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Emperor Varis zos Galvus is… frustrated.
When he'd come of age, his father had paraded before him a group of noble, unmarried women, and Varis had done his duty and picked one of them. They'd married, she'd bore him a son, and he'd set her up in comfort in her own estate once the boy was old enough to be parted from her.
He'd ensured the line of succession, as all royalty must.
And yet… his son is over the age of majority now, and has not taken any of the increasingly less subtle hints Varis has given him. He has introduced him to every eligible woman who has been in the capital over the past few years, some more than once, and he's gone through a large chunk of the men who have displayed any interest in other men.
He'd extended his range up farther than his original plans, and he'd continued to introduce new options as they came of age.
But this is getting ridiculous. Bad enough before, but now that the Warrior of Light has defected to Garlemald and proven themselves to be extremely competent both on and off the battlefield, Varis' son has no interest in even the perfunctory meetings anymore.
The Emperor is getting desperate, and maybe that's why he makes his last ditch effort.
He grits his teeth and writes a letter to the First Medicus of the Third Company's First Platoon, part of the XIVth Legion's First Cohor, and requests that he release his third medicus to the imperial city, effective immediately.
Done this way, he's sure the prince will follow.
–
The Warrior of Light has barely taken two steps into Varis' main office when Zenos comes stomping in after them.
"I was promised no further meddling in my legion," Zenos hisses.
"I made no such promise, and I have frequently meddled in your legion," Varis says, without bothering to look up from the letter he's finishing up. "And you ignored my last few summons, so I had to resort to… other methods."
He looks up now, just in time to see the Warrior's bemused face.
"Warrior of Light. You are being reassigned to the First Legion, temporarily," he says, and sees both of them flinch back.
"Temporarily… until when?" they wonder, glancing up at Zenos.
"Until such time as my son announces his engagement," Varis continues.
Zenos draws himself up to his full height, a dark scowl on his face. "I have had enough of the simpering men and women of your court," he replies, one hand going to his sword.
"Do you wish to immerse yourself in politics?" the emperor asks.
Zenos' expression continues to be stony and angry, but the Warrior of Light's frown has softened into a more considering look, and their eyebrows draw together after another moment before their frown deepens again.
"You know the answer remains a clear no," his son replies.
"Then you will need someone at your side to handle the politics. I expect you to find someone within the year, though I or my advisors would be… delighted to offer you help, should you need it."
"Someone with an eye for politics," the Warrior of Light muses, before Zenos can argue further, and now their mien is definitely calculating. "And, perhaps, someone who could defend themselves, since you'd likely be handling all sorts of disputes across the entire empire. Someone who doesn't have enough Garlean connections to plot a coup, or who has no family to bait them into such."
Varis is starting to get a bad feeling.
Zenos is still scowling.
The Warrior taps a finger against their chin, turning their gaze up to the ceiling. "Ideally, someone who could bear you an heir, but adoption is legal and the Emperors of Garlemald theoretically are allowed to choose their own heir. Perhaps someone with standing in your allied nations - an adopted child of a count of Ishgard, perhaps, or–"
"I will not stomach marriage to a pompous shield-wearing noble," Zenos interrupts.
"Or," they continue over their legatus, "a blooded warrior of the Steppe, perhaps."
"Sadu Khatun has frequently expressed her disinterest in men," the prince points out.
Varis rolls his eyes. "Would that there was a person who was both a count's adopted child and a blooded warrior of the Steppe," he replies, at his most sarcastic. "And one you could stand, at that."
Zenos' eyes narrow, and then widen again, and then settle on a narrow glare, but no words emerge from his mouth.
"Are you saying you would support such a person, if your son were to court them?" the Warrior of Light wonders, tilting their head.
"I have given up on my son displaying romantic interest in anyone," Varis informs them, tapping a finger on the desk. "But I have not given up on a marriage. For stability, a prince must have a consort, whether or not that consort would be able to take the throne."
"Which I would not be able to do, on account of me not being Garlean by birth," they cut in.
"Which saves us from the question of a legal coup," Varis continues. "So when I inevitably get murdered– by my cousin or my grandfather or my son, most likely– then someone will be able to handle the day-to-day running of the Empire. Which is important to me," he concludes, matching his son glare for glare.
"So… I'm not being transferred to the First Legion?" the Warrior of Light checks.
"I have the paperwork right here," Varis threatens, not taking his eyes off Zenos. "What will it be?"
Zenos' scowl deepens. "We're not having a fancy party."
"You will have a fancy party. It's important for political reasons," Varis corrects.
"I won't plan anything," his son threatens.
"That's what your new spouse will be for," Varis points out.
"I have no interest in ruling your empire," Zenos tries next.
"Again, spouse," the emperor replies.
He hadn't come into this intending for the Warrior of Light to be the spouse in question, but the more he considers it, the more he likes it.
Underneath the paperwork to transfer the Warrior of Light to his own legion, there's a list of names. Various nobles, most of whom have already met and been dismissed by Zenos. Politically-minded, not too ambitious, but smart enough to keep up with the prince, and athletic enough to give him a bit of a fight, perhaps.
None of them would hold a candle to the Warrior of Light agreeing to a proposal. The reaction from Eorzea alone will be worth every angry duke and marquis parent he'll have to soothe when the news comes out.
Zenos is silent for a long moment, considering him.
"You don't have to," the Warrior of Light says finally. "I'm all for a marriage of convenience, but I'm also happy to help you scout out better options if you want someone you can actually fuck."
Varis doesn't want to know.
"No," Zenos says finally. "A marriage of convenience will work perfectly. I will leave you to plan the details," he decides, and sweeps out of the room.
Their would-be spouse makes an aborted step towards the door as if to follow, and then shakes their head and squares their shoulders instead.
"Alright. Huge party, where do I start?"
"You start," Varis drawls, "by actually getting the man to propose. Publicly."
They groan, and their shoulders slump as they trudge out the door.
They'll need every bit of the supernaturally good luck that seems to come with being the Warrior of Light to manage this one, Varis thinks. After that, planning a wedding will seem like a walk through Sastasha Seagrot.
His work here done, Varis pushes the various papers involving his son's potential spouses to the side, including the paperwork to have the Warrior of Light transferred.
He'll keep it just in case, but he doubts it'll be needed.