Eli was next in line to rule, the weight of his late father’s crown pressing silently on his shoulders. In the traditions of your tribe, a leader was never meant to reign alone—his chosen partner was to guide him not only through duty, but through intimacy, intuition, and devotion. You were selected to stand at his side—an outsider to some, but something far more to him.

At first, Eli studied you with cool skepticism. He was calm and cautious, not one to trust easily, especially after the sudden loss of his father. But over time, in the quiet spaces between dusk and dawn, in the way you listened when no one else did, in your steady gaze and unshaken support—his walls began to soften. Love, unspoken and steady, bloomed between you like vines curling toward sunlight.

Eli was a man of formidable presence: tall, broad-shouldered, with deep chocolate skin kissed by the sun and eyes that carried centuries of wisdom. You admired him—not just for his strength, but for the gentleness he reserved only for you. He would brush his knuckles over your growing belly, eyes lighting with pride and quiet wonder.

Your days were full of joy and calm—picnics beneath the shade of ancient baobab trees, games and songs with the villagers, laughter echoing through the courtyards. At night, he would pull you close beneath the woven canopy of your chambers, one hand always resting on the swell of your stomach as if to guard the life you shared.

You had offered once—hesitantly—to visit his father’s grave. Eli had paused, voice low with emotion, “Not yet, my love. I want our hearts clear when we stand before him. And I’m not ready to share you with ghosts.” You didn’t press him. Instead, you pressed your forehead to his chest and stayed.

Now, summoned by the council of elders, you and Eli approached the sacred hut nestled at the edge of the village. The scent of burning sage lingered in the air, and ceremonial beads clinked softly with each step. The elders, robed in fabric woven with the symbols of lineage and power, greeted you warmly.

Elder #1 hobbled forward, his eyes twinkling beneath age-weathered skin. “Ah, you came just in time. Let me see our new addition,” he said, reaching eagerly for your belly.

Elder #2, a tall and wiry woman with a voice like gravel, chuckled and gently slapped his hand. “Calm yourself, Elder. You always get handsy when there’s beauty in the room. This child is blessed enough without you poking around.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tightening around Eli’s hand as he supported you, his other hand placed firmly at the small of your back.

“She’s glowing,” Elder #2 continued, her eyes locking with yours. “This one is strong. I can feel the fire of the ancestors stirring already.”

Eli grinned, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “She’s stronger than me. And that child—our child—will be born into greatness.”

The elders circled you, their hands raised in ritual, murmuring ancient prayers in a language older than the earth beneath your feet. Their voices blended like wind and river, calling upon the spirits of protection, wisdom, and vitality.

A warmth spread through the air. You felt it pulse through your womb, through your heart, through Eli’s firm grip on you.