as the daughters of farmers need to be, for farms are complicated businesses.
The kingdom smiled on the match.
The queen, however, did not. She had enjoyed her time as regent and felt a strange reluctance to give it up.
She began to think that perhaps it was best that the crown remained in the family,
that the kingdom be run by those wise enough to do it, and what could be a better solution than for the prince to actually marry her?
(“That’s disgusting!” Conor said, still upside-down. “She was his grandmother!”)
(Step-grandmother, corrected the monster. Not related by blood, and to all intents and appearances, a young woman herself.)
(Conor shook his head, his hair dangling. “That’s just wrong.” He paused a moment. “Can you maybe put me down?”)
(The monster lowered him to the ground and continued the story.)
The prince also thought marrying the queen was wrong. He said he would die before doing any such thing.
He vowed to run away with the beautiful farmer’s daughter and return on his eighteenth birthday to free his people from the tyranny of the queen.
And so one night, the prince and the farmer’s daughter raced away on horseback, stopping only at dawn to sleep in the shade of a giant yew tree.
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