when noblewomen try to refuse an arranged marriage, it’s always because the man is “fat, old, and ugly.”
someday i will write a princess refusing to marry a young and beautiful prince because he’s cruel and stupid. choosing instead to marry a king who is fat, old, and ugly, but also sensible and a good statesman, because she knows her marriage is a political alliance and she can always get her jollies with pretty courtiers if it comes to that. “my petticoats are full of politics,” she will say. “my royal booty is much too important to waste on handsome jerks.”
the business of getting an heir is awkward, because her husband tends to act like an indulgent uncle and that’s not at all sexy. but he’s happy to mentor her in statecraft, knowing his age means he’ll leave her in an awkward position. when he does die, they’ve solidified her standing enough that she can rule in her own right.
her second marriage is for love. as a stately middle-aged queen, she can marry prince charming, and make him prince consort rather than king. his gentle nature makes him a fine diplomat, and he’s not inclined to try taking power.
her daughter, raised by political maestros, never marries at all. she handles power with such a deft hand that she can name a well-educated cousin as heir and take him to apprentice without more than token grumblings from the nobility.
and that, i say, closing the storybook, is how our kingdom came to elect its royalty from a pool of candidates based on aptitude scores. now go to sleep.
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