A/N: I'm...not entirely sure why I wrote this. But I've been neglecting my Sweeney Todd obsession for other more pressing ones, so I feel I ought to break the dry spell.
Disclaimer: Sweeney Todd ain't mine by a long shot.
King and Country
He was the King, the ruler of her world, and she gazed upon him with such reverence that it was almost a sin to intrude upon. Not that he noticed. Not that he cared. He didn't. He had one purpose in mind, and one purpose only: to finish his war of revenge on the Judge and Beadle. He went about his business as he had done every other day of his life; he slit the throats of his customers with a dreadful resolution, bathing in the crimson tide which soothed his soul until the chair righted itself, then spent the long hours of darkness pacing the floor like a caged animal, lamenting his past and swearing vengeance on the men who had ruined his life.
And there she was, always lingering in the background, desperate to be close, unable to break down the barrier around his heart.
During those moments, he never knew what those longing looks she cast in his direction confessed. Or maybe he did, and just chose to ignore them. Either way, the same was witnessed each day; Nellie staring at him with devotion in her eyes from the safety (or perhaps the confinements) of the pie shop while he, unaware of her feelings, went about his business as usual. Never changing. Not even for her. Especially not for her.
Like a king, he had many admirers, from the customers who visited him to the whores on the street, people who admired his talent and whispered about him (have you met the barber of Fleet Street? No? Strange fellow, but knows his trade well. Mighty handsome, too. A Bachelor. Strange, though. So strange.), but he disregarded them with cold contempt. It was not for the sake of her though; she was not the queen of his heart.
But this did not deter Nellie Lovett from trying to claim what wasn't hers, nor did it stop her from attempting to make him love her. Like the king of any country, Sweeney Todd was blissfully unaware of the love and devotion he was receiving from his dedicated nation, the one woman he should, could, love eternally. He was, like a king, blind to the small tokens of affection he received from her; the long, sultry looks, the intimate quality of her voice, the momentary brushing of their skin. One day, Nellie was sure, her slow and painful crawl for her uncharted country would be the death of her.