Request

[lesser_son]

Melou's education as far as reading and writing stopped when he was on the young side, and you've got to take medieval spellings into account anyway. But the notice he tacks up is mostly readable, if you take a few moments to study it really good and hard.

It says, plainly printed:

I WOD SEKE A PRYSTE TO MARRIE A LADY TO-GETHYR WYTHE A MANN.

Comments

[sissy_queen]

Queen Guinevere (!) will show up, and peer at the sign with curiosity. She will read it, slowly and painfully, and then look... and find a very Modred-looking Melou.

"Are you Sir Melou, perchance?"

[lesser_son]

He nods, shyly, and then gazes at her more closely. "Are you--are you the Queen, lady?"

[sissy_queen]

Oh, Melou. That's a nice change, no-one ever picks that detail up !

She inclines her head, smiling shyly. She is just a year older than he, after all.

"Aye I am," she says, timidly. "Pray receive my congratulations, Sir."

[lesser_son]

He recognises that--and recognises that, with the war over, he has no quarrel with her--and, being a good boy, he bows to her. "Thank you, your majesty."

[sissy_queen]

"T'is nothing one would not do," she says warmly.

She doesn't know who's son he is. To her, he's just another knight, one of those she can't quite place, thanks to screwy memories.

"Who is the lucky bride-to-be?"

[lesser_son]

"Miranda, of Milan, your majesty."

[sissy_queen]

"A noble girl, then. A wise choice. Have her parents and yours given their consent, then?"

[lesser_son]

Uhhhhhhh.

"She hath no parents, and mine--"

[sissy_queen]

"And yours?" Head tilted to the side, listening.

She's really got no clue what can of worms this is.

[lesser_son]

"My lord doth not think I am of an age."

[sissy_queen]

She tilts her head, frowns.

"But alas, we are not so far in age, you and I, and the king had me but two years gone."

This makes no sense to her.

[lesser_son]

It doesn't make sense to Melou, either, darnit! He is totally old enough to get married!

"I think," he ventures, "it is because he was not happily wedded."

[sissy_queen]

"Oh?" she tilts her head to the side. "Pray tell, who is your lord?"

[lesser_son]

"Sir Mordred of Orkney, your majesty."

[sissy_queen]

"Oh." A pause. She knows who Mordred is - much to her distress, because it makes no sense at all - she shouldn't - he wasn't born when she was 18.

"That would make me your great-aunt."

That's just weeeeeird, he's her age !!!

[lesser_son]

He blinks. "--Ay. Ay."