Living with the Princess was not the fairytale Clyde once imagined. In fact, it was often long, hard, thankless work. He had always known Princess wasn’t quite like everyone else, but he had refused to see just how different she was.
She still stayed in her upstairs suite exactly as she had since childhood. The room was almost identical to how it looked then. In a way, Clyde didn’t mind that—nor the fact that she remained very childlike. The problem was that she couldn’t really do anything for herself. She couldn’t pay bills or taxes, couldn’t sign up for or renew medical benefits or insurance, couldn’t be trusted to make appointments or keep them. Just last week, he had spent an entire afternoon untangling a mess with her electricity bill, which she had ignored for months. How she survived after her mother died and before he took a more active role, he would never know.
But he was there for her now, watching over her like a… like a… like a Clyde in shining armor.
Sometimes he wondered how he had let this happen. He’d had a good job and had been married to a lovely, productive woman who would have happily given him children and stability. He had two parents who loved him and might have stayed together if he had only listened to them. He had free time, a future, the chance to see the world and enjoy everything life had to offer.
He had it all—and he gave it all away to watch over a Princess who reminded him often that he would never be her Prince.
What was it about her? Her often-matted golden hair, now tinged with gray? Her ever-present smile? Her kind, simple soul? That distinctive nose? Maybe the fact that he couldn’t name the reason was the biggest reason of all. Ever since he first met her, he’d felt a deep connection, and the thought—now just as much as back then—of letting her down was something he could not bear.
She was, and would always be, his Princess, no matter how much pain or suffering it caused. He often cried thinking about his wasted life, and the knowledge that he would only ever be her Clyde.