Dearest Diary,
I regret to inform you that we did not consummate the marriage. I entered my Arachnia's quarters prepared to sweep my bride off her feet. She stood to greet me and to my chagrin she was adorned once again in pants. Pants!? On a woman!? On a date!? But alas, my dear enjoys a challenge, a challenge I vowed to face.
She ushered me in and poured me a glass of wine. I toasted to our rule across the cosmos and she toasted to our obedience to business. As we seated I informed her that I was to present her a gift made only for a queen. She raised her lovely eyebrow in question. With a flourish I presented her a golden locket. She said I shouldn't have as clasped the trinket around her neck. I simply chuckled at her modesty. She opened the locket to see a photograph of myself and she insisted that I really shouldn't have in her state of awe.
What a dear.
The poor darling must have been so nervous to be finally loved touched by none of the most handsome man in the cosmos. As we dined, each time I brought up our future she would redirect our conversation on how to deal with our people disappearing between our realms. I would attempt with vigor to curb or time together into a romantic tone but she dodged at every attempt. Finally, when I mentioned it would be best she bare only eight sons for our kingdom she stood quickly and demanded my dismissal. I begged for an explanation. I was not out of line. I believe eight is a wonderful number for our offspring! When examined, six is pathetic and ten is just overdoing it!
With her cheeks red from wine and girlish innocence, she summoned her guards to drag me away. Why must she toy with me!?
I must discuss what to do next with Geoffrey. I am at a loss!
You're Welcome,
Chaotica