A Queen Redestined

Chapter 3

Truly, the rules and etiquettes of Marimiers were endless.

Ever since Lord and Lady Vifort had officially accepted the betrothal, letters and packages of books had come from Marimiers, ostensibly from the courtiers whose job it was to ensure a smooth journey for Marie, both physically and culturally. 

Marie read through all of them, each one seemingly worse than the last, with ever more instructions that made Marie feel stifled even before she had stepped a foot out of Castle Vifort. 

”Listen to this,” she complained, perched from atop a rock near the riverbank, while Fabian and Victoria lazed on the grass, enjoying the sun. ” ’The princess consort’s morning routine is a public routine’-”

Victoria sat up, squinting against the sunlight. 

”Come again? Your morning routine is public? How?”

Marie rolled her eyes, skimming the rest of the instructions. ”According to this letter, it’s a great honour for courtiers to be allowed to dress and primp the prince or princess consort. Traditionally it was a time when they heard news and counsel from their closest confidants too, so if you’re allowed into the chambers, it’s supposed to be some big deal. But I can’t imagine they’ll let me have any power of the sort, to decide who comes in or goes. Not with the insane amount of rules they’ve sent along that they expect me to follow flawlessly.”

”We could start powdering your face and adding rouge in the mornings,” Fabian needled her, ”would that help you get used to it faster?”

”You can try it, if you fancy a knife to your face in the morning!”

Victoria, however, was still thinking about the morning routine in earnest, and ignored Fabian’s laughter as Marie flung grass in his face.

”If you have to meet people first thing in the morning,” she pondered, ”when are you even going to have time to pee? Or do you have to pee in front of them? That’s horrible.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. ”Really? Out of everything else, that’s the thing you’re worried about?”

”No, no, it’s a valid question.” Marie whipped out the paper again, scanning it. ”It says here that I am allowed fifteen minutes of privacy after the Maid of the Morning has woken me up. To allow for the courtiers to be ready too. So I suppose it’s a bit like military training. Wake up, do everything I need to do, and then-”

”And then the rest of it is decidedly nothing militaristic.” Fabian couldn’t help laughing. ”Unless powdering your nose is militaristic.”

”Nothing in Marimiers is militaristic,” Marie said. ”From what I’ve gathered out of all these books and letters, it seems to be nothing less than an endless parade of meaningless pomp and people trying to outfight each other for tiny little royal favours. And as crown princess, I get to partake in my little bit of pointlessness.”

At that, Fabian sobered up some. 

”Marie, I’ve said you need to curb your tongue, and I’m serious. You haven’t been saying anything like this to anyone else?”

Marie raised an eyebrow at him. ”Why are you so serious and worried about this?”

”You’ve said it yourself,” Fabian pointed out. ”People fight endlessly for royal favour. Gadilida has never been more peaceful, yes, thanks to border families like ours. On the other hand, that means they have lots of time to plot and plan at court. The Vermillion Court of Marimiers is famous for its political intrigue- one wrong slip of the tongue, and it’s up to the king whether he wants to punish you- and how he wants to punish you. And you’re going to be the sole representative of House Vifort. All those other noble families would love to eat you alive for taking away their chance at of the most coveted spots in the kingdom.”

”Not the sole representative,” Victoria corrected. ”Lord Piers Vifort is a cousin of our lord, I’m sure he will protect Marie.”

”I wouldn’t count on that,” Marie shook her head. ”Papa has told me about him before. He’s a self-serving d**k who wouldn’t spare a thought for family. Probably the reason why he’s the sole Vifort already at Marimiers. Papa didn’t have a very good impression of his wife either.”

Victoria sighed, laid back down onto the grass again, defeated.

”Fantastic. Sounds like a regular nest of vipers.”

—

Marie stared in dismay at the lumbering procession that had come to the castle from the capital, aligning slowly in the front yard to allow for people to start getting out of the stuffy carriages and for chests to be unloaded.

”Remind me again how far it is from the capital on horseback,” she said acidly to Pell, the majordomo. He coughed awkwardly.

”Six days, milady. Four or five if one travels fast and changes horses often.”

”And with a procession of carriages like this?”

”The procession reported twelve days for their journey here, so it is likely to be the same time back to Marimiers.”

”So why is it that instead of going on horseback to Marimiers, with a small, speedy party of Vifort retainers, I must go in an abysmally slow carriage?”

Before Pell could reply, a woman stepped out of the carriage. She was tall, angular and looked like she was utterly carved from stone, and despite the fact that her clothes were the most embroidered, fussy things Marie had ever seen, somehow they looked like they were carved out of some rock too. Marie took a step backwards unconsciously. The majordomo sighed.

”There’s your reason, milady. Her name is Madam Belrac, and she’s to ensure everything is done according to Marimiers’ etiquette before you get there.”

To Marie’s great displeasure, the Marimiers party was to stay at Castle Vifort for five days so Madam Belrac could oversee Marie’s luggage, give her some items from the prince, and ensure that she was not bringing anything ’unwanted’ to Marimiers. What that entailed, Marie could not possibly imagine. 

What on earth did that harpy Belrac think she was going to bring with her? Secret weapons strapped to her body? Poison secreted into various containers? Or revolutionary texts to be spread amongst the commoners perhaps?

Marie hadn’t even been formally introduced to the woman and already the description of what she was here to do irritated her beyond belief.

Sofia could sense her mood quite readily as the family stood in the main hall to welcome the party. 

”Marie, behave,” she whispered, and Marie exhaled sharply.

”I’m not going to disgrace myself off the bat,” she muttered back, and immediately quietened again at a stern look from her mother. 

”Welcome, Madam Belrac, and welcome also to your party.” Lord Gabriel stepped forward with a courtly bow- unusual for him, but Marie supposed this was only his way of showing respect for Marimiers’ customs. ”Castle Vifort is honoured by your presence.”

The curtsey that Madam Belrac lowered herself into was very low, and very precise, almost as if she were an automaton, a series of sharp movements coalesced into a smooth mirage. Beside her, her much younger companion sank into a low and formal curtsey as well, although she looked far more natural doing it.

”The honour is ours, Lord Vifort. It is very kind of you to accomodate us at Castle Vifort while we make preparations for Lady Marie.”

As if they could accomodate a procession from Marimiers anywhere else, Marie thought. 

”Hardly. It is only right that we do so. I’ve heard the journey was long, hopefully not too difficult?”

”Merely long. His Majesty the king provided us with the greatest comfort there could be. I hope Lady Marie will find it suitable when she travels with us back to Marimiers.”

”I wouldn’t worry, Madam Belrac.” Lady Violetta spoke then. ”Marie is used to long hours of horse-riding. It would be a luxurious change for her, I’m sure. Are you tired? Shall we show you to your rooms so you can rest before the evening meal?”

”It would be very kind of you, my lady.”

The woman curtsied that strange Marimiers curtsey again, with her crossed hands coming up to form a fan shape, before rising, and leaving with the servants who had come forward to lead the way for them. Before the woman left however, she turned around to face Marie, and gave her a small smile.

Marie did not return it.

—

”That was such a strange curtsey, don’t you think?” Isabel attempted it, in the privacy of their own rooms later. She tried it out a couple of times, then collapsed laughing. ”I much prefer the way we do it. Just a quick dip of the knees, and a hand over our belly instead of that silly hand gesture.”

Marie smiled reluctantly.

”I don’t suppose they’ll let me get away with our curtseys,” she said, idly playing with an uncut quill. ”I bet they think it’s uncouth.”

”They’ll probably think betting itself is uncouth,” Sofia snarked, from where she was at the opposite end of the room, working on some embroidery. ”That Belrac woman scares me a little, honestly. I wish I could go with you to the palace, just to see that you’re settled in properly.

”’The princess consort may not bring any retinue, nor old belongings that declare her allegiance to her family of birth’,” Marie mimicked one of the books she had been sent on court etiquette in a pinched, stuffy voice. 

”Yes, yes, I know, I’ve been reading some of those books too. I know how ridiculous it all is.” Sofia set down her embroidery, losing interest in it. 

”Does that mean I can’t visit you?” Isabel was suddenly filled with worry, even more so than before. Marie scooped her up and set her on her lap.

”Maybe not at first. But I’ll see you at my wedding, that’s just in three or four months. And you can come once or twice a year after that, if you like. As long as you’re not slacking off on your training.”

”Three or four months is forever,” Isabel said dramatically, flopping backwards with a dire pout.  Marie had to agree. It was forever when she thought about how long that would be until the next time she could see her family. On the other hand, three months felt ridiculously short to a wedding too. 

It was hard to envision herself married, especially not in the famously gilded walls of Marimiers’ chantry. Marie had thought of her wedding day before, of course. She had always imagined herself in traditional Vifort grey, a matrimonial cloak embroidered with the symbols of her house intertwining with some other unnamed house’s draped over her shoulders.

She didn’t know how marriage customs went up north in the capital, but she was quite certain it would be nothing as simple as the ones House Vifort kept.