America paced back and forth behind Maxon's closed office doors as they waited for Stavros to arrive. She was wringing her hands together, running the wording of the amendment through her mind over and over, and still mouthing the word 'shall' every time she got to it. Maxon, on the other hand, seemed much more at ease, hands in his pockets, leaning back against his desk, watching her with great amusement on his face.
"You've learned a few bad habits from me, my dear." he said.
"Like what?" she paused, surprised that he was choosing this moment to criticize her.
"Pacing, for a start." he smiled, affectionately. "And I've never seen your brow furrowed quite so much as it has been this week."
America nodded and stilled her feet, coming over to the desk to lean next to him, trying to mirror Maxon's pose instead. She was hoping it might help her find the composure he seemed to have in spades. She pressed her hands to her dress and smoothed out the wrinkles. "This is important, that's all. I want this Maxon, I really want this. And you know how grumpy I can become when I don't get what I want."
"I certainly do." he smiled. "But take a deep breath for me, my love. Nothing is going to be decided today. This is the most preliminary of meetings, remember?"
America remembered. "He'll laugh at us, then get angry at us… then…"
"Then shut down the meeting in a fit of frustration, most likely." Maxon nodded. "Then he'll toss and turn for the next few nights, maybe longer if it's a really difficult decision for him… and then he'll come back to us."
America sighed. "Why does it have to be so hard?"
"I suspect, if it were easy, you'd have significantly less interest in it." Maxon said, eyes glittering with amusement.
She cast him a contemptuous glance, "Be serious."
So he stood upright and turned to face her, placing a hand on each of her upper arms. "It's hard, because if it were easy, it wouldn't be worthy of you. Officially instituting this amendment would be a significant accomplishment, and significant accomplishments don't ever come cheaply. They will all cost you. They will all be hard. But I'm proud of you, America. You're an amazing woman, capable of great things, and if the fights you were picking were easy then you wouldn't be living up to your full potential as queen. As it stands, I know this country is getting everything it deserves from you because, at the end of every day, I get to hear about the battles you're waging and how hard you're fighting for my Kingdom. And I love you for it." He planted a firm kiss on her forehead.
America smiled back at him, appreciatively. Sometimes she still needed Maxon to remind her just how extraordinary she was.
"You didn't know you were marrying a crusader, did you, Max?" America teased, placing her hands on his hips, still smiling.
But he peered into her blue eyes lovingly, and his reply came without a trace of humor. "I knew." he said seriously, and then he pulled her in for a long kiss.
There was a firm knocking on the door and America felt her stomach swoop as Maxon pulled his lips off of hers. "Take a breath." he whispered. America did so. "Stand up straight." he reminded her, and she threw her shoulders back. He dropped his hands from her body and straightened his tie, facing the door and drawing himself to his full height. "Come in." he called, in his most authoritative voice.
The guards posted at either side of Maxon's office opened the doors and Stavros took three steps into the room before falling into a deep bow. "Your Majesties." he greeted, without moving. The doors behind him closed.
"Thank you for coming, Stavros." Maxon said, picking up from off of his desk a stiff black folder with the crest of Illéa printed in silver ink on the front. America knew it held the draft of their little amendment. Maxon moved to a set of settees facing each other over a handsome, rich brown coffee table next to the empty fireplace across the room and said, "Please take a seat."
Now that Stavros had been addressed directly, he straightened up from the bow and followed Maxon to the settees. They both stood there, waiting. America, as the lady in the room, would be the first to sit down. So far, this was exactly like America and Maxon had practiced.
"I'll ring for tea." America announced, and pressed the button that called for maid service. Mary knew to be on standby with a full tray of tea and cakes, and was waiting just down the hall. America crossed the room to Maxon's side, turned to face Stavros, and then took her seat. Maxon followed, then Stavros. It was all incredibly by-the-book.
"May I ask what your Majesty has called this meeting to discuss?" Stavros began, to Maxon.
"As you know," Maxon replied, his King voice several notes deeper than his Maxon voice, "the Queen and I are beginning to make preparations for the conception of a royal heir. As my chief adviser, I have asked you here today to discuss the laws of inheritance with us."
Stavros had not been expecting this. He blinked, a minuscule pause that spoke volumes. "The laws of inheritance? Certainly, as your Majesty commands. But, surely, the laws are fairly straightforward?"
"This is merely a discussion Queen America and I wanted to have before proceeding." Maxon deftly almost-lied. This was a discussion they'd wanted to have before proceeding, but there was nothing 'mere' about it.
"Of course." Stavros said, but he was still suspicious. He had every right to be, America reflected, as Mary knocked once and then walked in with the tray, effectively putting the meeting on pause.
America had, perhaps a bit tyrannically, personally overseen the assembly of this tea tray. It was one of the very last details that she could control, and though it likely wouldn't make a bit of difference to the outcome of this meeting, she hadn't been able to stop herself. "Thank you, Mary, that's all." America said, and Mary fell into a curtsey before letting herself out. "Tea, gentlemen?"
"Thank you, your Majesty." Stavros accepted. Whether he wanted it or not, he was not in a position to refuse tea with the Queen.
America poured out, passing Maxon his tea without a hint of sugar in it. There was a comforting familiarity about knowing, by heart, the way her husband took his tea. Even if they were in this intimidating, nerve-wracking meeting, and performing in their official capacities as the King and Queen of Illéa, somewhere inside, he was still her Maxon. And she knew exactly how he liked his tea.
When they all had their cups of tea and plates of cakes before them, the meeting continued.
"Stavros," Maxon said, authoritatively, "As an expert on the laws governing Illéa, would you give Her Royal Majesty the Queen and myself your considered opinion on the laws of inheritance?"
"My opinion, your Majesty?" Stavros clarified, eyes narrowing. Maxon hadn't asked for a recitation or a summarization. He'd asked for an opinion, and alarm bells were clearly ringing in Stavros' sharp mind.
"Certainly." Maxon nodded, unflinching.
Stavros took a breath, weighing his words in his mind, "The laws of inheritance are strong pillars of the monarchy, your majesty, a testament to Gregory Illéa's great wisdom and foresight. Since the forming of our proud nation, the laws of inheritance have ushered in a peaceful transition of power, via an unbroken line of Kings descended from Gregory Illéa himself, without fail or falter. It is because of the laws of inheritance that your transition into power was so seamless, and the laws of inheritance will protect your children, grandchildren, and their progeny for the rest of time."
America and Maxon shared a quick, nervous glance. She had a hard time imagining how exactly to proceed from this overly exalted view Stavros had just shared. It wasn't like she could just pipe up and say, 'So, how's about we give these strong pillars of our monarchy a good whack with the feminism stick, eh?'
"Brilliant observation, Stavros." Maxon nodded, sipping from his cup, and Stavros blushed ever so slightly at the praise. "I do want my children well-protected. A specific concern of mine is the matrimonial alliances clause, which incorporates into a princess' duty to her country, the necessity of marrying an ally of Illéa."
"It is much to ask, to be sure." Stavros tried to be sympathetic, but his tone came out mostly cautious. "We ask much of our sovereigns, and you can rest assured that Illéa is grateful for your sacrifices." It sounded like a thanks, but it was really a deft dodge of the issue at hand. Stavros had been playing this game longer than either America or Maxon had been alive. Of course he could outplay them.
"I wonder, Stavros," America finally spoke, "if this clause is not painfully outdated. As necessary as it was to solidify Gregory Illéa's creation of and ascension to the throne, we have advanced by leaps and bounds as a people. Surely it would be a show of great progress and modernity to change our views on the matrimonial alliances clause?"
"Need I remind your Majesty of how our young country still needs alliances?"
Maxon spoke, "We certainly need our allies, as staunch and close as we can have them. But, Stavros, it occurs to me that we have new methods of obtaining alliances now. Our recent alliance with Italy was negotiated and amicably agreed upon without the necessity of offering them a daughter of Illéa."
"Not entirely, your Majesty." Stavros objected. "As you will recall, their stipulation upon entering those negotiations was that you would marry then Lady America. A similar alliance with the then Northern Rebels was initiated through the same means. That is a form of matrimonial alliance, if not a conventional one. Marriage bonds are still the surest means of affirming a political alliance."
The conversation fell to silence. America sipped her tea, butterflies seizing her stomach. These were her future children they were discussing, not pawns on a chessboard. Stavros didn't see it that way, it was his job to look at the governing of this Kingdom as one big game of strategy. This was what they paid him for, Maxon had reminded America the previous night as they'd practiced this meeting yet again.
"Stavros," Maxon finally said, clearing his throat and setting his tea cup aside, "I want to be very direct with you. America and I will not be trading our daughters for political purposes. In our eyes, our daughters will be equals with our sons, and we would like that reflected in the laws of Illéa so that, as you said, our children, grandchildren, and their progeny will be protected."
America was not expecting the grin that split Stavros' face at this. The rough, entirely condescending chuckle that rattled his broad chest. "Your Majesty, that would require amending the laws of inheritance." he said it as if America and Maxon were two children who could not possibly understand the grownup world around them. If it wasn't for the dangerous glint behind his eyes, America might have thought that he found them both adorably misguided.
But Maxon just nodded, curtly. He was not thrown off by Stavros' reaction, in fact, this was exactly what Maxon had predicted. Laughter. "That is what we are proposing. We would like to amend the laws of inheritance."
The smile fell from Stavros' face in a heartbeat. He set his cup aside, too, with an air of great gravity. "I'm afraid that would be unwise, your Majesty."
"Why so?" America asked.
"The people of Illéa view arranged marriages as part of the princess' royal responsibilities. One cannot have the privilege of being princess without the responsibility it entails."
"I don't believe the people think that way anymore, Stavros." America said, boldly. "I know them rather well, having been one of them, myself, only four years ago. The people I knew saw the bartering of our women as barbaric. And our international allies agree."
Stavros' grey eyes went steely. This time, anger flashed behind them. "What do you mean by that, your Majesty?"
America thought this news would be better coming from Maxon, and he seemed to read her mind. He replied, "Italy is prepared to publicly support an amendment to the laws of inheritance that would erase the distinctions between male and female children of the King. For that matter, so are our fervent supporters, England." Maxon and America had had a tremendously successful group call with the King and Queen of England earlier that week, and in addition to being regaled with historical precedent for extremely successful hereditary queens, Maxon and America were subtly promised complete public support for any potential policy shifts reflecting acceptance of women as heirs.
"Swendway would be greatly offended, your Majesty. Katherine Illéa's union with Emil de Monpezat was the inspiration for the clause, they view it as their close tie to Illéa memorialized in our foundations. To eradicate that would be highly unwise." Stavros reminded Maxon.
"Our cousins in Swendway will understand that we are moving forward into a new era, one which will ensure prosperity for both of our nations, as well as all of our children, male and female." Maxon replied, smoothly.
Stavros simply shook his head slowly. "There are ways to keep your daughters in Illéa, even to allow them the opportunity to marry for love, that need not be affirmed in the laws of the land."
"The only way to guarantee their protection," America objected, "Is to set it in stone. Let there be no confusion, not by anyone, anywhere. Our daughters will devote their lives to Illéa, and by extension, its allies; but they will be afforded the same freedoms we offer our sons. That will not be infringed upon on the basis of their gender."
Stavros frowned and leant back into the cushy settee, looking back and forth between America and Maxon. There was definite anger in his voice this time. "What you are suggesting, an equalizer, would have the force and effect of putting a girl on the throne of Illéa, if she was born first. Do you realize that? To banish away the distinctions between princes and princesses would mean that a girl could be orchestrating wars, levying taxes, and determining social policy for an entire generation."
America's eyes narrowed and glinted, "Girls and boys are not permitted to rule countries, Stavros, that's what regents are for. The law clearly states that the heir to the throne does not ascend until he or, in the event there is only one child and she is a female, she is in his or her twenties. So what we are talking about here is a woman on the throne. A woman orchestrating wars, levying taxes, and determining social policy for an entire generation. Do you have some evidence to suggest that a Queen is any less capable of successfully managing these tasks than a King may be?"
"Certainly not." Stavros backpedaled quickly, even bowing his head slightly in deference to America, "But, your Majesty, you must understand… it is not the done thing."
Not the done thing.
That's exactly what Maxon had said the first time America brought up this change in the safe room three weeks before.
"Oh, but it is." America disagreed. "Women have been ascending to thrones and successfully ruling countries for all of recorded history. Empress Matilda, the daughter of Henry the first of England successfully held her ground during a brutal civil war and even counseled her son, Henry II, once he ascended the contested throne." America was grateful, then, for their allies in England. The English had great universities, which meant they still had access to books, many of them full of history. They could remember events like this, and learn from them. "Elizabeth the First of England—"
"Your Majesty, if I may interrupt, I understand what you are trying to illustrate and your point is well taken." Stavros said, impatiently. "But, with all due respect, the people don't know about the Empress Matilda, nor Elizabeth the First. The people will not understand this change in royal duties, and will not trust it. They won't support a woman ascending their throne, not if there is a perfectly healthy man waiting in line behind her."
"I believe they would support any child of Maxon's." America said, defiantly. "They love him."
"Yes, his Majesty is well loved by many of his people," Stavros nodded, "but there is a limit, Queen America. He is instituting changes faster than many of them can keep up, and there is only so far that they will trust him before calling into question his judgement. At some point there will be a straw to break the camel's back, and this could very well be it. The last thing we need right now is to call into question the laws dictating succession."
"Why shouldn't we update the laws, Stavros?" Maxon asked. "We are a strong and independent nation now."
Stavros collected his thoughts. "First, as I mentioned, your Majesty, we need allies. The New Asians will be expecting first pick—"
"First pick?" America's eyebrows flew up her forehead. "I'm sorry, but there is no way I am shipping them their pick of my daughters."
"Your Majesty—" Stavros objected.
"Never." America said, forcefully, and Stavros swallowed the rest of his objection with a frustrated huff.
"Then we are treading dangerous ground with Swendway and the New Asians." Stavros declared. "But even more importantly, King Maxon, you derive your power from a consensus of the people. You are their sovereign because they allow you to be. You are not, as past monarchies were, 'chosen by God' to rule Illéa, you claim no divine right to rule. If you call into question your son's right to rule over your daughter's, then you call into question your right to rule over just about anyone else's. If the laws governing succession are seen as wishy-washy, then why are you allowed to rule at all? Why not someone else? Why even a monarchy, for that matter?"
"Stavros, if my people don't want me on the throne, I have no business being there." Maxon said, objectively.
"Noble, your Majesty, but wrong-headed. Your presence on this throne means stability and peace for the country. If you were to step down or lend credence to the anti-monarchists, there would be nothing short of a civil war to determine the fate of Illéa. Thousands upon thousands would die, Illéans slaying other Illéans on Illéan soil, worse than the New Asian war ever was. More costly, in terms of lives and resources. Illéa needs you on this throne, King Maxon."
America gulped. She and Maxon had not discussed that this amendment could lead to an Illéan civil war. She took a deep breath, "I don't believe that amending the laws of inheritance would lead to an attempt to end Maxon's reign. Maxon is a strong leader, he is fair and generous and if the people of Illéa had a room full of 35 men to select their future king from, they would choose Maxon every time." America said, fiercely. "Maxon is a great king, and nothing small like an amendment to a law could threaten his mighty reign." She wondered if she hadn't overdone it slightly with the last part, but one look at Maxon told her she'd done it perfectly. He was gazing at her with amazement, surprise, and a little bit of embarrassment. She'd made him blush, in the middle of a session with one of his royal advisers. She smiled just a little bit at her power.
"Perhaps you have a point, Queen America," Stavros said, still shaking his head. "Those opinions can be tested in polls and research, perhaps the people would not question King Maxon, nor his reign. But even so, a daughter? A daughter, growing up before the people's eyes, training in the arts of military and diplomacy and finance?"
"Yes, Stavros?" America asked, daring him to say that a woman couldn't master those arts.
Stavros wasn't going to fall for that trap. "Illéa needs strong, commanding leadership right now. They will not seek to find that in a young princess clad in dresses."
"Then she'll wear pants." America said, through clenched teeth.
"That's not the point."
"Isn't it?" America asked. "Isn't your point that women are too delicate to handle the jobs historically associated with the King of Illéa?"
"No." Stavros said, challengingly. "My point is that they don't look it. A princess won't look powerful enough to the people, and the people's confidence is where the monarchy derives its authority. That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"So this is a simple matter of aesthetics?" America asked, stunned.
"Of course it is." Stavros said. "Almost everything you do as Queen involves aesthetics, your Majesty, you of all people should know their importance." America felt as if she was being chastised by a disappointed school teacher. "Think of the Selection, for example. By granting princesses the same privileges and responsibilities as princes, you would be setting Illéa up for the potential of a Selection featuring one girl dating thirty-five men."
America blinked. "Yes?"
"One girl dating and kissing, posing flirtatiously with, cosying up to thirty five young men." Stavros repeated.
America didn't understand, but Maxon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well?" America asked, annoyed that she was the only one missing the problem.
Stavros breathed deeply through his nose and closed his eyes, unable to believe that he had to spell it out for her, "Think of how it would look."
"How it would look?" America asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
"It's… unseemly for a lady to carry on with so many gentlemen—"
"Oh my God!" America said, realization striking her heart like a hot poker.
"America—" Maxon warned, but she barely heard him.
"Unseemly?" America demanded of Stavros, "You mean slutty." She leapt to standing in a fit of rage and due to protocol, Stavros was forced to stand with her.
"Your Majesty, I would never!" Stavros defended.
She did not even hear him. America was pacing back and forth between the settees, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating wildly. "So it's perfectly fine for a young man to cavort with 35 women at once because he's demonstrating leadership and carefully choosing the next Queen of Illéa? But when it's a woman dating 35 men at once, she's just a slut?!"
"America, that's enough." Maxon said, firmly. "Sit back down."
She wanted to throw the nearest lamp right at Stavros' head. Instead, she clamped her mouth closed and practically flopped back into her seat, audibly huffing as she did so. She glared daggers at Stavros and hoped they'd frighten him a little.
"I apologize for offending your Majesty," Stavros said, retaking his seat, "But it had to be said. Perception is everything to this monarchy." Stavros looked between the two reigning monarchs with a frustrated frown. America got the distinct impression that he was about to assign them both detention. "Perhaps it would be wise to end this meeting here, for today?"
"Thank you, Stavros." Maxon said, and America could have strangled her husband right then and there. Murdered him with her own two hands. Thank you? For being the worlds most offensive sexist? "Queen America and I have drafted a potential amendment that we would like for you to take with you when you go. It is for your eyes only, obviously. Your feedback would be most welcome."
"Of course, your Majesty."
"And I would like for you to have the researchers put a poll in the field. Something about whether or not the people would embrace a change that would equate princes and princesses, they can sort out the exact wording."
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Poll from all of the castes, not just the top four. Poll all over the country. I want opinion research, too. What would people actually think about a princess taking over for me, about an all male selection, about all of it. If this is a battle that can be won through public opinion, then let's win it, Stavros. For my girls."
"Yes, your Majesty." Stavros nodded, but he was not convinced. He was only being deferent.
Maxon stood, and Stavros followed. America stood as well, and stepped back. Maxon passed Stavros the black, crested folder which contained the amendment. "Thank you for your time and your careful consideration, Stavros, as well as for your discretion." Maxon escorted Stavros to the door. "Be in touch soon with your thoughts and the research findings?" Maxon requested.
"Of course, your Majesty." Stavros said, then he turned and bowed to America, then bowed a little deeper towards Maxon, and then he left the room.
Maxon closed the door firmly, then turned to look at America all the way on the other side of the room from him. America wondered if he wanted her to say that she was sorry for losing her famous temper, but before she could refuse to apologize for her indignation, Maxon said, "I know. It's awful." He sighed and leant back against the door, "You did very well, America."
"No, I didn't." America shook her head. "You're saying that to make me feel better for rightfully losing my temper with Stavros."
"I'm not." Maxon shook his head, opening his arms to her. It was a long walk to get to those arms, but it was worth the journey when he wrapped her in a tight embrace. "You made very valid, well-reasoned points. Even your outrage at the Selection thing was rational… if not exactly professional in its critique."
America sighed with relief and felt herself melting into Maxon's embrace. "Do you think he'll come around? Advise us to go forward with the law?"
"I don't know." Maxon said into her hair. "I think it depends on what those opinion polls turn up. If you know the people as well as you think you do, then maybe he will. Maybe they'll say, 'We don't care what you do! We're too busy with our own lives! Just live and be happy!' and Stavros will come skipping back in here with an official amendment for me to sign."
America laughed a little at this, and so did Maxon. "Thank you, Maxon."
"For?"
"Believing in this as strongly as I do." she said, earnestly.
Maxon pressed a kiss to her hair in reply and then pulled back, "Did you mean what you said earlier?"
"Which part?"
"About my being a strong leader, and fair, and generous, and much too powerful for some stupid amendment to bring me down?"
"Of course I did!" America smiled, looking up at him.
Maxon sniffed a little, looking into her eyes, "You have no idea how much it means to me, to hear you say that."
"Why? I tell you how wonderful you are all the time."
"But in front of Stavros?" Maxon shook his head and swallowed heavily. "All my father ever said about me in front of Stavros was that I was weak. It was his biggest complaint, actually, how weak I was. No one ever called me 'strong' before you."
America placed a hand on Maxon's cheek and stroked his cheek bone with her thumb, "You are strong, Maxon. You are strong and smart and dedicated, you are kind and loving and funny. For some reason or another, your father was blind to all of that." Maxon's eyes fell from hers and she leant even closer to recapture them. "It was his loss, Maxon. It was his loss. You are a good man, and a good husband. And you are a great king. And I love you."
She was sure he would have said 'I love you, too', if his mouth hadn't been so busy capturing hers.