Sanguine

Wedding Regrets

But several months later, the Karnsteins were standing at their family chapel. It was a lovely summer day and the wedding went smoothly. Halfway through, however, Mircalla saw a very disturbing thing. Marcia was crying.

"Marcia? What's wrong?" the little girl asked. Marcia had been hiding in one of the many tents set up for the monumental occasion.

"What? Oh! Nothing!" Marcia swiped angrily at her eyes and turned away from Mircalla, silently wondering how the child had even gotten into the tent to begin with! It was supposed to have been private... But Mircalla wasn't stupid. She had seen her sister crying and she wanted to know why!

"It's not nothing," Mircalla insisted, even crossing her arms to prove her point.

"For you it is," Marcia answered back, authoritative note already slipping into her voice, though her posture still revealed fear and regret.

"It's something to you," Mircalla insisted, walking over until she was close enough to embrace her older sister. But she refrained. At least for then.

"You're too young," Marcia replied, still not turning around.

"I won't tell anybody!" Mircalla argued.

"Oh, it's not your telling that I worry about," Marcia chuckled darkly at Mircalla. Oh to be so innocent...

"Then what?! Tell me!" Mircalla continued to plead.

And several minutes later, Marcia finally yielded.

"I just don't want to get married," Marcia confessed. "I'm having wedding regrets!"

"What?! Why?!" Mircalla was beside herself that her flawless sister just confessed to not wanting to elevate her status and honor her family. Of all the Karnsteins, Mircalla would never have believed that Marcia would be the one with wedding regrets.

"Because I don't want to be tied down by some old fuddy duddy whose name I can't even pronounce! I don't want to marry a man I have no feelings for." Marcia cried. "I still want to be single! I want to lead my own life! Not the life Mama and Papa picked out! I want my freedom!"

"Oh," Mircalla's voice got small as Marcia continued to explain. She pondered her sister's words and realized that she was telling the truth. Although Mircalla hadn't noticed it until now, Marica had been miserable for the past few months, completely walled off emotionally. She'd become more reclusive and bitter. Mama and Papa had said to ignore it, saying that Marcia was just nervous, but now Mircalla wasn't so sure.

Marcia was being forced to do something she really didn't want to, and this "something" was so huge that it was going to consume her life completely. It would last until either she, or the duke, died. Mircalla felt her stomach churn at the idea of her brave big sister being imprisoned in such a way. And even worse, the duke wasn't even that nice! He was very stuffy, boring, rude and short-tempered. Mircalla had only ever met him once, but that had been more than enough. The thought of Marcia having to spend every day of the rest of her life with him made Mircalla tremble.

"But it's going to happen," Marcia moaned, interrupting Mircalla's own thoughts about the matter. "I'm going to marry him and my freedom will go over to some man I don't even really like and that will be that... forever!"

"Oh," Mircalla repeated, unsure of what else to say.

"Oh, run along Mircalla," Marcia sighed. "I've said too much already," she turned away again. Mircalla wanted to protest on several accounts, but before she could even open her mouth, Marcia had waved her off with a miserable expression and Mircalla thought better of continuing this talk...

Awhile later, Marcia and the duke were at the altar and exchanging their vows.

"If there are any objections to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest announced loudly, then one single voice cried out.

"I object!" and the whole crowd turned with a mix of amusement and horror to see a 10 year old girl mounting a pew in the back of the chapel.

Another hour later, Marcia was riding away to her new little castle and Mircalla was locked up in room, sobbing. She thought her plan would've worked. Hadn't the priest said to speak now? Apparently, that didn't include kids. Or if he did say "speak now", he didn't really mean it. Papa had been furious, dragging her away practically by the hair while Mama watched in regret. Sisters had been a mix of scared and amused while all of the duke's family looked annoyed. But Marcia, the very girl Mircalla was trying to save, hadn't even looked at her at all. It had been a blow that hurt almost as bad as Papa dragging her all the way back to her room and throwing her inside violently.

"AND YOU'RE GOING TO STAY IN THERE FOR A WHOLE WEEK, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Ferenc roared loud enough for half the castle to hear. "A MAID WILL STOP BY TO FEED YOU, BUT THAT'S ALL!"

"But it's not fair!" Mircalla sobbed back through the keyhole. "I was trying to save Marcia!" but no one cared heard her. Except for one. Margreta.

"Hey kiddo!" Margreta whispered, having snuck past Mircalla's guard to come visit the girl much later that night.

"What?" Mircalla sniffled back.

"We got you a treat!" Margreta answered, then she shoved an old pastry to the child. It was still somewhat warm.

"Thanks," Mircalla responded with another sniffle, but now she sounded a bit happier. She took the pastry and bit into it, moaning in pleasure. Ferenc had forgot to mention that Mircalla was getting dinner tonight. Her next meal wasn't scheduled for until tomorrow morning.

"I also got a letter," Margreta handed Mircalla a small paper.

"Read it to me," Mircalla said at once, still stuffing her face.

"Lazy," Margreta snorted, but she complied nonetheless.

Dearest Mircalla,

I must say that you made quite the stir at the wedding today. I can't say that I'm proud of you, but I also can't say that I was entirely disappointed. So while I must inform you to never act so rashly again, I must also thank you for providing a bit of entertainment and I applaud your effort to help me with my wedding regrets, however misguided or poorly executed they were.

Love, Marcia Karnstein.

(The last name was written in bold. Marcia had not surrendered to her husband's name just yet).

"Marcia!" Mircalla whimpered, finishing the last of her tiny meal. She tore the letter from Margreta's hands and inspected it hard. "Does it really say all that?" she asked as she read the letter. It did. Every word Margreta read was true.

Mircalla began to frown. The longer she looked at the letter the more painful it became. At last, she began to whimper again and Margreta sighed before taking the child into her arms.

"There, there. It'll be ok," she soothed and then Mircalla proceeded to sob.

"I want her back! I want her back!" she wept and Margreta could only sigh.

"I don't think she'll be back," she confessed. "At least not for awhile..." And Mircalla only wept harder in response to that

Her cries finally become loud enough to wake the guard posted at the end of the hall, but because he knew he was not very good with children, he decided to allow Margreta to stay, and when she finally snuck back out to return to bed, he pretended not to notice.