The king Tristram sat prostrate on his throne. Wretched had just walked out of the room, the sound of the large doors coming shut with a bang. He clenched his greying blonde hair in his hands and took off his spectacles to rub his eyes. He knew Wretched was ugly, there was no escaping the fact.
The queen had never allowed suitors to come to Wretched. She had never allowed Wretched to go outside the castle. The people of the kingdom of Nedrehn did not know of Wretched's existence. They only knew of one daughter, of Clarinda.
Clarinda was tall, thin, and blonde like her father. Her eyes, however, were a dull brown that never shone (this is not to say brown eyes are not beautiful; however, Clarinda's were not). She was an evil child, a spoiled-rotten brat by the queen, and Tristram knew it. He knew how sweet Wretched was, how kind, caring, and compassionate. She was a gifted artist and musician. She was graceful and a good dancer, full of poise. The perfect heir to the throne.
And yet the queen would never allow it. She would do anything in her power to keep Wretched out of sight for as long as she lived... and Tristram could do nothing about it. Even though he was king, he still feared what Deidre coud do. She had the love of the people, her father being the knight Gerendlen, the savior of the kingdom in the War of 100 Days, the most deadly war in the history of the kingdom of Sen.
The people had rejoiced when Tristram married Deidre. They loved her because of her heritage.
That was the same reason why he married her.