Chapter 10: Teach Me How I Should Forget
I expect I can't blame this entire ordeal on Father. I did rather provoke him when I said the diplomatic visit he'd planned was - how did I put it? - a "dishonorable sham," I believe I said.
No, that didn't go over at all well.
Nor when I told him that I would not marry until I found a woman I truly believed worthy of it. I expect that remark was what prompted this particular scheme. If he would only listen for once instead of barking out demands the way he does… I do understand the importance of establishing an heir. But the thought of choosing a woman simply for breeding purposes makes my skin crawl - as though one were purchasing a sow at the county fair!
A queen should be more than that. A queen should be kind, and wise, and generous, and patient…
A politically expedient match would also be a good idea, as Uncle has repeatedly impressed upon me. Finding someone suitable will be fairly straightforward. I shall simply make a list of potential candidates and observe their interactions with others to see how well they fulfill the necessary qualities.
Love - well, one must be practical. Putting one's own hopes ahead of what's best for the nation is selfish and ignoble.
I'm sure that, in time, I shall forget all about her.
The door to the library swung open, and a short, stout figure waddled briskly in. "Ah! There you are, m'boy! I'm glad that went so well. We'll have to wait until morning to speak with the archbishop, but I'm sure he'll have no objection to performing a royal wedding. Where shall we send you for your honeymoon? I'm partial to the Mediterranean, myself, but I hear the Alps are beautiful this time of year."
The prince frowned, walking toward the older man. "Father, I'm not quite sure I understand." He drew a careful breath. "Did she come back?"
"What, the girl?" The king waved one hand dismissively. "Nah, haven't seen her. No idea where she ran off to. But that doesn't matter. I sent Clarence out with that shoe, and when he finds somebody it fits, he'll bring 'er back here and the two of you can be wed!" Grinning broadly, he wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and laughed.
"But – that could be anyone!" the prince said, comprehension slowly dawning.
The king nodded. "Yep, I know. Damn stupid of you to make a vow like that, but since y'did, son, I expect you to keep it. Family honor and all that."
The prince was silent for several long moments, and then he simply nodded. "Of course."
"Good!" The king clapped his son on the shoulder, and then walked back toward the door. "That's settled, then. Glad you're being so sensible about it. I'll be on my way – there's lots to do in planning a wedding!"
"And… if she doesn't want to marry me?"
The king whirled, his face quickly flushing a deep purply-red. "What? Don't be ridiculous! Any woman would be glad to have you – you're the prince, after all!"
The prince took several firm strides toward his father. "I will not marry any woman against her will. No, Father. You may hold me to my word, but nothing more; you cannot – you WILL not – require her to marry me." He held up a hand against the king's sputtered protest. "And, after all, you're probably right: I am the prince." He looked out the window, and his shoulders drooped slightly. "Why would any woman refuse the chance to be queen?"