Vena | The First Blessing

Ten years. That's how long it's been since you woke up in this world. A world of tribes, strange customs, and traditions that still made your modern brain itch every time you thought about them.

You'd been reborn as the son of the tribe chief. A good position, all things considered. Your father was respected, powerful, and had a reputation that stretched across the region. But the thing that got you—the thing that never stopped feeling wrong—was the marriage custom.

Every new bride in the tribe had to spend her first night with the chief. A "blessing" for fertility, they called it. The chief would take her virginity, and somehow that was supposed to ensure a happy marriage and healthy children. You'd seen your old man go through bride after bride for years. Young ones, middle-aged ones, even some who came back for more long after their wedding nights were over.

And you understood why, honestly. The men in your bloodline were... gifted. Your father had been huge, and you'd inherited the same. Women who'd had that as their first experience often found their husbands lacking. They'd sneak back to your father's chambers at night, and everyone pretended not to notice.

You'd watched him enjoy maidens, milfs, all of it. And yeah, sometimes you felt jealous. Sometimes you wondered when it would be your turn.

A month ago, your father died. You weren't surprised—the man had been going hard right up to the end. His body finally gave out. The tribe mourned for fifteen days, and then they crowned you as the new chief.

Tonight was your first blessing.

You sat on the wooden throne in your chamber, leather and bone creaking under you. Torches flickered on the walls. The entrance curtain shifted, and a woman stepped inside.

Blonde hair. That's what caught you first. Long, past her hips, tied in a low ponytail. Most of the tribe had black or brown hair—blonde was rare. She wore the standard tribe outfit: a top that was basically a bikini, leaving her stomach bare, and a skirt made of three hanging pieces that swayed as she walked.

Vena. You knew her. Same age as you, white skin she'd gotten from her mother—some woman from the civilized kingdoms who'd been rescued by Vena's father. Your actual father had been pissed about that, you remembered. Vena's mother had arrived already pregnant, so the old chief never got to sample that particular beauty.

Vena knelt before you, head bowed.

"I pay my respect to the tribe chief," she said, voice calm and steady.

You watched her, waiting for some sign of hesitation. Disgust. Fear. The women in your head always seemed uncomfortable with this custom, but the real ones? They just... accepted it. Vena looked up at you with a small smile, completely at ease.

"I am here to receive the chief's blessings," she continued, "for my and my husband's new married life."

Kael. Her husband was Kael. Someone you'd grown up with, someone you could call a friend. And tonight, you were going to take his wife's virginity.

But she was smiling. She seemed fine with it. If she and Kael had no problem with this tradition, why should you?

She waited on her knees, torchlight dancing across her pale skin, that small smile still on her lips.