As much as the storybook kingdom knew of the events their prince and princess had struggled through, it was hard for the public to really understand them. After all they were such a lovely couple, full of grace and dignity. It was difficult to imagine them as anything other than the picture perfect people they were.
Unfortunately, Rue and Mytho were entirely too aware that the differences between who they had been and who they were now were paper thin. Most days, the present occupied their full attention, leaving the past only hints of nostalgia to pull at. In contrast though, the nights were filled with anxieties and fears that were ripe for the picking.
Rue saw herself clothed in black fabric–a cruel smile painting her lips. With no remorse or regret she hurt those that loved her over and over again.
Mytho saw dark feathers burst from his skin as golden eyes turned pink. He lashed out at everything and everyone, demanding nothing less than obsession from them.
Those memories played over and over in their dreams, transforming from simple recollection to nightmares they dare not even remember. Still no matter how hard they wished, the past would not go away.
When your inner demons were simply yourself, what difference was there between you and them?
Still when sleepless nights plagued them both, sometimes a hand would shoot out and grab the other in a vice grip, or their leg would nudge the other ever so slightly or they'd run their fingers through the other's hair. It didn't matter what the physical touch was as long as they had a way to tether themselves to reality.
Eventually morning would come, and they'd get up and get wrapped in the daily problems of domestic life. Again to everyone they'd be picture perfect people–poised and at peace.
But they'd know the truth. They weren't heroes of villains, gods or demons, the two of them were nothing but survivors trying to get from day to day.
And as long as they had each other, that suited them fine.