Like all good queens, I have need of a crown. It's my right, privilege and, dang it, my heritage. You don't pump out three worthy heirs and not get a crown!
Somehow, the king around here just doesn't get this concept. He's had cannon ball sized hints dropped on him at least twice/year* for the past four years. For some reason, he rolls his eyes when queeny's need is voiced.**
So, this matriarch-on-a-mission is reduced to two options:
1. Put king out to dry on royal blog and hope he'll feel forced into buying a tasteful, diamond-encrusted beauty. Or face beheading.
2. Buy it myself. This, as the years pass, is becoming an increasingly interesting concept, with "equal rights" and all being so common these days. Difficult to find time while raising young princes, though.
I think, instead, I shall just issue a decree:
"I, being a never-to-be-dethroned-queen, shall forgo need of a crown, until such time as my knight-in-shining-armor*** sees fit to bequeath one to me. Be it now or be it never, I will always adore him."
Nah, not working. Will start shopping as soon as court jesters return to school.
*Most recently at queeny's birthday dinner when very feminized waiter was wearing a crown ring, leading queeny to ask a zillion questions about it. For the record: king rolled eyes. Uncouth.
**Must ask royal servants to find out what his problem is. Crap. Don't HAVE royal servants....
***His actual nickname from our courting period. Mine: WMD. OH, shut up! You don't even know the medieval meaning.
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