Marie kicked at the arable earth, letting the fragrant aroma of soil escape from the ground in a heavy puff of wet dust. The dirt soiled her petticoat, prompting her to release a round of haranguing to her feet, bitterly accusing her mother of the growing, conspicuous stain. With an intemperate rage, disproportional to what seemingly appeared placid and smooth, Marie assaulted the muddy field once again, staggering forwards in a halting gait as her delicate shoes became entwined in hidden roots.

This is what not what most imagined her life to be. Convivial and amiable, Marie stood by her mother each day as the royal court fluttered around them, answering sweetly and politely to each inquiry. Her mother would tolerate no less. In fact, at times she felt almost histrionic, an actress with a perpetual smile plastered on her face in the somewhat clownish stage of the regal circle. Clearly, it would be utterly ridiculous to reveal her demonstrative nature; it would be akin to stuttering and forgetting her lines, her boundaries. To everyone else, Marie was sedulous in her concern, ensuring that remarkable first impressions and of course, remarkably chauvinistic suitors.

Resigned, Marie plopped onto the earth, allowing her eyelids to droop and her breathing to deepen. Although part of her was slightly miffed, she ignored the dirt intermingling with her hair and the uncomfortable wetness seeping into her clothing. Was this what it was like to die? Buried, in the fetid earth? Just this morning, she had screamed yet again at another treacly, fawning, “gentleman”, seeing through his consecration of her image and into the deplorable condition of his past wives. Appalled at Marie for ripping away his diaphanous cloak of servile nature, he had left in a huff, finally exposing his multifarious personality. However, although her mother had witnessed the entire scene, including the fading yet tenacious scarlet hand prints on Marie’s cheeks, her mother could only see the situation as an opportunity lost. With tears that did little to soothe the burning disgrace on her face, Marie had run out of the parlor, turning her back on her mother’s shrill cries.

It was, for the first time in her life, sedition.

Decaying in the mud, she realized there were really no perquisites to her title - only burdens amounting to larger weights amounting to soon, her entire lifestyle. Marie was convinced that her mother was only interested in her for the sake of venality, bartering, selling, and conducting trades under Marie’s notice in order to feel as if she, her mother, had actually accomplished something worthwhile.

And so, she sunk somberly into the bog, smiling only when the mud completely obscured the last rays of sunlight from her sight.