“You have a visitor, Tuven.”

Tuven stood from his seat at the sound of his m’aih’s voice. He smoothed down his tunic as he waited for his guest to be shown into his room. He was pleased when Makeda appeared in the doorway, her bright pink dress a stark contrast to the dark indigo robes his mother wore behind her. Her normally expressive face was hard and stony, as if she were to hold it otherwise, she would break down in a fit of crying. It was an unseemly event that Tuven hoped to avoid.

“Will you require any refreshments for your guest, Tuven?”

Tuven looked to Makeda. “Do you require any sustenance, Makeda?”

She shook her head in the negative, making the little bells she wore on the end of her hair ties ring.

“No, we do not require any refreshments, m’aih.”

“Very well, I shall leave you to your guest.”

As soon as the door slid shut behind his mother, Tuven found himself with two armfuls of a weeping human. It was a very shocking turn of events that made Tuven uncomfortable. He did not know what to do with weeping females, as he had never encountered one before. Somehow he knew that removing her person from his own was not the correct response. Despite the waves of emotion that assaulted him by the close contact, he did not find his position wholly objectionable. As he bent his head to address his friend, he noticed that her hair smelled like a Terran citrus fruit. It was very pleasing, although he wondered why one would strive to smell like food.

“Are you injured, Makeda?” Tuven questioned after a time. The moisture from her cool tears had begun to seep through his tunic.

“No,” she choked out.

“Has someone close to you expired?” Tuven knew that humans wept because of such an occurrence.

Makeda shook her head, the soft mass of curls that framed her head brushing against Tuven’s cheek. He found the sensation to be …ticklish.

“Then why do you weep, Makeda?”

At this, Makeda backed up from him, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Tuven noticed the way the tears glistened on her brown skin.

“I heard my sa’mekh and sa’mekh’al talking. They are contemplating making me marry Sutek! His parents came to the house to talk to my sa’mekh’al. I cannot marry Sutek. He is mean and awful to me. He will make me cry everyday. Sutek would disapprove of me when I laugh or smile and I like to laugh and smile.”

Tuven listened patiently. “My parents plan to bond me with T’Lang. Every Vulcan child becomes betrothed to another beginning at the age of seven. It is our way, Makeda.”

While T’Lang was a very gifted student, he did not like how she was rude to his friend Makeda or how she called her a primate. However, he had become resigned to the fact that within six months he would be bound to Lizard Lips, as Makeda called her. He found it odd that he could not similarly abide the idea of Makeda being betrothed to Sutek. It made him angry and he frowned most openly.

“Lizard Lips!” Makeda gasped. “No, you cannot marry Lizard Lips. She is awful and mean. She will not tickle you or make you smile.”

“I do not smile,” Tuven replied, affronted.

“Yes you do,” Makeda replied. “I can feel your smile when I tickle you and you get all green in the tips of your ears. You always say it is illogical when I tickle you, but I know that you like it.”

Tuven did not argue that one could not feel another person smile, he was too busy trying to prevent a blush from blossoming on his cheeks. He did like to be tickled, but it was a secret that no one must know.

“Makeda, there is nothing that we can do. Our parents choose our future mates. That is the Vulcan way.”

“There must be something we can do,” Makeda protested, her eyes wide. “I do not want to marry Sutek and I know that you do not want to bond with T’Lang. I would rather marry you, Tuven! Then we can be friends forever. Would that not be wonderful, Tuven?”

Tuven did not say anything. He did think that it would be wonderful. Life with Makeda would never be boring. He also knew that he would not be happy to see Makeda bound to another Vulcan. However, he also knew that happiness had little to do with Vulcan marriage.

“Don’t you want to be my friend forever, Tuven?” Makeda asked after a while.

Tuven opened his mouth to reply that it was impossible to be friends for forever, but he found that he could not say such a thing when Makeda looked to be on the verge of another crying fit. It had been unpleasant when she cried before and Tuven knew that she did not literally mean forever.

“Yes. I would like to be your friend until the day that I die, Makeda.”

Makeda smiled brightly, before wrapping her friend in a hug and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Tuven found it impossible to prevent the blush from rising to his face after that. He stared at Makeda with wide almost unblinking eyes, his face and ears a bright olive green, as he listened to Makeda lay out her plan of action. Tuven found himself agreeing dumbly to all of her plans. Soon, Makeda announced that she had to return home, as her sa’mekh’al was not aware of her impromptu visit. Tuven mutely gave her the traditional salute of farewell before walking to his meditation alcove and lighting the firepot. After he had meditated for a time, he began to realize to what he had agreed. He soon found himself going green for quite a different reason.

****************

Sarek sat watching the young boy with a feeling akin t o amusement. With great dignity and aplomb, Tuven had requested a private audience to discuss an important matter.

"I would like the honor of Makeda's hand in marriage, Ambassador."

"Is it not customary to be bound to one's entire bride and not just to an extremity?" Sarek replied, one brow raised in question.

"Yes Ambassador," Tuven replied, the rapid blinking of his eyes the only sign of his nervousness. "I would like to be betrothed to all of Makeda. I was simply employing a Terran expression where the hand serves as a metaphor for the female intended. I believe that the idiom dates back to an ancient Celtic marriage ritual whereby..."

"Yes. I am familiar with the phrase, Tuven," Sarek interrupted, his mirth growing in spite of his severe facade. "How would you support Makeda should I grant your request?"

Tuven blinked, tilting his head to the side. “I assure you, Ambassador, that I am very capable of providing for Miss. Uhura. I shall inherit my father’s lands and business upon his death and our family holdings are quite extensive. Miss. Uhura would want for nothing and I would honor her as a much…as a much…beloved wife.”

Sarek wished that his Amanda were present to witness this  event. He knew that she would be smiling brightly and striving valiantly not to laugh at the serious little boy. “Tuven, I am sure that you are aware that such matters are properly decided by one’s parents?”

“Yes, Ambassador. I have informed my parents of my desire to wed your ko’fu’al and they have no objections.”

“Then why have they not come on your behalf?” Sarek asked, raising one brow in question.

“Makeda told me that it is the custom on Earth for a prospective husband to ask for the hand of his intended from the male in her family most responsible for her care.”

Ah. He should have known that this was all Makeda’s doing. No doubt she had taken to reading ancient Terran novels again, despite his objections that they were not the most intellectually nutritious fare. Makeda’s already exuberant nature did not need the additional fuel of romantic novels. 

“The decision is not mine to make, Tuven. You shall have to apply to Makeda’s parents,” Sarek replied. He was not so cruel as to deny his ko’fu and sa’fu the pleasure of this interview.