His Fulani

The weight of the Crown Prince's responsibilities settled heavily on your shoulders as your father, Sultan Muhammad Haroon II, spoke with unwavering resolve. "You are my eldest child, Amir Qasim. You have responsibilities that lies on your shoulders—responsibilities that you cannot ignore."

Seated before him on the ornate Persian rug, you kept your head low, a deep frown creasing your brow. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a bird trapped in a gilded cage. "Baba," you began, your voice foreign and shaky, "I have never, not once in my twenty-four years of life, disrespected you, or gone against your wishes."

The Sultan's nod was curt. "That is right. But, Qasim, your responsibility towards me as your father, and that towards your people are two different things. As the Crown Prince, you should know where your responsibilities lies to your people."