Her back is turned to him as she stands at the stove, silently making tea for them both.
He watches her with dark, desperate eyes.
He needs so much from her right now, so much that she cannot give. He needs her touch, her words, her love, oh god he needs her.
She brings the steaming cup to table and places it in front of him on the table.
They say nothing, do nothing, but in their minds a battle is raging.
Words are being shouted, bodies are being tangled in love and passion, feelings are being declared, in their minds.
He has everything to say to her, but nothing that can be given voice too.
Instead of speaking those words, instead of touching her, instead of proclaiming dire, burdened love, he reaches for the steaming cup and swallows with no care to the burning liquid that rolls down his throat.
This is them now, no longer king and queen, no longer tender lovers. Silent strangers sharing steaming cups.