Bright blue eyes with dark shadows beneath them.
Pale, freckled skin and a sharp collarbone.
Blonde hair that stuck up in all directions.
Pink lips cracked and chapped.
Fingernails bitten down to nothing.
A navy blue suit that squeezed an emaciated body in all the right places.
The Prince loves him
For all his imperfections and defects and disorder, and for all his beauty and humor and selflessness.
But he knows they can't be together.
As he walks down the aisle with his bride, he does not feel like he's being married.
It feels like he's being walked to his own execution.
The Oracle understands. She does not get upset. And he wishes he loved her, because things would be so much easier.
She is not too unlike him, is she?
Her blue eyes, soft blonde hair, and paleness.
But her lips are smooth, and her nails well kept. Her white dress flows over her soft, hourglass figure. Her hair is always neat, not a strand out of place. And her eyes are never tired.
She is not him. And she could never be him.
But she understands. This is all just for show, anyways. Once they are married they can both go pursue their individual fancies. Out of the public eye, of course.
Still in his wedding suit, The Prince meets in an empty hall with his lover, his best man.
This is an affair that started the day they met.
Their lips meet, and they are both unravelled.
The Prince cries, because this is not what he wanted. He wanted a life with him.
She will never be enough, and he hates himself for it.
The Oracle loves him.
She cries on her brother's shoulder, lamenting the love she lost before they were engaged.
She knows his heart lies elsewhere, and she thinks it selfish that she should wish to distract it.
The Prince, now The King, on his wedding night does not lay with his bride, The Oracle. He lays with his best friend, a self-proclaimed monster and the love of his life.
And though it is not ideal, it's all they have.
