NOTE: Thanks to all my reviewers.
Lady Taigan: did you really mean to submit the same review five times?
Lady Sandrilene: if you flame every parody and semi-parody, you'll burn out quite soon.
NOTE: Prize if you catch the Measure for Measure allusion. (Not that I can afford any kind of prize, but perhaps I can persuade my good friend the Edreya to donate a serf)
NOTE: I, obviously, don't own these characters or their home.
The Facts of Life
It was a chill, autumn evening. Lady Sandrilene fa Toren sat by the fire in her uncle's study, glad of it's flickering warmth on this cool night. Her embroidery lay in her lap; intermittently, she picked it up to make a few stitches. It was lovely, she thought to herself, to be able to relax and do nothing by stare into the fire. Her uncle would be in momentarily, and he would sit and read reports, occasionally asking her opinion about some detail. It would be a peaceful few hours, as always. With a sigh, Sandry forced herself to pick up her neglected work: if she were to finish it for the charity exhibition, she would have to begin. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't notice her uncle enter.
"Good evening, my dear." The grave voice interrupted her thoughts. The girl sprang to her feet.
"Good evening, Uncle." The duke motioned for his niece to sit. However, the chair he gestured her to was not the one in which she had been lounging. Rather, it was across from his own, on the other side of the great ducal desk. Vedris sat in his usual place, where on an ordinary night, he would review reports from his many subordinates and petitions from his subjects. When she was relatively comfortable, the duke coughed nervously.
"Sandrilene," he began seriously, "It has come to my note that a certain matter must be discussed amongst us."
"What matter, Uncle?" Sandry asked, mentally reviewing everything she had done in the past week for something her guardian would disapprove of.
The duke, as was his habit, did not answer her question. "I would that my lady wife were alive," he said pensively, "but, alas, she has passed from this life." He traced the gods-circle on his chest and bowed his head for a moment. Sandry followed his gesture and waited. It was a very long moment. She couldn't help but let a little sigh of exasperation escape her as the minutes ticked by. It was barely more than an intake and release of breath, but her uncle looked up sharply.
"You show great disreverence, Sandrilene," he chastened, "Can it be that you have no respect for the memory of your Great Aunt?"
"I-" about so say "I did nothing," Sandry stopped, thinking better of it. "I didn't mean any disrespect, Uncle, truly," she said earnestly, "I'm very sorry." If the answer failed to satisfy Vedris, his only sign was a stern look.
"Very well, child," he answered. "Before I was interrupted," he continued, "I had been in the process of explaining to you that I would rest easier if your Aunt were able to take the burden of speaking to you on this subject. As, however, she is no longer with us," he paused once more to make the gods circle. Sandry sat perfectly still through the moment of silence, wondering if she were only imagining that it was nearly twice as long as the first. "I will not shirk my duty." It took Sandry a moment to connect the two parts of his sentence. Even then she was still completely in the dark.
"Pardon me, Uncle," she inquired meekly, "but what are you talking about?"
"There are certain flowers, Sandrilene," the duke went on, apparently ignoring her question, "upon which is resident pollen. Other certain flowers have a receptacle for this pollen."
"I know all this, Uncle," Sandry said, puzzled, "I lived with plant mages for four years."
"Do not interrupt your elders, Sandrilene," Vedris admonished, "this is for your own good."
Sandry rolled her eyes, but was silent.
"The bee," he continued, "alights upon the flower, for the purpose of gaining its nectar. In this process, modica of pollen adhere to his feet and when he makes aviation once more, carry themselves with him. The bee then alights on another flower, where the modica of pollen disadhere from him and bring themselves into the receptacle thereon. In this manner, the flower is made fertile and able to bear fruit. Do you understand, my dear?"
"What I don't understand is why you're telling this to me, Uncle," she replied frankly, "what's the point?"
The duke looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable. Quickly, his face resumed its usual mask of calm. "You are a young lady, Sandrilene. I would not let you out into the world disforewarned as to the ways of men and women."
"Uncle," Sandry said, "you're telling me about flowers." Then it dawned on her. The birds and bees. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "You don't need to do that for me, Uncle."
Vedris went on as if he had not heard. "When I was your age, my dear, no, some years senior, my lord father appointed me to sit as a judge of certain cases. During this period, a girl of your years was brought before me under the charge of fornication."
"What's fornication?" Sandry asked.
"It was most clear to me that she was guilty," her uncle continued, ignoring her question, "but I was moved to pity for her; she gave the appearance of an innocent taken in by what she did not know. Nevertheless, under the law it was obligatory that she be sentenced, and I did not shirk my duty, unpleasant as it was."
"How-" the duke looked at his niece, "How did you know she was guilty?" Sandry asked.
Vedris paused, "The girl wasvisibly with child." Sandry's mind was putting two and two together.
"Uncle," she said, "I don't think you understand. I know how babies are made. I know what happens between a man and a woman-" The duke flinched. "-And I know the consequences. I'm not an ignorant child!"
Her guardian looked severe. "Who gave you this information?"
"Pirsi," Sandry replied, "my nurse."
The duke gasped. "At such an age? What I would do to thatwoman who corrupted my innocent niece!" He exclaimed.
"It didn't corrupt me!" Sandry protested, "I'm perfectly fine!"
"Do not contradict your elders, girl," he ordered between clenched teeth. "Now I understand," he murmured softly. "Now I see the root of your disobedient nature."
"I don't have a disobedient nature!" Sandry complained, "Why don't you ever say anything nice about me, Uncle?"
"Be silent!" he ordered. "You say that your nurse told you of the manner of re-creation in all its lurid detail?" He asked.
"She had my mother's permission," Sandry excused, "and anyway, I don't see what the big deal is. I would have learned it all by now in any case."
"By what means?"
"Everyone know the facts of life, Uncle. I probably know where we come from better than you do. Or not," she said, reconsidering, "you've actually had children." As soon as the words were out, she cursed herself. Now you've really done it, she thought. That's the kind of joke you make with your friends, not your great-uncle.
"I will not tolerate," the duke was saying, "that sort of lewd and vulgar innuendo in anyone, least of all my niece!"
"I'm sorry," Sandry said honestly, "I really shouldn't have said that. It was totally inappropriate."
"That you were thinking it, Sandrilene," Vedris replied icily, "shows you to be or the worst sort of lascivious harlot."
"A lascivious harlot," Sandry couldn't resist coming back with, "would be thinking much worse." Immediately, she regretted her words, particularly, as her uncle's eyes blazed up once more.
"Remove your person from my sight!" He commanded.
"I'm leaving. I'm going for a walk." Her tone was purposely flippant. It annoyed him, as she had know it would
"That you are not." It was more than a statement. Her uncle made it a royal order, that even in this frame of mind Sandry was in no mood to disobey. "You shall not leave the citadel until I have personally dealt with you. Tonight, however, more important matter demand my attention." He turned to the first report on his desk.
Sandry paused for a moment at the door. "You may leave." The duke's dismissal was icy.
"I'll be in my room then." She left, not slamming the door in her wake, but closing it very forcefully. Vedris IV, ruler of all Emelan, sighed, then turned back to his work.