Once upon a time, there was a a king with three sons.
Prince Arkadi was the oldest at 24 years of age. He was the quietest of his brothers, with a naturally severe expression. He was also the most athletic of his brothers, as well as the most skilled in combat. He tried to be polite, but he still intimidated his guests.
Prince Mitya was 22, the second oldest. The complete opposite of his older brother, he was a flirt. It had gotten him into trouble with his father a few times, as well as earned a few slaps to the face by the ladies of the court. He was the most laidback of his brothers.
Prince Ilari was the youngest, only 20 years old. He was a proud young man, but could also be very bitter towards others. He had been very sick as a child, and thus had never become as strong or tall as his brothers. He had a habit of being cold and rude, but was also very awkward.

The king was growing older, and he began to worry for the future of his sons and their kingdom. He thought about what to do, as none of his sons seemed to be able to find (or keep, in Mitya's case) a romantic partner. He summoned his adviser, Rodion. They had been friends since they were small children, so Rodion was able to speak more freely than other members of the court.

"Tell me, my friend," the king sighed, "why are my sons such... failures in the realm of love? They are all fine looking young man."

"Well, sir," his companion began, "the problem isn't their appearance."

"It's their personalities, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Alright, let's hear what the problems are." The king threw himself down onto his sofa.

His adviser sat down on one of the nearby chairs.

"Arkadi is too... rough, shall we say? He's not the best with speaking, but he's a smart young man and gives everything his all. He would marry someone who hates him if that were the best thing for the kingdom."

"And that can be quite problematic." The king nodded, "Such situations could lead to his assassination. Yes, yes. I understand."

"Then there's Mitya..."

"Ah... yes..."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, remembering the last fiasco. The king let out a cough.

"... Let's move on to my youngest, shall we?"

"Yes... that might be a good idea," Rodion agreed, "Ilari... Ilari is... Well..."

The king sighed and rubbed his temple.

"Oh, just say it."

"Alright, sir," Rodion straightened his posture, "Frankly, Ilari is an asshole."

The king burst out laughing at his friend's evaluation. After he collected his bearings, he let out a sigh.

"That is true, unfortunately. I'm partly to blame, though. He'd only just gotten better, and then... Galina passed. I felt so guilty... You know he was close with his mother, and he was always so ill, I spent more time with his brothers. I tried to bond with him, but he brushed me off every time..."

Rodion decided it wasn't the time to remind the king that his way of "bonding" with his youngest son was forcing him to practice combat with Arkadi, and to accompany Mitya to social events (those events were usually going to the nearest tavern in disguise and trying to find a willing partner for the night). The adviser sighed and thought.

"Hmm... There is a tradition among the peasants," he told him.

The king leaned forward.

"Go on..." he urged.

Rodion proceeded to explain how the ritual worked. The king's eyes lit up. If his sons couldn't find wives on their own, then he would simply give them a gentle nudge in the right direction.
Or a hard shove.