[020] Nirett part 1 (original fic)

[helenorvana]

Title: Nirett
Wordcount: 2,115
Rating: PG-13 to mild-R
Warning(s): mentions of under-aged sex, dub-con
Summary: The queen has an unusual petitioner.


~: Nirett :~
_________



It was rare that the queen and king of Orvana were able to snatch a half-hour or more of privacy, ignoring the duties that awaited them in the corridors of the palace, and they treasured their few moments of quiet and each other's company. Their usual retreat was the expansive garden in the rear court of the palace, where they could enjoy the tang of the sea breeze without so much the smell of the harbor, and could bask unashamed in the sun.

But they had only just settled down to a small luncheon laid out on the wrought iron table in the gazebo nestled in the center when they heard the distant boom of the heavy doors of the palace shutting, and shortly thereafter the crunch of boots on the gravel path that led to them. Raenel put down his glass with a little more force than was strictly necessary and huffed out a displeased sign, mouth twisting into a sour expression. Corine empathized, but she turned to greet the manservant making his way up the steps with a pleasant expression.

He paused halfway up and dipped into a bow that was almost too low; he, it seemed, clearly understood his presence was rather unwanted. "If it pleases you, Sire," he addressed her, "there is a petitioner who wishes to see you."

Corine frowned, baffled. "They cannot wait until tomorrow's session?" Every prince held a Petitioner's Court twice weekly; Monday and Thursday mornings were those Prince Lynfressa had set aside for the citizens of Charelo. Corine, however, held Petitioner's Court only twice a month, as those cases she reviewed had nearly always been first presented to a prince and then deemed necessary for the queen to review, though not urgently so. As far as she knew, there were no real surprises waiting for her tomorrow.

"She described it as a matter of some urgency, Sire - and privacy. Her ship put into port this morning, and she made her way directly here."

Her ship? Then she was not Charelan, who comprised most of the few cases she heard which had not been first presented to a prince. While not unheard of for an islander to take their grievance directly to the Crown for resolution, it was rather rare, and always a matter of 'some urgency,' indeed.

"Very well," she instructed, pushing her plate away. The food smelled delicious, and her stomach rumbled rebelliously, but it would have to wait. "Direct her to the east receiving room. We will be with her presently."

"Directly, Sire." The manservant dipped low again, murmured "Your Majesty" to the king, and retreated swiftly from the royal presence.

Raenel was scowling at Corine's mostly untouched plate when she turned back to him, but it was a resigned scowl. He poked at his own trout morosely, knowing full well their escape was never going to be long in the first place but resenting its end nonetheless. "Do you want me to come with you?" he asked her plate.

She smiled at him, reached out and swept her thumb over his cheekbone fondly. "Thank you, but no. I'd rather you go over the second quarter export figures with Counselor Anarette when you're finished here. You can brief me over lunch."

The scowl was replaced with a pair of rolling eyes. "Only if you actually eat the food while I brief you," he conditioned. She nodded in agreement. "All right. Calm seas to you."

"And you." Corine leaned over the table to drop a quick, chaste kiss on his still-pouting mouth and then pushed back from the table, dropping her napkin beside her plate and leaving the gazebo. Major Staedip fell in behind her as they made their way into the palace. It wasn't as populated in the rear quarters, and it was a quick journey to the informal receiving room where she dealt with more delicate petitions.

There were only two other occupants when the queen arrived, the major in tow; the manservant whom had first attended on her, and the petitioner. Both rose at their arrival and dipped into bows, one more awkward than the other.

"If it pleases you, Sire," said the manservant, "Ms. Asenulin-Taelid."

The girl dipped into another awkward bow - and she was a girl, couldn't possibly be more than fifteen, mousy brown hair falling somewhat messily around her thin shoulders when she rose up again. Corine lowered her estimation of the girl's age a few years when she got a good look at her soft face and huge brown eyes. She was tiny, draped in a simple white blouse that left her tanned arms bare and a pair of capris that ended just below her knees; plain, simple sandals adorned her feet. First-marriage cords dangled at her side, knot at her right hip, and the queen felt a twinge of unease.

"It does please Us to welcome you to Our court, Ms. Asenulin-Taelid," Corine responded formally, shifting easily into the royal plural. "We hope your journey was pleasant?"

"Yes, Sire, it was," the girl - Nirett - squeaked.

"Good," Corine nodded. She gestured to the armchairs arrayed in a cozy circle. "Please sit." The girl waited until Corine had settled into a seat herself before dropping somewhat gracelessly back into the chair she'd occupied before the queen's arrival. "We are told you come with a matter of some urgency?"

Nirett flushed and grasped her hands in her lap. “I do, Sire. It’s about my first-husband?” She sounded so hesitant, and Corine’s mood soured. Of course it was about a first-marriage. Why else would a girl so young travel so far without said first-husband, or parents?

First-marriage was a uniquely Orvaen tradition of betrothal, originating long before even the arrival of Corine’s ancestors to the islands, when the islands fought amongst themselves so frequently and violently that children were often left parentless. Girls at five were betrothed to a pre-teen boy, and they were bound in “first-marriage” from her tenth birthday until she came of age at nineteen. The couple could then choose to either continue in a full marriage, as Corine and Raenel had, or part ways to seek their own spouses.

It had grown from a need to keep up the population while it was busy killing itself off, just as much as a need to provide the girls with a safe place in the event of their parents’ death and to provide the boys with some form of responsibility, to mature them swiftly. It was illegal for either spouse to engage in sexual relations with anyone else while bound in first-marriage – their entire purpose was to produce children from within themselves. It was the only infidelity law remaining not only in the kingdom of Orvana, but the world as a whole, and for that and several other reasons Corine had been debating its necessity for nearly five years with Raenel. Three thousand years ought to be more than long enough.

She carefully kept any trace of her displeasure from her face and voice. Nirett likely knew nothing of the queen’s dislike of the tradition, and she didn’t want to color the girl’s accounting. “Tell Us your petition, then.”

“Yes, Sire,” she said, and drew a deep, fortifying breath. Corine hid a smile at her nervousness. “I was betrothed to Lynarik – Lynarik Taelid, Sire, my first-husband – when I was five. Obviously. But my parents died when I was eleven, so we donned the cords then, and I went into his household…”

Nirett’s tale sounded disturbingly like a recounting of first-marriages in those early centuries. Her first-husband and his family became responsible for the girl with her own parents’ death, but as Lynarik was already berthed on a fishing boat and drawing a steady income, he was deemed capable of providing for his first-wife in a satisfactory manner, and thus left to his own devices, his parents not intruding or mentoring.

Lynarik had begun to fancy one of the other girls who worked in the harbor, an Estaya, and had grown increasingly frustrated with the constraints of his first-marriage. And, typically, he had taken out his sexual frustrations on his first-wife. At first, it had simply been mouth or hand-play, but Nirett was too small to do much good that way, and thus he’d ‘encouraged’ them to move on to more involved acts.

“Do you know if Lynarik and Estaya have consummated anything?” Corine interjected gently.

“I don’t … think so?” Nirett blushed again, but the queen had no inclination to smile. “He calls me her name usually, but I don’t think they’ve done anything. It’s just … it hurts. I didn’t think it was supposed to be that way – my mother never said anything about hurting.”

“She was right, it’s not,” Corine confirmed. “Does he listen to you at all when you tell him to stop, that it hurts?”

She made a face, looking worried. “Well, I haven’t ever outright refused him. He’s my husband. Isn’t he entitled?”

“Only to what you permit,” the queen corrected quickly. “Refusing to acknowledge a ‘no’ is rape, regardless of marital status. And rape is always illegal.”

“Oh,” Nirett said. She looked stunned. Corine wasn’t encouraged.

She’d gone to her in-laws when Lynarik had first started initiating painful sex, but they had told her Lynarik was her husband and responsible for her, and had refused to hear anything more. So she’d gone to the priest a year later, but he (and Corine took careful note of his name, so she could bring it to the attention of the High Priest in her own temple) told her that first-marriage was “a secular convention, not a matter of concern to the gods, so you must apply to your secular authorities.” Frustrated, Nirett had applied to the village mayor, but had received essentially the same response as she’d gotten from her in-laws. The chieftain, Orr Tafal, hadn’t been any more sympathetic.

“Where are you from, Ms. Asenulin-Taelid?” Corine enquired following this.

“Biduya, Sire, on Kaikaili,” Nirett answered. Corine recognized the name only vaguely as the seat of a minor county on the southernmost (and most provincial) of the five islands, which would explain why the mayor and chieftain were in accord.

“If your mayor and chieftain have refused you, why then have you not applied to your duke?”

“Duke Amris is Orr Tafal’s cousin, Sire,” Nirett answered. Well, then.

“Why then not apply to your prince?”

“She’s at court, Sire,” Nirett said, tone clearly indicating that was obvious, and shouldn’t she know already, being the queen? “I didn’t want to wait, and I figured, if I was going to make the trip anyway, why not go straight to the top?”

“There is a certain degree of protocol involved,” Corine demurred, “but I admire your initiative.” She waited a moment for Nirett to continue, but it seemed the girl was finished, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. Corine leaned back in her chair slightly and eyed Nirett carefully, making no effort to disguise her perusal. The girl noticed, and twitched, but bore up under it without comment.

“As you should know,” Corine finally said, slipping back into the more formal language of the court, “the Crown and Her deputies reserve the right to dissolve any marriage, first or full, should it be deemed necessary for the safety and well-being of a spouse or child. Are you asking Us to dissolve your marriage, Ms. Asenulin-Taelin?”

“I … no? Not really?” Nirett was clearly flustered. “I mean, I’m not old enough to work, and I can’t live on my own. I just want something to be done that isn’t being done in Biduya. I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.” She was going to rub her fingers raw, she was gripping and twisting them so hard. She chewed on her lip, brows furrowed in distress.

“And that is why you have applied to a higher authority,” Corine hastened to reassure her. “It is for Us to know, and decide.” Nirett didn’t look very reassured. “Thank you for bringing Us your petition, Ms. Asenulin. We will hold Petitioner’s Court tomorrow morning. Pease return; We will have an answer for you then.”

“Yes, Sire,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

Corine gave her a nod, then looked beyond her to the manservant still hovering by the door. “Please direct Ms. Asenulin to the main hall for the lunch meal, and arrange for rooms to be prepared for her in the south wing.”

“Directly, Sire,” he said, and bowed as the queen rose. Nirett scrambled to her feet in order to dip into her own bow, and had not risen from it before Corine had departed.