The sun hung low over the kingdom of Benin, casting the palace grounds in a golden hue that seemed almost as regal as the Oba himself. The streets below were alive with the melodies of women grinding millet, children's laughter, and the rhythmic beating of drums signaling the end of the day.
In the palace, every detail reflected opulence and authority: walls adorned with bronze plaques recounting centuries of victory, and polished floors gleaming under the light of ornate oil lamps. It was a place befitting royalty, a home that echoed with stories of triumph and wisdom.
And at the heart of this splendor was Princess Adesuwa.
She was a vision, the kind of beauty that poets and storytellers would immortalize. Her skin held the soft glow of sun-kissed gold, her eyes large and piercing, as though she could see into the very soul of anyone who dared look at her. Her long, thick hair, often styled in intricate braids, fell like a crown over her delicate shoulders. At just fifteen, she carried herself with a maturity and grace that belied her age, earning her the whispered admiration of the kingdom.
This evening, however, Adesuwa's grace was tinged with curiosity as she made her way to the grand hall. Her father, Oba Esigie, had summoned her, and while she had always been obedient to his call, the tone of his message had hinted at something significant.
The grand hall was abuzz with quiet murmurs. Chiefs in flowing embroidered wrappers sat in rows, their expressions serious. At the far end of the hall, the Oba sat tall on his throne, adorned in coral beads that reflected the fading sunlight streaming through the high windows. Beside him, Queen Aigbovbiosa, Adesuwa's mother, exuded a quiet elegance. Her face was calm, but her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest—a rare sign of unease.
Adesuwa entered, her steps soft but deliberate, the rustle of her wrapper silencing the room. She curtsied low before her father, her golden bangles clinking softly.
"You called for me, Baba?" she asked, her voice steady despite the weight of the many eyes upon her.
Oba Esigie smiled warmly but did not answer immediately. Instead, he gestured for her to rise. "Adesuwa, my beloved daughter. Come closer."
She obeyed, her gaze flickering to her mother, who offered her a reassuring nod.
The Oba leaned forward, his tone now measured. "My child, you are the light of this kingdom, the pride of my heart, and the jewel of our people. That is why what I am about to ask of you carries such weight."
Adesuwa's heart quickened, but she kept her expression composed. "What is it, Baba?"
The Oba's eyes darkened slightly. "The kingdom of Ehanlen has grown ambitious. Though we remain mighty, their alliances with outsiders, particularly the British, give them an edge that we cannot ignore."
Adesuwa frowned. She had heard whispers of Ehanlen's growing strength, of their strange weapons and their trade with pale-skinned men who spoke in clipped, unfamiliar tones.
"We must secure peace," the Oba continued, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. "To do so, I have arranged for you to marry their prince, Orobosa."
The hall erupted in murmurs, some surprised, others indignant. One of the chiefs, Chief Osazuwa, rose abruptly. "Your Majesty, forgive me, but this is unthinkable! To wed our princess to the enemy?"
"Silence," the Oba commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. The room fell quiet once more.
Adesuwa blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly. "You wish for me to marry Prince Orobosa?"
"Yes," the Oba said firmly. "Ehanlen's prince is young but said to be honorable. This union will ensure peace between our kingdoms and protect our people from unnecessary bloodshed."
Adesuwa's lips parted in protest, but before she could speak, her mother's voice cut through the tension.
"It is a great honor, Adesuwa," Queen Aigbovbiosa said gently, though her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. "You will be a bridge between two great kingdoms."
Adesuwa turned to her, disbelief plain on her face. "And what of my own desires? Am I to be nothing more than a pawn in this game of alliances?"
"Your desires matter greatly," the Oba said, his tone softening. "But sometimes, duty must come before all else. You are not just my daughter; you are the future of Benin."
"Baba, I am only fifteen!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking slightly. "How can I bear such a responsibility?"
Chief Iyobosa, an older, more measured man, spoke then. "Princess, this is not a punishment but a privilege. Your beauty, your intelligence—they are gifts that can bring peace where swords would only bring ruin."
Adesuwa turned her gaze to the floor, her mind racing. She had always known that her life was not entirely her own, that as a princess, her choices would often be made for her. But this… this felt too much, too soon.
The Oba rose from his throne, stepping down to stand before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch both reassuring and heavy with expectation.
"I know this is difficult," he said softly. "But you are strong, Adesuwa. Stronger than even you know. And one day, you will see that this was the right choice."
Adesuwa looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She nodded, though her heart felt as though it were breaking.
"As you wish, Baba," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Oba smiled faintly, though the sorrow in his eyes mirrored her own. "Prepare yourselves," he said, addressing the room. "There will be a royal wedding."
As the chiefs began to deliberate the logistics of the union, Adesuwa stood motionless, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She had always dreamed of love, of a marriage born of mutual affection, not political necessity.
But if this was her duty, then she would do it—not for her father, not for the chiefs, but for the people of Benin.
As the last words of her father echoed through the grand hall, Adesuwa turned sharply on her heel. Her chest constricted with emotion—an overwhelming combination of fear, anger, and sorrow. She needed to escape the heavy air of the hall, the stares of the chiefs, and the weight of her father's decision. Without another word, she hurried from the room, her sandals clicking sharply against the polished floor as she fled toward her chambers.
Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest as she ascended the grand staircase, the hem of her royal wrapper trailing behind her. The distant sounds of conversation grew faint as she reached the top, her throat tight with the threat of tears. She pushed open the door to her room, slamming it behind her.
Inside, her maid, Itohan, was arranging fresh flowers by the window. But when she turned to see the princess standing there, her eyes wide and filled with distress, she dropped the vase, her hands shaking.
"Princess, what is it?" Itohan asked, rushing toward her.
Adesuwa collapsed onto the large, intricately carved wooden chair by the window, her breath coming in uneven gasps. The weight of it all crashed upon her—her father's request, the future she had never chosen for herself, the knowledge that she would soon become a pawn in the royal game. She couldn't hold back anymore.
Her hands pressed against her face as the tears finally came, the dam she had carefully constructed shattering into a thousand pieces.
Itohan kneeled beside her, her small frame trembling with empathy. "Shhh, my princess, it is not the end," she whispered softly, brushing the strands of hair from Adesuwa's damp forehead. "You are strong. You are stronger than this."
But Adesuwa could barely hear her. The weight of the situation—the impending marriage to a prince she had never met, to a kingdom she did not know—felt like a prison. Her mind swirled with images of Ehanlen, the foreign lands, and the strange prince who would soon be her husband.
"I don't want this," she choked out between sobs. "I don't want to marry him. I want to choose my own path. My own love..."
She buried her face in her hands, her body trembling. Itohan sat silently beside her, offering what comfort she could, but she knew there were no words that could truly ease the princess's pain.
The door to the room creaked open, and there, standing in the threshold, was Queen Aigbovbiosa. Her face, though always regal, was now marked with concern. She had not been present in the hall when Adesuwa left in a hurry, and the queen knew that something weighed heavily on her daughter's heart.
"Adesuwa," Queen Aigbovbiosa said softly, stepping forward. She walked toward her daughter, her presence both soothing and commanding. "Come, my dear."
Adesuwa did not answer, only continued to weep into her hands. The queen's heart broke at the sight of her only child in such distress, but she remained composed, her voice gentle but firm as she knelt before her.
"I know you are hurt," the queen murmured, brushing her daughter's hair back with a soft hand. "But understand, this is not the way we would have chosen for you. Your father is a wise man. The weight of our kingdom's future rests on his shoulders, and he must make difficult decisions. And you—" she paused, her voice thick with emotion, "you are the future of Benin. You are the light of our people."
Adesuwa sat up slowly, her face streaked with tears. She looked at her mother, seeing the deep sadness in her eyes. "But why must I be the one to bear this burden? Why must I marry into a kingdom I know nothing about? Why him?"
Queen Aigbovbiosa's expression softened. She reached for her daughter's hands, pulling them into her own. "You are the daughter of a mighty Oba, my love. He sees the bigger picture. Orobosa may not be the man you desire, but this union is not only for you. It is for our people."
Adesuwa turned away, glancing out the window. The golden light of the setting sun painted the landscape below, and for a moment, she found herself lost in the view. Her thoughts were torn between her duty and her own desires. The idea of marrying a stranger, one from an enemy kingdom, filled her with dread. But the weight of her family's legacy and the pressure to protect her kingdom pressed heavily on her chest.
Just as silence settled between them, a voice from outside the window pierced the air. It was a low, almost melodic hum of a flute.
"I've asked the palace musicians to play your favorite song," Queen Aigbovbiosa said, looking toward the window. "Perhaps it will soothe your heart, my child."
Adesuwa's eyes flickered toward her mother. The familiar tune of the flute had always been a comfort to her, a reminder of her childhood and simpler days before the weight of the crown's expectations had fully settled on her shoulders. She closed her eyes as the melody filled the room, its soft notes weaving through the silence.
But as the music played, something unexpected happened. The door to the room creaked open once more, and this time, it was her father, Oba Esigie, who entered. His expression was grave, yet full of care.
"Adesuwa," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "You must understand, this decision is not one I take lightly. I know the pain it causes you. But this marriage is our best hope to avoid war. The people of Benin must have peace."
Adesuwa turned her gaze to him, her heart torn between love for her father and the fury burning in her chest. "And what of my happiness, Baba? What of the life I dreamed of?"
The Oba's face softened, and for a brief moment, he appeared as the father who had once held her in his arms as a child. "Adesuwa, you are strong, and you are wise. I do not ask this of you to diminish your happiness. This will be a sacrifice, yes, but in time, you will understand. And I will always be here, beside you."
But Adesuwa could not reconcile her duty with her desires. As the music continued to play in the background, she whispered, her voice cracking, "I do not want this, Baba. But I will do my duty, for you, for the kingdom. But my heart…" She paused, looking at her parents, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down upon her. "My heart will never belong to another."
Queen Aigbovbiosa and Oba Esigie exchanged a long look, one filled with shared understanding and sorrow. Neither of them could bear to ask more of their daughter than what was already being asked. But they knew, as rulers, that sacrifice was sometimes necessary.
"We will stand by you," the queen said softly. "Always."
But Adesuwa's gaze lingered on the horizon. Deep down, her resolve was hardening. If she was to marry Orobosa, she would play the role of the dutiful bride. But there was something else, a fire she could not yet name, that simmered within her.