He was unsure what to tell her on the night of their wedding. He was tongue tied by her beauty, her apple cheeks and raven hair, and he was so dearly afraid of her rejection, of her disdain. His parents had been understanding, had cut and hennaed his hair, had called him Ferdinand, not Flora. They had hidden him in his room, told the kingdom that the “Princess” had gone on a voyage to find a suitor. When he had left his room a few weeks later, he was presented as a foreign Prince, a nephew of theirs, orphaned. They had hugged him tight and told him that they loved him just the same. But Snow White was innocent, thoroughly unworldly to his eyes, and he feared her reaction, her fury or fear.
“I have to tell you something about my body.” He managed to say as his bride lazily plucked at the laces of her bodice. She looked up at him, her eyes wet and warm. She seemed nervous, as was to be expected, but her wedding dress was beautiful and her smile eager.
“Yes, my Prince?”
“My body... it may not be... as you have expected.” His words came out as a struggle. “I have breasts, and a cunnus, like a woman's.” For a minute or two Snow White stared at him, before she began laughing with mirth and laying back onto her pillow. It was not a cruel laugh, nor one shocked, but a tittering that was kind as birdsong. She shook her head and finished off the laces of her wedding bodice, exposing her entirely flat chest.
“How funny. My body is just the inverse.” The Prince was shocked for just a second before his thin lips spread in cheer and he joined in her relieved laughter.
“How lovely, then, that we found each other.” The Princess smiled coyly, leaning towards her husband and laying her lips to his.
“How lovely indeed.”