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the prince threw the old newspaper down. yes, it was his own decision. no, he didn't want to do it. but he would need to find a wife eventually. there was no sense in lingering in the past. in what could have been. his love was gone. that was the fact of the matter. he needed to face that and come to terms with it. for the sake of the country as well.
he shifted to his side in his bed, looking at the picture of him and angelina that remained on his nightstand, her ring resting in front of it, along with a pack of uno cards. it would never get easier, would it? everyday he hoped that angelina would come barging into his room, jumping on top of him to wake him up. when it didn't happen, he hoped that her murderer could be brought to justice. and they never did. he wanted to scream and cry and die and move on with angelina. he hoped she was happy.
he would have died. the prince would have gladly let himself die if he wasn't needed. the country needed him. his sister and his parents needed him. he couldn't leave them behind. the only thing he could do was keep moving forward. to look up and on. to learn to be happy again. it's what angelina would have wanted. she was watching over him, he could feel it. the prince groaned and stood up off his bed, carefully collecting the picture and the ring, placing them in an ornate, cedar box. and to the top shelf it went. his memories now packed away carefully, he let go. no girl would want to marry him if he couldn't move on. he needed them to want to marry him. his eyes finally slid away from the box, to the calendar. tomorrow. the selected would be arriving tomorrow. he pushed his hair away from his face and opened the curtains, letting the sunshine spill into his room that had been dark for years. tomorrow.
••••••••
today. today was his wedding day. the prince knew he would get married. but to be in love again? to be able to be happy and move on? something he truly didn't think would happen. especially so soon. the selection lasted only seven months. and he found someone. he stood at the altar, his white suit pressed neatly, fitting him perfectly to his toned body. violins started playing a delicate melody.
"please rise for the bride." the room stood at once, and the large doors into the grand ballroom opened. there she was. clarissa whitely. her dress fluffed out in front of her as she stepped. when her eyes met the prince's, a wide smile met both of their lips. yes, so happy and in love. as clarissa made her way up to the altar, she handed off her bouquet to her maid of honor, another selected whom she had grown close with. she playfully shimmied her shoulders as she stepped towards the prince, who had his hands held out for her.
(warning again!)
clarissa never made it. all in slow motion, there was a loud pop. glass shattered. eyes widened, then blood sprayed. when the prince realized what had happened, it was already over. people were screaming. clarissa's bright, beautiful eyes were now pale, her skin gray and lifeless. half her face was missing, blown off by whatever bullet had hit her. her perfect white dress was now red with blood.
(clear!)
again. how could this happen again? the prince was too stunned to even do anything. he let the guards pull him into the safe room. he let the maids wipe clarissa's blood off of his face. they were giving him tissues. apparently he was crying. it had to be a coincidence. two of his fiancée's murdered. it made him sick. it made him sad. it made him angry.
they thought it was two different people. to everyone but the prince, there wasn't a note the first time. the second time, the guards found it. and the prince didn't know about it. which was a good thing, he likely would have gone on a manhunt himself if he knew it had been done by the same person.
i warned you.
he knew then and there that he wouldn't be happy again. he wouldn't love again. sometimes, for some people, it just wasn't written in the stars. he'd lost everything more than once, there was no point in trying again.
