A queen could marry once she'd taken the crown.
That was the law that had been in place for many generations. It had been many years since the marriage choices of a Queen had been left up to councils and groups of smelly old men. That didn't change the fact that Marisa's choices were, in her opinion, horrifically limited.
She wasn't just the Queen, after all. She was a politician, she was a soldier, she was the kind of ruler her people hadn't seen in more than a few generations. They loved her desperately, but that had its disadvantages. Mostly that her people, the ones who loved her, also thought they knew what was best for her. While other women her age had one, maybe two Grandmothers to contend with in their search for a husband, Marisa had all of them, every elderly person in the land presumed to know just the right man for the job.
Iago was quite different.
"So, how goes the search for a suitor?"
He'd waited until they were in her carriage with only his apprentice for company, his dour professionalism melting away into a teasing smile. Iago was as old as sin and twice as ubiquitous. The elderly ambassador consistently knew more about her life than she did, despite being out of the country on diplomatic business every other week.
"Absolutely abysmal." She slouched in her seat, blowing her lips out like a horse. "Everyone had ideas and none of them are good."
"None of them? That is something."
"Well there's the Thorstein brothers, who are still tied to their Mother's apron strings. Or rather, chained to her wrist like puppies," Marisa sighed, "because it's not as though that Lady's ever worn an apron in her life."
Iago chuckled, his face pinching in the kind of wicked glee that only the elderly seems to get from gossip. His apprentice raised his bright blue eyes for the first time since the conversation began, his gaze a little shocked at his master's informality.
"The Cabbots, Carters and Valinums are the same."
"Weren't you quite taken with one of the Rangers of the Northern Wood last time we spoke?"
"Yes," Marisa muttered, mouth twisting into a frown.
"What happened?"
"Vow of celibacy."
"You're joking!" the old man exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "The Rangers take a vow of celibacy? I thought they were simply solitary by nature."
"I'm afraid not. I found that out the hard way."
"You have plenty of knights in your employ. Why not pick one of them?"
"They're soldiers! They fight in wars for me. How could I ever send my husband into battle? How could I expect a soldier that is so beholden to me to make the choice to fight? No knights." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, I can't just pick anyone. They'll be targeted by the newspapers for ages, and I can't drop that sort of scrutiny on anyone."
"It sounds like you're making this more difficult than it has to be, my Queen." Iago answered evenly, his tone cautious. They had a long relationship, but he was always careful when he spoke to her. Even so, his apprentice shifted nervously in his seat, his gaze flickering from his Master to the Queen he had so easily rebuked.
"Well, the whole thing can sod off." She muttered irritably. "Why is everyone in such a rush, anyway?"
"Well," Iago sighed. "Everyone loves a royal wedding, Majesty. Not to mention royal babies."
Marisa pursed her lips.
"I have six younger sisters, Ambassador. I don't imagine there will be any shortage of royal babies running about in a few years' time."
Her assertion startled a small laugh out of the ambassador's apprentice, which he quickly hid in a cough. Iago's eyebrows floated up toward his hairline, and he fixed her with a knowing look.
"That's not quite the same, your Majesty."
Marisa knew he was right, though she didn't want to admit it, so she simply turned to glare out the window.
"Would you like my assistance?" Iago asked after a beat of silence.
It was Marisa's turn to look surprised.
"You?"
"Do any of your advisors know your tastes better than I, my Queen?"
"Of course not," she laughed, signing "but I'm certain you have better things to do, don't you, ambassador?"
"On the contrary," he answered with a humble bow of his head, "I have some free time this week before I return overseas. It is my pleasure to assist you in your search for a husband, your Majesty."
Marisa opened her mouth, but snapped it shut again when the only words that came to mind were 'But you're old!'
"Does Majesty have anything to lose?"
Marisa sighed.
"I suppose not."
"Excellent. Jonas and I will make some arrangement and report back to you tomorrow."
The mention of his name made the apprentice jump to attention in his seat and stare at his Master in confusion.
"Me, Sir?"
"Yes you, Jonas. You know what a young Lady likes, don't you?"
"Well..." Jonas sputtered, one hand coming up to rub nervously through his pale blond curls, "I'd argue not, actually, Sir, since I haven't actually-
"Oh, nonsense. It will be fine. Just wait and see."
***
Jonas came to her first.
"The Ambassador has arranged for you to have dinner with a suitor, your majesty."
"Dinner? With who?" She was surprised when Jonas winced at her words.
"Ah, well..."
"Spit it out."
"The Ambassador has expressed a preference that you not be told who the suitor will be beforehand, Majesty."
The young man was built like a brick house, but he still looked like he might faint after saying 'no' to his Queen. Marisa scoffed loudly.
"What in the hell is he thinking?"
"I really don't know, Majesty." Jonas answered, his words tumbling from his mouth in a mad rush of explanation. "I don't. I would gladly tell you, of course, but the Ambassador hasn't actually told me himself, and-"
"It's fine." Marisa cut him off, worried that if he let him continue he would pass out. He was already growing pale.
"It is?"
"Yes. I'll have a talk with your Master later, but I'll go on this date first. When?"
"Tomorrow night, Majesty."
At that moment all Marisa could do was wonder what she'd gotten herself into.
***
Her date with Iago's first choice was predictably terrible. She could understand why he'd insisted on it being a blind date, because the young man in question was none other than one of the Thorstein brothers.
Admittedly her complaints during their carriage ride had been directed at the eldest two specifically. Their youngest brother Armond was known to be the rebel of the family, putting him in the running for Iago's little matchmaking game.
The plan might have worked if Armond didn't speak of his domineering mother the way most men spoke of recently ex-lovers. Full of arrogance and petty anger, the conversation during their meal had been entirely dominated by stories of Lady Thorstein and her iron fist. The effect was hardly pleasing.
Jonas was waiting for her in the front room of her quarters when she returned.
"Will your Master be joining us to explain himself?" She asked him curtly as the guard shut the door behind her.
The young man flushed, struggling helplessly under her hard gaze.
"I'm afraid not, Majesty. He's sent me in to do it for him."
"Well then, you ought to find a Master who cares more for your well-being."
She was surprised to see a lopsided smile sneak across the apprentice's face.
"Oh, he's not so bad, my Master. He thought Majesty might like young Lord Armond because he's a little bit of a black sheep, and he wouldn't be shy of the gossip involved in courting your Majesty."
It was the longest string of words that Marisa had ever heard from the young man. She found her initial anger abating under the warmth of his smile, unable to stay mad at a young man who was simply following his Master's orders.
"No," she sighed, spinning to fall back into a cushioned armchair. "I don't suppose he would. Then he could tell the whole damn kingdom how mean his Mummy is."
A snort from across the room. Jonas was still standing at attention near the door, his face twisted in an effort to hold back laughter.
"It's a joke, Jonas. You're allowed to laugh at my jokes."
He did chuckle then, and smile more freely.
"Yes Majesty," he told her, bending into a deep bow.
As he turned to leave, she couldn't help but steal a peek at his behind.
***
The next date was only a few days later, announced once again by the arrival of Jonas. The young man was wearing what were undoubtedly the finest clothes he owned, his hair slicked back and his cheeks flushed.
The royal ball that evening would include for foreign dignitaries than Marisa knew by name, so she'd suspected that this would be Iago's next move. The old ambassador would know each and every person at the party, making it easy for him to single one out for his Queen.
She took a moment to enjoy the sight of Jonas in his finery before addressing him.
"I suppose your Master's found the perfect man for me, hasn't he?"
Jonas flushed, aiming a shy smile her way.
"He certainly thinks so, my Queen."
"Well," she sighed, pushing herself to her feet, "do I get to know this one?"
"I'm afraid not, Majesty."
"Do you know?"
