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“I can’t agree to the fashion restrictions, Liam. I’m a fashion designer. I’m alternative, edgy. You can fit me into a square hole for a minute, but I don’t want to live there. I can’t sign this if following that crazy woman’s rules are a part of the deal. Is there any way to discretely leave that part out?” I felt a kind of desperation I’d never experienced before.
“I’ll have my lawyer change the wording so that it’s not so concrete. If the wording is vague enough, then the interpretation upon infraction will be more pliable,” he said more to himself.
“What?” My head was spinning.
“If we get caught and called out, we’ll have more wiggle room. Remember these contract items only come into play if we are in breach of the contract. For example, if you wear a bikini to the opera, or if we get divorced and you try to take me for every penny I have. This just protects the sanctity of our union.” We both had to have a laugh over that one. I had no intention of attending an opera.
“Right, our oh-so-sanctimonious union.” I giggled.
“Good, at least you’re laughing, you had me very worried.” He heaved a big sigh.
“Oh, you should still be worried, trust me. Let’s read the rest of this mess to see what the hell I’m getting myself into.” I felt feral at that point, ready to pounce on anything that separated me from my personal freedoms.
The rest of the marriage contract was pretty straightforward. I couldn’t have any sexual relationships outside of the marriage. I couldn’t slander the king’s name or my husband’s name. I could not defame the Irish monarchy or the country of Ireland. I and my children would have dual citizenship in both Ireland and the United States. It all seemed acceptable, so he neatly tucked the papers back into the manila envelope entitled marriage contract and moved to the next.
The next contract was a document marked PRIVATE in red. It was a legal document only between Liam Seamus Michael Grady McMurrough and Avery Lynn Johnson designed specifically as rules for both he and I. There was a cover letter on this contract that stated it was a private matter not to be read or made public to any member of the monarchy, press, or other interested parties.
This document discussed the terms of our marriage. I was meant to be married to Liam for either seven years or two kids with an option to sign for a third or fourth child within seven years. Another document was already drawn up which allowed for additional children to be agreed upon. Should we decide on a term longer than seven years? There was also a stipulation for additional years in an attached document.
Other items the personal contact covered were sleeping arrangements and work. Under sleeping arrangements, if I wanted to sleep in a room outside of Liam’s I would have to petition a lawyer. “That is ridiculous!” I complained.
“That is necessary. It protects us both. Should you, god forbid, have a child that wasn’t mine you’d be more protected if you adhered to the sleeping arrangements.
“I don’t see how that is relevant at all, babies aren’t always made in beds.”
“Agreed, but if it could be proven you were always in my bed then it might be easier to assume the child was mine or made by nefarious means… thus there would be less speculation that you were being unfaithful.”
Ugh, the sexism in the contract was curdling my blood. “And if another mother showed up out of the blue with a child born of their illustrious king?”
“Same applies, but I hope we are planning on playing by the rules… ” He gave me a wary eye. “Neither of us is expecting to be unfaithful, are we? You are making a lot of sacrifices, but don’t think I’m not. It’ll be very hard for me to remain faithful.”
“Oh, poor you,” I glared at him.
“Please just accept these terms. Being bound to my bed makes it easier for me to prove all of your children are mine. It’s an ancient clause that was in my mother’s private contract and all of the other queens before her. You won’t be able to wiggle your way out of it. My mother petitioned for her own room when she was ill, it can and has been done. Don’t let that condition worry you.” I’m sure it didn’t worry him, but what if he wanted private space… well, he’d be king. I’m sure he’d get whatever he wanted.
The conditions regarding work were even worse. I was not allowed to hold a private position anywhere. “I can’t sign this.” I looked at him and hoped he’d understand. “I have to work, Liam. You know that.” I was beginning to fume.
