Demon Queen Vanessa was quite vexed. For a thousand years she had ruled the realm fair and just. All the gods were dead, their remains zealously guarded and sought by her most loyal agents. But damn the divine, that prophecy of that golden bitch! What kind of madman uses prophecies anyways!?! Those fate spirits are so single-mindedly stubborn that they'll burn down the fucking multiverse to so much have a distant shot at completing their goal! And as long as anyone knew of their existence they would live and sadly this one was common knowledge. They didn't have the time or resources to suppress it to THAT level, thanks internet.

How many lives had that petty bitch's Prophecy already claimed? She sighed, gods. Always the fucking gods. Nobody should have that much power, mad the whole lot of em. She turned to her personal attendant, Lilly, a fellow God Cursed. The result of an ancestor refusing to fuck a misogynistic pig with more power than sense. The succubus nodded, indicating it was time. She sighed, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside her as she looked at the wedding gown.

You see, Prophecies are kin to contract and wish magic in a way. You brought forth a word and imbued it with enough power to change reality itself. But a word is a word and words have many meanings. When we'd first spotted the loophole we'd thought a one night stand would be enough. She'd hated it, but was willing to swallow her pride and dignity to finish the Prophecy. That man died when the failure became apparent. But the Prophecy had reacted, it had acknowledged the path. So they tried again and again and again. They eventually reached a conclusion. It had to be a form of long-standing power over the other and it had to be real. No pretenses or figurehead. It had to be real, true power over her, specifically.

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Other paths were considered and evaluated, but no other path was acceptable. The hardest part had been accepting her feelings, to let the Prophecy push on her soul like it was a chew toy. It's pressure was nigh unbearable these final steps. She would have to devote her everything to breaking it's grasp now, and all it'd achieve was starting from zero. No, the wedding had to proceed.

At that altar she saw his smile, she knew he loved her too, she was far too magically potent to be fooled by his mediocre self. As the vows were exchanged she was frightened, she took her time, knowing a lie or hasty answer would ruin all the work. He knew who she was, he was on board with the plan. He was perfect. How could she say no? As they kissed she felt the Prophecy's power fade as it completed, the spirit peacefully dissipating into oblivion. Content with the completion of its mission.

She cried into his embrace, a thousand years of struggle and hardship, fighting the inexorable Prophecy and bending it to her will. All the pain and suffering her people had suffered at the hands of various heroes. Gone forever.

For a Prophecy of her death, it sure was a good matchmaker.