The Weight of Legacy

In her time, the widow’s interest in marital rites had been a clinical thing. Malwine certainly didn’t recall how that wedding in her past life had gone, but something told her that was for the best—her hate for Rupert transcended lifetimes.

The fact stood, though, that there had always been a degree of separation between her curiosity and any genuine interest in such rites. She wanted to know because knowing could open potential avenues for additional research into the people involved, not because the information held any personal meaning to her. Knowing things like premarital capitulations and dispensations existed taught her that obtaining such documents could provide key evidence that might have otherwise been lost. The former could provide decent hints at the very least, as the financial details of the bride or groom were often tied to people close to them, and the latter, well—as awkward as finding out that any couple of ancestors had been related to each other was, they did find themselves having to explain just the how in such circumstances, and that often translated into information about several generations back for both partners.

With otherworlders being so normalized here, I wonder if… Nope, not going there.

Before Malwine could catch herself almost hoping for hypothetical endogamy in her new family tree, she shoved that widow-y mindset back into the recesses of her mind where they belonged and got back to the point—learning how Grēdôcavan weddings worked presented her with an opportunity. Sure, she wouldn’t be privy to all the legal stuff, but rites tended to make a lot of references.

And if she learned anything interesting, she could revisit the archives and look into her grandparents’ records again. Or Bernie’s ancestors, I guess. …If I ever really need some people to practice on.

Carefully, Malwine took the setting in again, trying her best not to speculate too much. Not yet.

The archway Lambrecht stood under wasn’t particularly thick, and she honestly wasn’t sure if it was even meant to be part of the small structure behind it. The only actual opening was the window behind it, and it would barely have been enough for a person to fit through, at least if she was using Lambrecht as reference.

It would admittedly have been very awkward if it turned out there was a back door she simply couldn’t see, though—the thought hadn’t struck her before. Still, the officiant seemed to put considerable effort towards standing by the exact middle of the arch—and by extension, aligned with the window—so the odds of it being relevant weren’t zero… unless it was just Lambrecht being Lambrecht, which her limited experience with the man’s eccentricities had her worrying might be the case.

While Malwine was busy speculating immediately after telling herself she wouldn’t speculate, a few of the guests looked over their shoulder or turned around entirely. She followed their gaze, twisting in her chair until she saw what had caught their attention—Thekla.

Her heart might have skipped a beat at the sight of her aunt just casually wearing her gift, even if that had been her intent. Maybe not for the wedding itself, sure, but Thekla would have started wearing it sooner or later, as with any accessory—Malwine wasn’t even sure why the sight of it in public so soon caught her off-guard. Aw, fuck. I think I’m starting to care. Not in the clinical sense she had cared to know of and keep track of older relatives in this life and the past one, but truly so. It was a nascent thing, but undeniable enough to have her sinking into her seat.

The bride looked pristine despite everything that had gone down, not a single hair out of place as she walked closer. Malwine spent a brief moment wondering if this still counted as ‘walking down the aisle’ when they were practically in the middle of a field—it probably did. The one odd detail was how Thekla kept a hand to the side, holding nothing yet acting as though she weren’t alone. With her other hand, she clutched a red flower Malwine didn’t know the name for, firm against her chest.

Is this one of those giving away the bride situations? Except there was no one with Thekla. Considering how Beryl had apparently made it so that Kristian would be skipped when it came to his own grandchild’s guardianship, it seemed entirely possible for her younger sister to also be passing their father over—in this case, in favor of literally no one.

Still, for just holding an imaginary hand to be part of the ceremony? That was a weird tradition.

Malwine squinted. …Actually. From the look on Lambrecht’s face, it might not have actually been an intended part of the walk at all. He didn’t appear displeased so much as like he was trying his best to be professional about what he was witnessing.

The guests remained silent as Thekla finished walking herself down the aisle, soon facing the foreign officiant. She bowed her head before making an exaggerated motion as if she were letting go of the imaginary hand. “For lack of a mother, a mother’s mother, or aunt at any grade, I fear I must introduce myself, well, myself, for this dance.”

Her words came off as rehearsed—and something told Malwine her aunt would only ever look that serious when reading off a script—yet they stung a little.

Malwine felt the absurd urge to chastise Katrina and OBeryl for being too dead to be there for Thekla—nevermind that she probably could have gotten the former at least somewhat closer to living again if she’d actually been willing to work for it. While he’d been vague on the detail, she was pretty sure Veit hadn’t meant the low end of eight digits when he’d spoken of his maximum [Toll].

Eh. Concerns for later. She still hadn’t gotten over how her uncle had casually accused his own parents of what she was pretty sure amounted to genocide.

“Unfortunate indeed,” Lambrecht replied, “I hold it not against you, lest I forget my manners. Claimants come in many ways, and from many places. May I have this dance, and the name of this rose?”

Officially even more confused than she usually was, Malwine could only quiet down and watch.

“You may—my mother named me Thekla,” her aunt pushed the flower forward—apparently a ‘rose’ despite only vaguely resembling the image that word brought to mind—spinning it between her fingers as Lambrecht reached for the stem. “As for this dance, you may have it as well, if you might have for me, an answer.”

“An answer? That, I suspect I have.”

Faint music started playing from who knew where and Malwine couldn’t help but lean towards Adelheid. “Do you hear that?”

Her whispered question was met by a shrug. “The man under the ground has a violin.”

“…I see.”

Having learned there was apparently a violinist somewhere under their feet, Malwine chose not to question the sound effects any further, even as it became clear that the volume would rise and fall just in time to avoid overshadowing the conversation between the officiant and the bride.

Thekla didn’t seem to have any issues with the dance, but Lambrecht made even the most graceful of her moves appear stiff by comparison. Whether it was because of whatever mobility his higher rank afforded him, or his presumable centuries of experience doing this, it was impossible to tell. Probably both things.

“I have a love to meet at this ball, and I fear I may not know how to let it be known.”

Lambrecht spun Thekla around, the rose still between them. “That kind of fear is natural, especially when it’s the first time.”

At some point, Malwine had started to feel like she was watching a play instead of a wedding.

A light bloomed within the structure behind the archway, uncharacteristically warm for the lights around here—fiery both in its hue and in how it seemed to faintly flicker.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Fret not, my lady, for tonight—” Lambrecht gave the bride one last spin before letting go of the rose “—you will come to learn what it means to claim a heart.”

Thekla spun almost roughly before landing at an angle that left her facing the window directly—just then, Abelard’s shape became visible, getting closer until the light was close enough for his features to be made out. He reached for the stem, letting it rest between his index and middle fingers while it technically remained in Thekla’s grasp. “For me?”

Her aunt grinned, a crack shining through all these rehearsed steps. “Always.”

“Then perhaps, I should venture out and see what this ball has to offer.”

There was clearly some tacit agreement to ignore how clumsy the groom’s climb out the window was, so Malwine tried her best to follow along.

“You know, they say a partner for the ball could someday be a partner for long,” Thekla said as she placed the flower on Abelard’s chest, leaving it to be held by a waiting brooch.

Abelard tipped his had at her. “And they say a partner for long will always know what you want.”

“I see, I see, I see,” Thekla tugged at her dress and motioned for the groom to follow. “I do believe I know what you want.”

The dance that followed was a closer one, without a flower to separate them. The music grew even fainter as Thekla started listing things that sounded suspiciously like wedding vows, though phrased as if they were guesses as to what her ‘dance partner’ might want.

I don’t know what I was expecting anymore, but somehow it wasn’t this.

With each ‘guess’, Abelard would give his assertion, an occasional comment sprinkled then and there. As the dance slowed, the couple growing closer to each other, the exchange shifted somewhat, with both of them starting to make suggestions until it almost sounded like a conversation.

“And two children, a girl and a boy, a boy and a girl, any order. It’d be just like it is back home.”

“Only two? What a wonderful number. Whoever taught my parents to count shouldn’t have taught them of numbers past three.”

“Whoever taught your parents should have done many things differently. Anyhow—House?”

“Mine, of course. It’s not like you have one.”

“Must you wound a man so?”

“Fear not, I shall steal your naming customs in return.”

“The agreement of two children, as in my homeland, already carried that implication.”

“Yet it was an implication, not an explicit statement. How could you have known I did not mean to name our boy Petracus Rīsan?”

“That is not a name.”

“If it previously wasn’t, it is one now, and I would like to submit it as our fallback name in case we accidentally have a second boy.”

“And in the event of an accidental girl?”

“Petracusin, obviously.”

“How about no.”

It was admittedly growing harder and harder to tell if they had rehearsed this in full or not. Either way, Thekla and Abelard continued with what amounted to a public discussion of the terms they had agreed upon. Malwine figured they probably had—or would have—an actual written marriage contract somewhere, but this presumably served the purpose of announcing whatever they wished to be known about the terms.

And man, was it thorough. While it never reached the levels of tediousness that listening to Lambrecht ramble had, the couple did discuss some things she honestly wouldn’t have thought of, and she did make an interesting discovery in the process. Despite generally looking like it got stuck in a fantasy version of the modern era, never quite reaching any milestones resembling more industrialist societies, this world apparently did directly consider some things the widow hadn’t encountered explicitly mentioned in records until more recent centuries. For one, they did apparently consider what would happen if they agreed they preferred children of a specific gender, only for them to choose differently once they were grown.

Presumably, the answer to that was up to every individual couple—and presumably, most of them did not go to ‘try and convince them to change their name to Petracus or Petracusin then’. Even if that last part was clearly a joke, it was a breath of fresh air. Knowing this did make the idea of encountering any Margaret Smiths out in the wild seem that much less likely. Then again, I’m still not sure why Kristian and Bernie were so annoyed at Alaric’s guest, at least not exactly.

They turned slightly more serious as the discussion continued, bringing up actual potential names for any extra children, though they did agree on a hard cap of three in total regardless of whether they actually succeeded at getting a boy and a girl as they hoped for. Honestly, listening to this much family planning was downright bizarre to Malwine—not because there was anything wrong with it, or even that it was being discussed so openly, but because if this kind of thinking existed, just how had her grandfather ended up with this many kids?

Was this intentional?

As much as she hesitated to involve her little sister in something like this, she couldn’t help herself, whispering her question to Adelheid. “Can you ask Grandpa why he’s had more kids than Auntie Thekla and Abelard want?”

Adelheid briefly scowled at that, like she had just heard one of the rare few things in the world actually capable of making her look displeased. “Yeah, why?”

She disappeared a second later, with no one around them reacting.

Malwine licked her lips. I really hope I didn’t just start something. Her worries were somewhat assuaged by her little sister’s swift return, though.

“Father wants children with any Affinities, like that matters somehow?” Adelheid shrugged, clearly confused—Malwine only felt the tiniest pang of guilt at how she’d likely skewed the girl’s perception of just how difficult getting Affinities appeared to be for most people. “And Be— Mother didn’t say it, but she hopes no one gets {Implicit}.”

Oh, that reminder stung. Worse yet, Malwine still hadn’t figured out what the specific word for killing Saints was, so she still hadn’t updated her panel on that matter out of sheer frustration. Was she just looking for an excuse to procrastinate thinking about the logistics of making an enemy out of a Saint? Yes. Was it nonetheless valid? Also yes.

“That’s… interesting, thank you.”

Hopefully, Adelheid didn’t catch too much subtext with that strange ability of hers, as half the things she had just thought of were probably troubleso—

“Killing a Saint?” Adelheid asked in a whisper—there was a concerning edge to her tone that somewhat implied she wasn’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll, uh, talk more about that later. When we’ve grown up some more. We’re still too tiny and I think Saints are very tall.”

“Aw.” Though she didn’t exactly hide her disappointment, her little sister did drop the matter, pouting only briefly before rejoining the other guests in watching the ceremony.

She can’t read my mind, can she? After some seconds of silence, Malwine exhaled in relief—she’d probably have to still be more careful about her darker thoughts, though. Taking too long to give the girl an answer had probably worked against her there.

Lambrecht clapped, then, drawing her attention back to the archway. She hadn’t seen when Thekla and Abelard had moved back there, as the music was still playing even now that they were no longer dancing. The notes deepened, somewhat somber now. “Five hundred cycles, you say?”

“Five hundred cycles, we say,” the bride and groom repeated.

With a nod, the officiant motioned for them to move closer before getting started with another speech—at least it didn’t seem like he was just stalling for time now.

In fact, the man seemed to actually be capable of being somewhat succinct with his words. It felt downright miraculous.

Aside from restating what they had spoken about and getting confirmation for individual terms, Lambrecht did sprinkle in a few details for clarification, such as how the length of the marriage term could always be shortened—though not increased—by mutual agreement without the need of an officiant, and how any flagrant disregard for the contract terms, or disrespect from one partner to the other, could nullify the arrangement entirely.

I guess Lambrecht’s people are the divorcee cult for a reason. Nevermind that she was the only one actually calling them that, as far as she knew.

Still, Malwine found herself smiling as her aunt and new uncle kissed, with Lambrecht saying some final words before watching expectantly as they began walking towards the window.

“And so, as you have found hearts to claim, our final note comes with the reminder of what it means to claim a home.”

Thekla waited approximately one second before just pulling a batch of tiles out of thin air—small and reminiscent of those samplers for paint swatches that Malwine recalled from the widow’s world—while Abelard started measuring spots on the brick wall.

A few laughs finally broke through the silence, the more experienced guests presumably unable to help themselves—even Lambrecht looked like his serious expression wouldn’t last long. He mouthed something, and Abelard froze, tapping Thekla’s shoulder.

Brows furrowed, she glared at the officiant. His repetition of at least one word was somewhat audible. “…inside…”

The bride and groom locked eyes before practically diving through the window, away from prying eyes.

Lambrecht cleared his throat. “As is custom, the newlyweds shall now prepare their showcase of a home—they have two hours, then guests who choose to wander in may be received. You are under no obligation to stay if you do not wish to. If you’re leaving, feel free to leave your gifts under this arch, but be mindful of the optics if you do not intend to deliver any gifts personally, especially if you are a cultivator. …And with that, enjoy the refreshments—be ready to resume festivities in time, lest I make you resume something else, though.”

With that vague threat, the officiant unceremoniously scurried off to grab food, and the guests followed soon after, now finally talking amongst themselves in earnest.

What even would Bernie have done in this position? Slapped green feylights everywhere?

Malwine wouldn’t deny she was more than a bit curious as to what this showcased home her aunt and uncle were preparing would look like, but it would be a while before they got to see it, and well…

…those snack tables were calling to her.