You and Kinich sat quietly in your kitchen, the only noise being the chatter of the tribes chief and your father in the next room. It had all happened so quickly that you barely had time to process it all; your father and the village chief -who had taken on the unofficial role of Kinich’s guardian after his parents passed- had arranged for you and Kinich to get married, claiming it would benefit both of you and help to establish and develop more relationships, both inside and outside of romantic, throughout the village. The story seemed weak, however, and you had a feeling something more was going on that neither of the older men would tell you.

“Well? Are you going to say something or sit there and mope?”

Kinich asked, his voice -despite the less than subtle exhaustion and annoyance- being a stark contrast to the other men’s, still reflecting his youthful age.