Thread: Sating the New Goddess

Princess Reneah stood formally as the royal messenger entered her private chambers with news from her father. He bowed, and she nodded her head with what she hoped was regal politeness. Her blonde hair was not done up as she would have done for an appearance at Court, but the messenger was unscheduled, so she took him as she was. Her servant had helped her dress earlier in the flowing pink dress of youth she could not wear white until after her eighteenth birthday two days hence. The messenger opened a scroll and began reading the formal announcement. To all subjects of Faringain, your King Ashthorn is pleased to announce the engagement of his daughter Reneah to Second Chieftain Corathnid of the Brogdonian Federation. On the day of her majority, she leaves to live with her husband in his manor in Brogdonia. This marriage seals a treaty between Faringain and Bordonia for the benefit of all our people. A day of kingdom-wide celebration is scheduled for two weeks hence, the date of the wedding. All hail the King! As he read, Reneah's face went from expectation, to shock, to breathless disbelief. Even before the messenger finished his last sentence, she suddenly tore past him, grabbing the scroll and racing out of her chambers. Tears already stung her cheeks. The messenger followed her hastily. Princess, the King is with his advisers and not to disturbed, he tried to stop her, vainly. Reneah reached the conference room and threw open the doors, racing up to her father. The King turned to face her, irritation showing on his face for the interruption, but otherwise calm as he faced his daughter's wrath. Brogdonia! she hurled at him, half in anger, half in distress. You send to me to live with barbarians!? To marry a brute, an ape?! They have no culture, no music, no arts, no philosophy, other than the sword. They fight for pleasure, and treat their wives as slaves. How could you do this to me, Father!? she wailed. Ashthorn's expression was stoic through his daughter's tirade. When she paused to recover her breath, he spoke plainly. Yes, the Brogdonians are fighters, brutes, cruel and heartless. But fearsome warriors, and right now that is what I need. He gestured to a map of Faringain and the surrounding kingdoms. With them as my allies, we checkmate the Eporitan Empire. They cannot attack us without exposing their flank to the Brogdonians. And should it come to the point, together with the Milots, we can invade Eporitan from three sides. This alliance is vital to the kingdom, Reneah. This marriage seals the alliance. This is what royal daughters are for. This is your duty. Reneah burst into tears and collapsed onto her knees. Father! she cried plaintively. Prepare yourself to leave on your birthday, he declared icily. In two days, you set out for your husband, for Brogdonia. He signaled a couple of guards to take her arms, lift her to her feet, and escort her back to her quarters. Then he turned back to his ministers, ignoring her wails to him, pleading for mercy. Back in her room, she threw herself on her bed and cried, hitting the sheets with her fists in frustration. Her lady-in-waiting tried in vain to comfort her. You knew you would be married once you reached your majority, she offered. You knew your father would find a Prince for you... A Prince, not a savage! she retorted. I have kept myself pure for my husband. I have studied poetry and music, to entertain him, philosophy to engage his mind. My body is a temple for his desires, but none of that will interest the kind of brutes the Brogs are! There were more tears. Finally she rose and sat dejectedly at her table. The servant began to try and repair the damage to her soft hair and pale skin, her eye make-up now streaked down her cheeks from crying. This is your duty, the serving girl repeated half-heartedly. You have no choice. Reneah gazed into the mirror. After a minute her eyes narrowed in calculation, and her mouth set with a new found determination. But I do, she said softly. At the lady-in-waiting's curious stare, she continued. I have prepared myself to serve in loving adoration, not to be the slave of a brutal barbarian. My service can still be noble, and my purity maintained. She rose from her table and went to the small statue by the window. She went to her knees before the icon of the lovely goddess, clothed in white, with her arms spread in welcoming comfort. Oh Goddess Alya, I will serve you and your work with the needy. I will devote myself to your mission, and live in the protection of Your Temple. No one, not even royalty, can pierce the gates of your temple and those whom you watch over. In your guardianship, I shall be saved from my father's vile intentions and a future of agony. The Lady-in-waiting looked shocked as she overheard. Princess, you can't be serious. Your father would never allow this. Besides, no one has entered the Inner Temple of Ayla for weeks. There are whispers that she is left us. Reneah shook her head violently. No, no! She is there, I can feel it. She has to be. And she will welcome and protect me. Get me my white dress, Geesia. I must go now, before I am locked in to my father's plans and cannot escape. By the white of my simple gown, Ayla will see my intentions are pure. Several minutes later, Reneah left her chambers, accompanied by her servant, covered in a red cloak that hid her white dress beneath. The guards had orders to no let her go riding, but a short walk posed little danger of her trying an escape, so they let her leave the palace grounds. Reneah walked directly to the Temple of Ayla, strode up the marble steps, through elegant ivory columns, and lifted the heavy door knocker, She threw off her cloak and fell to her knees with downcast eyes as she waited for someone to let her in.