the throne, now gone at the age of fifteen.

"Look..." Muazzez began softly, her voice strangely calm, almost detached "I understand you're in pain, but blaming me will not bring your son back" Her words were measured, as if speaking to someone who had lost their grip on reality.

"My son is gone... I know you did it" Dilaşub's voice was thick with venom "You will pay dearly for this, Muazzez.. I swear on my dear son who's gone that I will turn your life into hell" Had the maids not stepped in to pull her away, Dilaşub would have likely attacked Muazzez, consumed by her grief.

"I will not engage in this madness any longer.. You have lost your son, Dilaşub, and I am sorry for your pain, but do not try to make me your scapegoat" Muazzez stood there, silent and composed.. Her lips pressed tight, yet there was a sadness in her eyes that Orhan couldn't ignore.

While Dilaşub Sultan let everyone go and made her way back to her room, she appeared to be in a state Orhan had never seen her in before.. completely out of this world.

As he stood frozen in place, unable to understand anything, a hand reached out from behind, pulling him back.. when he turned, he saw it was his mother, who, without a word, hurried him back to their room.

"Valide... what's happening? What happened to my brother?" Orhan finally asked, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes searching his mother's face, which was filled with tension and fear.

Turhan Sultan knelt down, gently brushing a strand of hair from Orhan's forehead.. her expression was soft, but the sorrow in her eyes was obvious.

"Cihangir has passed away" she said gently "He was taken by smallpox"

"But why are they blaming Muazzez Sultan? What did she do?" Orhan's voice trembled as he was still trying to understand what was happening.

"When people are in pain, Orhan, sometimes they search for someone to blame.. It helps them cope with their grief, even if it's not fair.. Dilaşub Sultan is grieving, and in her grief, she has lost sight of reason" Turhan sighed deeply, resting her hand on Orhan's shoulder, offering him the only comfort she could.

Orhan didn't cry that day, nor that night, or even the following day.. He needed time, several days, to truly absorb it all.

He understood when he no longer saw Cihangir around, when there was no one to block his way and remind him that he was just third in line.. And for the first time, one day, he heard his mother tell an Agha that Orhan was now second in line.

That night, Orhan cried.. he wept through the night as the reality settled into his bones.. for the first time, he understood what it meant to lose someone.. someone close, even if their bond had never given him true comfort or brotherly connection.

Orhan thought, and thought... Was this what Cihangir had meant? He'd ended up dead... Maybe being first in line meant you were first in everything.. even death.. That's why Cihangir was gone now.

And now?

Ahmed was first in line.

This thought pressed down on him, suffocating, before he buried his face in the pillow, his body trembling with harder sobs.. He didn't want anyone to hear him, but the thought of Ahmed being next only deepened the pain, twisting his grief into something darker, heavier.. something he could barely bear.

That was his first grief.

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❝Too Perfect to Be Real❞

The days in the Topkapi Palace dragged on painfully, as if time itself was giving Orhan all the space he needed to feel every ounce of his sorrow, every shred of his hellish thoughts, and every reminder that he was still waiting for something worse... much worse.

A full year had passed since that day, but it could hardly be called the worst day ever.. It turned out to be just the beginning of a chain of strange events in Orhan's life, one that had slowly started to reveal the harshness of his existence.

The more he understood it, the less it brought him comfort.. He was still forgotten by his father, as always, but now his father's cruelty weighed heavily on Ahmed's shoulders, who found himself in a position he despised.

Everyone pushed him to try harder to please their father, but Ahmed hated every second of it.. As always, he rebelled against it, which quickly led their father to openly express his desire for Ahmed not to be his heir.

It was the middle of 1643, the air had begun to grow warm, but it was never truly comforting... Ahmed and Orhan found a rare moment of peace, sneaking away to sit beneath the great tree in the palace garden, far from everyone.. The two of them loved to sit there, sharing their worries, plans, and dreams.. Yes, only Orhan's thoughts were consumed by worry, while Ahmed was the one who held the dreams and plans.

"There's not much time left, Orhan.. I can feel it" Ahmed broke the silence, tearing at the green herbs in his hands, his green eyes intense, filled with thoughts that ran deep "Once I become a governor, I'll improve myself easily, I'll have many allies.. there... he won't be there to control me"

Orhan watched his brother's face quietly, listening to his words.. Even though he felt uneasy about what Ahmed was hinting at, something inside him stirred.

His brother would soon escape this hellish cage and do all the things he had always dreamed of, the things he had spoken of in detail... He would be free, to an extent.

But what about him? He was here.. He would always be here, stuck between these walls.

"But don't worry, Orhan.. Just trust me" Ahmed shifted his gaze toward him with a gentle smile "When I become Sultan... I want you to know something.. We're not just brothers by blood.. We're partners in this"

Orhan looked up at his brother, his face filled with trust, already knowing Ahmed would always be there for him.. He never questioned his brother's words.. he never would.

"Partners?"

"Yes.. The world may try to tear us apart, Orhan.. There will be those who want to see us divided, to turn us against each other.. But we will never let that happen" Ahmed placed his hand gently on the back of Orhan's neck, pulling him in close, gazing into his eyes with a brotherly love that Orhan had only ever felt from his older brother "No matter how high I rise or how far apart our paths might seem to stretch, you will always have a choice, brother.. You will be by my side every step of the way, and everyone will know how much you mean to me"

Orhan, with all his youthful innocence, believed him completely.. Ahmed had told him all these future plans beneath this very tree, and the way they sounded so perfect, Orhan never let a shred of doubt creep in.. He had nothing else to hold onto.. he needed something to believe in.

"Come on, let's head back inside.. It's dinner time" Ahmed said, standing up after exchanging a brotherly hug with Orhan.

The two of them dusted themselves off, adjusted their clothes, and made their way back inside, each heading toward the chambers of their own mothers.

"Ahmed, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you" Muazzez Sultan's voice rang with concern as she approached them in one of the corridors while she looked pale and frightened.

"What happened?" Ahmed asked quickly, alarm creeping into his voice as he noticed the fear in his mother's eyes.

"It's nothing.. I was just worried.. Come on, the dinner table is ready" With that final statement, her expression shifted, the concern melting into a smile.. but before Orhan could continue his way, she stopped him with her voice, adding "Şehzade, will you join us for dinner? Your mother is giving birth"

Orhan's heart sank.. he had heard his mother mention the approaching birth just days ago, but he hadn't paid much attention to it.. he'd been too absorbed in his own world.. Now, though, he couldn't help but feel a gnawing unease.

He didn't understand why... didn't know how his mother had become pregnant, and he certainly didn't realize that his father had done this with force, just to make his other haseki jealous.. Turhan had been forced, unable to refuse the man she loathed.. the man who had made her life a nightmare.. The same man who could take her son from her at any moment... or worse, erase him from existence.

"Is Orhan joining us for dinner?" Gevherhan, just ten years old, asked curiously as she emerged from the spare room, where it seemed she had been fixing her hair.

"Yes, he will" Muazzez Sultan replied, settling into her place and waiting for everyone to gather around the table.. When her eyes fell on Orhan, who was sitting beside her, watching quietly, she gave him a warm smile, trying to make him feel at ease.

Orhan loved her dearly.. he had always felt safe here, in her presence.. she created a space for all of them to relax, where they could talk freely, play noisily, and ask questions that might be considered foolish by others.. but she always answered them, disregarding their titles and treating them as curious children who deserved to know whatever they wished.

"Destur, Sultan Ibrahim Khan Hazretleri"

Everyone's features turned pale the moment they heard that sound that made their insides tremble.

Even before the door opened, everyone had dropped what they were holding and stood up quickly.. Even Ahmed, whose face had been hardened with irritation, softened at the sight of his mother's pleading gaze.. It was enough to make him lower his head and relax his posture, just like everyone else.

Ibrahim's entrance was like a storm.. Always angry, his eyes constantly sparking with fire, always finding a reason to attack someone... one of his family members.. And so, his gaze immediately fixed on Ahmed, a look that was enough to make everyone understand.. it would happen again.

"What is happening?" Muazzez Sultan quickly said, her voice laced with worry as she stepped in front of Ahmed, trying to shield him when she saw Ibrahim approaching him with swift steps.

"Don't interfere" Ibrahim snapped angrily, grabbing her arm and shoving her aside with such force that her cheek crashed into the table lying on the ground.

Ahmed immediately bent down beside her, while Gevherhan ran to hide in the spare room, her face flooded with tears.

And Orhan... He stood frozen, his eyes wide, just as they always were when something like this occurred.

"You!" Ibrahim yanked Ahmed hard, his gaze locking with his "You skip your training to waste your time with that useless, stupid thing!" he screamed in his face, tightening his grip on his jaw, aiming his words at Orhan, who was now lost.

What should he do? Should he defend his brother? Or should he help Muazzez Sultan, whose cheek was covered in blood as she desperately pleaded for Ibrahim to stop harming her son?

"Get your filthy hands off me" Ahmed shouted, shoving his father with all his strength, his eyes bloodshot with tears of anger.. not for himself, but for his mother.

"You're just like him" Ibrahim hissed, his voice dripping with venom "I knew you'd never fill Cihangir's place... You can never be my heir" He raised his hand high and slapped Ahmed hard, oblivious to one of his rings slicing Ahmed's lip, causing it to bleed profusely.

For everyone in that room, it wasn't the physical or verbal violence that hurt them most; it was the terror that grew inside them each day.. Every day, they waited for the Sultan.. the man who could never truly be their father.. to disappear.. But every day, all that happened was that he grew angrier, more violent.

"And you!" Finally, Ibrahim's murderous gaze fell on Orhan, who felt his blood freeze in his veins while he was dragged violently down the hallway "As if one disappointment wasn't enough, your useless mother gave me another useless thing" Ibrahim barked, pulling him quickly along before throwing him to the ground.. Orhan, unable to keep his balance, crashed face-first into the floor.

Despite the pain throbbing in his face, especially his nose, Orhan gathered himself and stood up quickly at the mention of his mother.. his mind raced with terrible possibilities, his feet moving instinctively.

But as soon as he opened the door to the room, he collapsed to his knees.. Among all the chaos around him, he was grateful to see his mother, still trying to get up from her bed, with a baby by her side.

"Orhan, what happened?" she asked quickly, ignoring the pain coursing through her body as she rushed toward him, her face filled with worry.. If Orhan had seen his own reflection at that moment, he would have been terrified by the horror staring back at him.

In the following days, everyone had learned of the events that transpired, and since the marks of violence were evident on the faces of all those who had been in that room, the news spread even further than it had before.

Valide Kösem Sultan was neither pleased nor satisfied with the behavior of her son, who hid behind his title, using it as a shield and excuse to unleash his madness upon his harem and sons, with the exception of Hümaşah Sultan and her children... For a brief moment, Kösem wondered if this woman was practicing dark magic, something that might explain why the man was so calm and tender with her and her children, yet a devil to everyone else, even his own mother.

Kösem Sultan wished to lift the spirits of her grandchildren, to make them forget the torment they had endured for years.. After all, she didn't want them to be driven to madness.

So, after a few weeks, she summoned only her grandchildren to her chambers, intending to give them gifts.. Orhan was the first to arrive, accompanied by his personal maid while is sister Zeynep, still a tiny infant, remained with her mother.

Moments later, five-year-old Mehmed arrived with his one-year-old brother Süleyman and three-year-old sister Ümmügülsüm Sultan, along with their servants.

As they waited for Ahmed and Gevherhan to arrive, news reached Kösem Sultan that a major quarrel had erupted between two of the concubines and they had been found in an alarming situation.. the matter had escalated so much that Kösem hastily rushed outside, while the children's maids, too, rushed towards the corridors, their curiosity far outweighing their sense of duty.

Orhan stood alone in a corner of the room, his eyes scanning the space quietly.. On one side, his sister Ümmügülsüm Sultan was playing, while little Süleyman crawled around on his hands and knees.

But what truly caught Orhan's attention, causing him to stand upright in sudden alarm, was the baby's approach towards the blazing fireplace.. It seemed as though the flames had mesmerized the child.

"Süleyman, no, it's dangerous!" Without a second thought, Orhan rushed forward, his hands outstretched, intending to gently pull Süleyman away from the peril.

However, just as he touched the baby, a sharp, furious voice rang out from the doorway.

"What are you doing?! Get away from him!" Hümaşah Sultan screamed as she approached, forcefully pushing Orhan's hand away and snatching her child into her arms.

"Süleyman was getting too close to the fire.. I was only stopping him" Orhan explained, bewildered by her furious outburst, as all he had tried to do was help the little one, who was on the verge of hurting himself.

"How dare you! You're a devil just like your mother... You wanted to burn my son, to get rid of him" She screamed, passing the baby to a maid who took him away in terror.

Hümaşah Sultan then advanced toward Orhan, her eyes filled with rage, causing him to recall the terrifying, identical gaze of his own father.. For a brief moment, he believed that the closeness between his father and Hümaşah Sultan was due to their shared fury, their eyes reflecting a terrifying resemblance.

"Why would I ever do something like that?" Orhan stood tall, his face hardening as he refused to let her cross the line.. He had been wronged so many times before and could no longer tolerate it "Know your limits"

»»-----　♔　-----««

❝The Brother Who's Gone Forever❞

Orhan, at the tender age of nine, had come to understand and accept the harsh truth.. nothing could change his father.. He would never stand by him and Ahmed.. He would never make amends for the pain he had caused them, nor would he regret the agony he had brought upon their lives.

Now, Orhan's greatest concern was his brother Ahmed's safety.. after demanding his right to be sent to one of the provinces, their father had once again lost his mind.. In a fit of rage, he had ordered a decree, calling for the execution of Şehzade Ahmed, accusing him of plotting against the throne, his ambition for power growing day by day.

But Ahmed wanted only his right.. He had never asked for the impossible, never planned to overthrow his father.

Yes, both he and Orhan prayed daily for this nightmare to end as soon as possible.. even if it meant the death of their father.. Little did they know, the nightmare would end, but not in the way they had ever imagined.

Orhan stood in the silence of the night, his head bowed, whispering his prayers for his brother.. who hadrun away with their mother and sister days earlier.. hoping they were safe, praying they had found a place where they could live in peace.

His heart raced as he heard footsteps approaching outside his room... He tried to focus on his prayer, tried to make peace with whatever was to come.. But when he heard the sobs of his mother watching him from the doorway, his hands lowered slowly in surrender.

He knew.

He knew it would happen.. he had only prayed for a miracle.

But miracles... miracles aren't real.

After hearing the news, Orhan couldn't stop himself from imagining the lifeless bodies of his brother and Muazzez Sultan.. His dreamer of a brother... the one who had grand plans... They were supposed to rule the world side by side... How foolish they were to ever think their dreams would come true.

"In Allah's safety, brother... if this is our last meeting, know that you are the one piece of this life I can never bring myself to say goodbye to"

His brother's words from that last night before his escape echoed in his ears.. Ahmed had known he wouldn't survive; he had known their father could do this.. But Orhan... Orhan was just beginning to understand that, indeed, a father can order the execution of his own son.

This time, it was a different kind of grief.. Orhan's pain shifted from an internal ache to a physical one within just hours of losing his grip on the reality around him.

The pain in his chest was unlike anything he had ever known, radiating outward from the very core of him, as if his body itself was mourning the loss.. His bones, his eyes, his fingers.. they all felt as though they had surrendered to an immense agony.. It was as if the very act of living had become a punishment.

It wasn't until days later that people began to whisper about the curse now passing to him... the curse of being the first in line.

He hated the very air that surrounded him.. He didn't know what kind of pain this was, but he knew it was the kind that happens once in a lifetime.. and it had struck a nine-year-old boy who felt as though he were already fifty.

As the palace grew darker and more oppressive, Sultan Ibrahim too tasted the bitterness of grief... Şehzade Süleyman, only two years old, contracted tuberculosis, and just weeks later, after weeks of suffering, he passed away.

»»-----　♔　-----««

❝Fated to be Forgotten❞

Two years of unjust imprisonment in his room had turned Orhan into a quieter person than before.. But the difference was, this version of him had had enough.. He didn't care anymore, didn't question his worth, and had nothing left to lose.

After becoming the first in line for succession, even though he had little interest in it, his father hastily made the decision, influenced by Hümaşah Sultan, who, after losing her son Süleyman and knowing that Mehmet was now second in line, demanded that Orhan be locked away and separated from his mother, who would stop at nothing to overthrow Ibrahim and place her own son on the throne.. And because Ibrahim loved Hümaşah and Mehmet more than anything, he saw this as a terrifying idea.. Orhan, who had long been forgotten, was now the rightful heir and this wasn't something he expected.

Orhan buried himself in various tasks within that room.. He knew what had happened to the şehzades before him, and he didn't want to end up like them.. so sometimes he exercised to keep his body active, other times he learned multiple languages from books and with the help of his mother, whom he was allowed to meet once a week, bringing little Zeynep along for him to see.

Orhan tried reading numerous books, even the poetry of some of his ancestors, but he soon realized it wasn't one of his interests.. It felt boring to him.. However, what he discovered in that room was something his brother had been searching for for years... What was Orhan truly passionate about?

Amidst all the monotony, he seized the chance to look into the strategies his ancestors used to conquer many regions and great cities, especially those who were brilliant in the art of warfare because not every ruler was gifted in planning.

At first, Orhan did it merely to pass time, but over time, he found himself lying back, sometimes taking a pen and paper to sketch out plans using all the knowledge and maps he had.. And for a moment, he thought of his brother... This was what was meant to happen.. Ahmed was supposed to become a great political ruler, while Orhan would handle the battles and conquests.

Despite the sorrow that consumed him, life seemed quieter in that room than ever before.. He knew he would only leave it as a lifeless corpse, but oddly, he didn't care much.. what he didn't expect was the fury that would awaken one morning when his mother came, as usual, to visit him, bearing shocking news.

"Your father wishes to change the laws" she said "he no longer wants the oldest to be the heir, but the most deserving.. And it's been declared that Mehmet is his only heir.. Even more than that, he will have his coronation at this young age, and the Janissaries will pledge their loyalty to the young şehzade"

Once again, Orhan was stunned by this... Why was this happening to him, of all people? What was his sin? He hadn't expected something like this from his father, yet at the same time, he couldn't fathom Mehmet receiving all this... everything that was rightfully his.

Did people even know about him? Did they know that there was a şehzade named Orhan, locked away between these walls, memorizing every intricate design etched into them?

"Mother, no wrongdoer escapes fate's grasp, every tyrant will answer for their deeds when the time arrives"

Orhan replied, before she left him again, returning to his solitude.. Sitting on one of the sofas, he ran his hand through his golden hair, trying to control his nerves... Why should he worry? What was there to fear? The executors? Well, he had already surpassed that fear during his first year in this room, where he would spend entire nights, terror eating at him.. Every step near his door would freeze him in place, every breath made him wonder if it might be his last.

Another year passed, and Orhan remained forgotten, aware that soon enough, a coffin would depart this palace.. his own, inevitably.

But fate had a way of surprising him, as if whispering, Why the haste? Yes, those days would come, but not for you... not yet, not your turn.

When the news of Şehzade Mehmet's death reached Orhan, he had to hear it several times to believe it.. He felt as if he were losing his sanity... How could this happen? He couldn't believe it, not at first.

Mehmet had been his father's favorite and the şehzade who got everything he wanted in recent years.. But now they were telling him he had fallen from the stairs, rushing to meet his father, which caused a fatal head injury.

It didn't make sense at first.. Mehmet had been surrounded by at least five people whose sole task was to protect him.. How could he die in such a foolish way? But what finally convinced Orhan was what his mother told him later.

A few days before Mehmet's death, Valide Kösem Sultan had gotten into a huge argument with Hümaşah Sultan, because she told Ibrahim that she wanted the Valide Sultan chambers.. Ibrahim, of course, complied, going to his mother to inform her to pack her things and vacate the chambers immediately, so Hümaşah could move in.. that's exactly what happened and Kösem Sultan was exiled to the old palace.

Knowing that Kösem Sultan always sent her regards in one way or another, Orhan and his mother suspected that she was behind it all.. They saw how much Hümaşah had grown in power because her son was now the heir, and how Ibrahim had gone mad... So, Kösem Sultan wanted to eliminate Süleyman first.. the nine-year-old who already strutted around the palace, giving orders to everyone, as if he had inherited the madness of both his father and mother.

But none of that prevented Orhan from feeling sorrow for his brother.. He knew they were all victims.. It was just that each one of them reacted in their own way, according to their personalities.

And while death claimed everyone around him, it seemed to have forgotten about Orhan's existence.

»»-----　♔　-----««

❝Has the nightmare ended?❞

Just weeks after Mehmet's death, Sultan Ibrahim allowed Orhan to leave that room after three years of confinement.. It wasn't because he had finally decided to show some mercy to his son, but simply because Atike Sultan had pushed him into it.. Orhan was now the only şehzade, and Ibrahim had no choice but to accept that.

Nothing comes without a price.. The moment Orhan left his cage, his mother, Turhan Sultan, and his sister, Zeynep, were exiled to the old palace.. Ibrahim's greatest fear was a conspiracy from Turhan.

In fact, he anxiously awaited the news of one of his concubines becoming pregnant and bearing another şehzade.. He would gladly passes on his throne to anyone but Turhan's son.. whom he scorned, calling him his "worst enemy".. He really despised Turhan and her intelligence above all else that's why he hated her son.

"Orhan, you don't even know where your interests lie" Atike Sultan said, trying to advise her nephew who stood before her, indifferent, as if he couldn't even be bothered to speak.

"Can't you see, I simply don't care?" Orhan replied, standing before his aunt, who, on this random evening, had decided to discuss his relationship with his father.. she urged him to seek his father's favor, to follow every order if he wanted the honor of standing by him one day.

Before Atike could respond, the door burst open, and Ibrahim stormed in, fury evident in his eyes so both Orhan and Atike realized that Ibrahim had already overheard their conversation.

"So this is who you defended? This is the one you said deserved freedom?" Ibrahim's voice shook with rage as he pointed at Orhan "How could you possibly think he's fit to rule after me?"

Orhan only sighed, his indifference cutting through Ibrahim's fury "Well, actually, I don't even know how you managed to sit on the throne, let alone keep it for all these years.. If you, with your madness, managed to do it, don't worry.. I'll handle myself when the time comes"

With those words, Orhan sealed his fate.. Ibrahim, without listening to anyone, immediately ordered his son be locked away again in his room, awaiting only one thing, the birth of his concubine's child, so he could order Orhan's execution.

Four months passed before that fateful night.. Orhan felt it in his bones, an unsettling cold.. not from the snow outside the window, but a peculiar kind of chill.

He prayed quietly, as he had every night, then donned his grey silk nightshirt and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting.. He had known this moment was coming.. and what confirmed his feeling was the fact that they didn't send his dinner, as if telling him he would not need a final meal.

His instincts proved right.. As soon as Ibrahim received word that his concubine had started labor, he ordered the executioners to Orhan's room, even before the child had been born or its gender revealed.

The sound he had been anticipating echoed in his ears.. They were coming for him... the nightmare would finally end.. He would join his brothers, perhaps finally meeting Ahmed in death.

When the door opened, a look of surprise crossed the face of one of the executioners as he saw Orhan sitting there calmly, waiting.. He didn't resist as they pulled him to the ground and forced him to kneel, then bound his hands behind him.. One guard stood behind him, tightening a black cord like a snake around his neck, constricting his breath.

As he closed his eyes, surrendering to death, at the moment he least expected it, the door slammed open.. The sound of guards flooding in filled the room.. He was yanked to his feet, pulled out of the room, three guards flanking him.

"Don't worry, Your Highness, Valide Kösem Sultan and Turhan Sultan are here" one of them murmured as they guided him to wherever they were taking him.

They arrived at Ibrahim's chamberq, where Orhan's mother was already waiting in the corridor.. the moment her eyes met his, she rushed to him, clutching him tightly in disbelief that he was still alive, still breathing.

Moments later, Kösem Sultan emerged from her son's chambers, and then all that could be heard was the sound of Ibrahim's screams for help, followed by a silence that would last forever.

He was silenced... forever.

Soon, Orhan realized the nightmare was far from over.. After being crowned the new sultan of the Ottoman Empire at just thirteen, he had become nothing more than a puppet controlled by Kösem Sultan, who, to save his life, had made Turhan Sultan accept certain conditions.

For the first year of his reign, Orhan was little more than a figurehead, as Kösem reveled in the power of her control.. while Turhan Sultan knew Kösem had no other heir to replace Orhan with, especially after the concubine had given birth to a girl.

Orhan named his sister Ayşe before Kösem sent her, along with her mother, to the old palace, where all the daughters of Sultan Ibrahim had been sent.

By the middle of his second year, Orhan had devised a plan with his mother.. One day, he casually mentioned to his grandmother that he wanted to lead the divan alone.. The next morning, before he could even eat breakfast, his room was invaded, and Kösem stopped him with a smile, telling him that the food was poisoned.

She did it.

In this way, she made sure he understood.. she held his life in her hands and could end it whenever she wished.

Orhan didn't play much of a role in there new plan.. His only task was to announce that Kösem Sultan would no longer serve as his regent.

Turhan Sultan, allied with Fatma Sultan.. who was angry with her mother for the suffering she had caused her siblings.. would take care of the rest.. Kösem had become too great a threat to their empire, and if they didn't act, the future of the Ottoman Empire itself could be at risk.

"Orhan" Kösem Sultan shouted, approaching him while he was with two viziers, deep in discussion about some matter.

"Is this the manner in which you repay my aid and mercy?" She raised an eyebrow in anger, her voice a mix of fury and disbelief "Who do you think you are?"

"I am the one who owns the land you walk upon, after God"

Orhan replied coolly, motioning to his guards as he returned to his conversation, leaving Kösem Sultan standing in stunned silence, wondering where this young man had found such strength.. Just a few years ago, he had barely dared to lift his eyes from the ground he now claimed as his own.

Kösem realized then that this was no simple tool she could manipulate.. he had played a long game, and this was the end for her.

|End of Flashback|

»»-----　♔　-----««

Ahh finally guys!

I know this chapter has been a real grind and probably not the most exciting to read maybe even boring at times but I really had to get through it.. a while back I mentioned in an earlier chapter to my beautiful girl Aysun aysunsultana that Orhan has a traumatic past with his father and I really needed to include that as a flashback.. I tried to keep it as short as possible though!!

and yesss I changed the actresses for Atike and Kösem for a reason 🦋

Anyway I promise we're about to enter a much more fun and exciting new era.. much love to all of u <33