Wedding Bells

Sire...', again the advisor interrupts you, their furrowed brow telling tall tales of concern and sleepless nights. '... the succession does not secure itself, your majesty...' On they go. This dusty old study, and your advisor's dry voice resonating of boredom and wasted potential, accentuates the brightness of the clear day outside. '...which is why it is of vital importance that...' - Don't they ever stop? 'In nature', you find yourself saying in interruption, 'the first step, leading an animal into the grave, is always procreation.' You're not sure if you believe it, only that there is nothing in their voice to convince you that marriage is preferable to the promise of a clear sky.