Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS.
The King: Eriol; the Queen: Tomoyo. A drabble.
AS LONG as she was alive, nobody would burn. The cuts on her cheek and the invisible scars inside her thighs would be everybody's proof. Her breath was warm as though an aura of dark indigo wrapped her, her ivory breasts and sullen cheeks kissed by the ghost whisperers.
The Queen, they called her, worshipped her. Time did not age her beauty, only made her younger and lithe. The Queen sang with a murderous glee and with her flimsy sword, she gathered heads day-by-day and week-by-week, starving for blood and purity. She persecuted her protectors by the King's orders and she was quite confused—quite delusional, they said—her blood a mixture of violence and lust.
Now….the King was dead, but only the Queen knew. He was of wealth and royalty, and handsome like his Queen. He was the kinder one, the quietest one, while she shimmered like a star. It was a delicious combination: they ruled the world and begun wars, and then ended them as though their Heaven was their Hell.
Dead children walked and scared the elderly. And the Queen was delighted, her sword by her side as her troops marched up to towns and villages, forests and farms, castles and lands….She observed them, the screams and the breaking of the wrists. She was waiting and she was alone.
"Not quite, my Queen."
The Queen looked up slowly, eyebrows raised in elegant surprise. It was the flat voice of her dead King. "My dear," she gave him a lazy, cold smile. "I have been waiting."
…I will love you forever.