No, not really

All is quiet as you make your way to the throne and the assembling court. You arrive soon and on time, to murmurs of approval from the crowd. Your Lord High Steward, Sir Dietrich, approaches and begins presenting the pressing issues of the day. Dietrich is an imposing and venerable man beyond fifty years of age, hair and beard long-gone gray from the many duties he has been entrusted with, known as the most honorable lord in your demesne. He rattles through the list of grievances and important news that he holds outstretched, though things appear to be an unusually dull day for a coronation. He seems to be speeding his way along, and you soon understand why.

"Young sire," he begins, 'though the topic we bring before you is a personal matter it is also a matter of state. The recent deaths of your beloved brother and father have emphasized the delicate nature of a ruling dynasty, and how quickly sudden misfortune can bring a kingdom to its knees. Therefore, the court has universally agreed to petition that you soon find yourself a wife and begin siring the next generation of your line, with all due respect. We, of course, recognize the gravity of such a decision and will not press you recklessly into a bad one. We merely suggest with all due respect that you make this a priority, for the security and well-being of the realm." He finishes this part of the speech, the normally stony man reddening from speaking of matters which are borderline gossip.

"If you wish", he adds, still red "the court has prepared a list of suitable candidates for you to choose from. Speak to me in my quarters if and when you want to discuss it."