The idea of marrying at my age was unthinkable. Literally, I couldn't stand the fact that I would ever marry someone, at 13. I saw girls in the village scrummaging under the rules of men and political power. No way was I going to marry such a man, not even if he was 13 like me. I decided I would tell my father that I couldn't marry a man like that, nor would I. The lightning outside blared sounds and the rain pounded overhead. I picked at my meal as my father set down his wine glass, "Have you decided? A answer must be sent." Multiple things raced through my mind. The man had money, our country didn't. If I married, people would love me for what I did, if I didn't marry.. there would be serious consequences. I sighed and teared-up "I'll marry," my mother and father's jaws dropped, "under one condition, our armies must combine." A few maids, butlers, and servants peeked their heads into the dining hall. "WHAT?!" my father roared. "Do you know what will happen if we're both being attacked?" I thought for a moment. "Father, mother? Listen to me!" I cried, "If my husband dies, we will still have strong enough forces to rule, and not let our power come to an end. The armies will be combined so double the strength, half the want to fight our country, and more respect." My father rubbed his forehead in thinking, constant thinking. "I suppose," he said quietly. "That might be an option." I smiled ad thanked him, he interrupted me, "I said it might be an option. So calm yourself and never speak of this to anyone."