Dearly Beloved,

Sala fidgeted nervously in the solid wood chair she was forced to sit in. Her hands feverishly twisted the extra fabric of the beige shawl that hung around her neck. All the while, her left leg bounced rapidly on the ground.

Are you listening?

Though her head was primarily tilted down, Sala kept track of everything that was going on through her peripheral vision.

Her childhood friend Marik Ishtar sat in a chair on her left. Essentially he looked bored, as he sat still in his chair. His father sat across form him, along with her father. The two were talking animatedly about the children across from them.

Of course somewhere in their conversation, Sala's father made it a point to glare at her. She knew it was because of the way she was acting, but the girl refused to halt her actions.

I can't remember a word that you were saying.

Deciding to ignore her father, Sala turned her attention to an elderly man that was seated at the head of the table. His head was turned down toward a scroll, where he was writing feverishly in an attempt to keep up with what the two men were saying.

Can't this just be over? Sala thought anxiously. I just want to go to sleep, so I can get away from everything.

As these thought passed through Sala's mind, the two men across from them stopped talking and shook hands. Sealing whatever deal it was they made.

Sighing inwardly from relief, Sala moved as if to get out of her chair, until the old man said, "Now, before we finalize this, we must see what the young ones want form this arrangement."

Dammit! Sala thought, as she righted herself on her chair.

Are we demented?

"Master Marik?" The man urged.

"Well that's easy," Marik began, as if what he wanted was obvious. "I want for Sala to be happy and support me in whatever I do."

The boy finished while flashing a brilliant smile at Sala. The action caused the girl to blush a dark shade of red.

After the old man had scribbled down Marik's request, the old man turned to Sala, saying, "Miss Sala?"

"I… I…" Sala started, her light voice quivered as everyone turned to stare expectantly at her.

"I…" Sala tried again, as her fidgeting intensified.

"Come child, you must have some idea of what you want from your marriage to my son." Mohammad Ishtar said impatiently.

Or am I disturbed?

At that moment the weight of the situation hit Sala heavily. She was eleven years old and she was getting married. Most women in the tomb keepers society didn't get married until after their first menstruation cycle had passed; which wouldn't be for another two years for her at least. So why were they doing this to her now? Was it because the women of her family always married into the hierarchy of the clan and Marik was of age to marry?

Sala started hyperventilating, as all of this was going through her head. Her eyes were shut tight, as she tried to make sense of everything.

Though her thoughts were soon cut short, as she felt someone grab her hand. Opening her eyes, Sala looked down at the foreign hand with a confused expression.

Following the length of the arm up to the person's face, Sala's frightened brown eyes gazed into Marik's confident violet orbs.

"Go on Sala. Don't be afraid to tell them what you want." Marik said, giving her another smile.

Nodding softly, Sala took a deep breath before she gently squeezed Marik's hand, and said, "I… I want for Marik to be happy, and I want him to trust that I will always be there for him when others won't. I don't want there to be any secrets between us. That goes both ways."

A furious blush covered Sala's face when she finished, as she looked over at Marik and gave him a small smile.

The space that's in between…

A few moments passed, as the old man finished the writing. Once he was done, he said, "Now all that's left to be done is for the two in question to sign it."

Passing the scroll, quill and ink pot to Marik, Sala watched as he signed hi name as elegantly as a twelve year old boy could. Afterwards, Marik handed the items to Sala, who very shakily signed her name next to Marik's.

…Insane and Insecure…

After the names were signed, the contract was taken from the table, rolled up, and sealed. To later be put in the Tomb Keepers' Library.

Everyone, except for Sala stood from their seats then, and slowly started making their way out of the room.

Why did this have to happen to me? Sala thought sadly, as she lay her head against the table. I wish mother was here. She wouldn't have let this happen. At least I was married to Marik and not some perverted old man.

"Sala, are you coming?" A voice said, snapping the girl from her silent reverie.

Looking up, the girl saw Marik was standing in the doorway, waiting for her to join him.

"Y… Yes Marik, I'm coming." Sala said, as she stood from her chair and scurried to stand beside Marik.

Once she was by his side, Marik took Sala's hand, and began to lead her to their new room.