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A strange silence had settled over the city, broken only by the mourning bells tolling their grim chime, drowning out the sobs of the populace they shadowed over. They rang for someone once mistrusted, someone who had won their affection through years of caring and cultivation. They rang for the queen who had given so much of herself to love them well, and they in turn had come to love her.
A wail broke the still air as the casket came into view, quickly smothered by the unseen mourner. No cry of outrage went up. She had voiced what was in all their hearts.
She watched the proceedings from the small window in the inn, careful to keep her face in the safety of the shadows that refused to release their hold to the dawning sun. There was no rain, not a cloud in sight, simply another beautiful day upon which they were to lay her on her pyre.
There was an ache, the stirrings of bittersweet sorrow that she would have to leave these people who loved her so dearly. But she had given them a lifetime, and she could not allow them to ask more of her than that.
It was not until the funeral procession made their way past the inn, located on the road that led from the palace to the gates of the city, that her unbeating heart seemed to skip painfully in her chest, a stolen breath and last gasp all at once. He rode at the head of the procession, proud head held high. There were lines at the corners of his eyes from years of laughter, grey prickled throughout his hair and beard. But it was his eyes, those eyes that schemed up nations, that laughed as he tumbled into bed with her at night, that made tears gather in the corner of her eyes. Usually his eyes swept through the crowds, waving and shaking hands, kissing babies and winning hearts.
He looked at no one now. He rode, back rigid as iron as he stared forward, the weight of the casket at his back pulling at his shoulders as it threatened to break him. The wooden thing draped with veils of black enacted its curse upon the city, the sight of it leaving her hollow, as if she had truly placed her heart within.
She turned from the window, unable to bear the sight any longer. She fell into the soft blankets, curling up in on herself. The tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes had dried now, and yet she felt heavy, as if every ounce of her had fled. With the soft fabric clutched to her chest, such a poor imitation of his touch, she closed her eyes.
There was nothing she could do now besides wait.
/
For the second day in a row, the city woke to the sound of bells. The news passed quickly through the city, a series of wails ripping their way from throats whose owners had no one time to process their first grief, startling her from her sleep.
The king, heart too heavy to go on without his queen, had passed on in the night.
It would all make a rather lovely romance story, once some bard got their hands on it, she thought to herself as she groggily wiped sleep from her eyes. The sound of booted feet racing up the stairs had her mumbling to herself, something about impatience and recklessness, words giving voice to only half formed thoughts.
The door flung open against his eagerness, and even with the cowl of his cloak pulled up high, she could see the smile that shone bright through the shadows. Ah, there were those eyes she had missed so much.
“You were supposed to wait,” she murmured. Her arms reached out for him, betraying her against her words.
He was quick to shut the door and throw his cloak off, an inconvenience now that it had served its purpose. His legs were quick to close the distance between them, falling into her waiting arms as he pressed as much of himself against her as possible. The feel of his lips against hers was that of reunion, that sweet desperation that came from too many nights alone and the joy of knowing that tonight would be different.
“I waited too long already,” he answered, face buried against her neck. “Our burial traditions take too long.”
She smiled, soft and sweet as the morning sunlight filtering in through the window. Her fingers danced across his scalp, threading through those salt and pepper strands. “Speaking of, how did you get out of yours?”
He groaned, pressing his lips against her shoulder, sulking like a child as he joined her on the bed and pulled her into his lap. “I have to go back for the viewing. Need to take that potion.”
She winced in sympathy, the phantom taste of tar on her tongue as she remembered that terrible liquid sliding down her throat and putting her to sleep, her breathing so shallow and slow it became unnoticeable. “My poor husband,” she cooed. She should chastise him for his recklessness, but the feeling of being wrapped around him was too splendid. “You should go back now then,” she whispered, the words reluctant even as she pulled him down with her.
He hummed against her lips, tossing her words aside as easily as he did with his cloak. He moved against her, covering her in warmth and sunlight, and she accepted him with open arms. He fell into her, eager hands brushing aside inconvenient clothing. She gasped and clung to him as he moved inside her, every bit of her unwilling to let him go.
They lay there in the afterglow, tangled together with gentle hands roaming over bodies. There would be time for this later, life times upon life times thanks to her blood now flowing through him, but neither had the will to move.
“You have to go,” she whispered, curled up against his chest.
His arms tightened around her briefly, one last moment to hold her close. A heavy sigh moved his chest, breathed out against the top of her head. She could not help the school girl giggle as his breath tangled with her hair.
“Don’t be cute right now,” he more requested than demanded, a brief kiss against her lips. “I’ll never end up leaving.”
She responded with her own kiss to the tip of his nose, dropping back down against the sheets. He leaned over her, those beautiful eyes sweeping over her, savoring the sight like a man about to walk to his death; which, in a way, he was.
One more kiss, one more long lingering request for the other’s warmth, and then he was gone again. She sighed, legs rubbing together as she attempted to keep the last of him within her. One week of silent waiting, and then when all the ceremonies were over, when they no longer wore their crowns, they could travel the world together, disappearing into the pages of history.
/
The sound of the coffee maker started and pine wafting into the bedroom woke her, a smile caressing her lips even as she refused to open her eyes. For one flash of memory she was swept rushing back to the bedroom in their castle, tangled in gossamer sheets while she waited for him to come back to bed and warm her for a few minutes more before their duties called too loudly, like the braying of trumpets and could no longer be ignored.
But that was almost a millennia ago. There were no nobles to please, no waiting servants. There was just them and the coffee maker filling the small house with its wonderful aroma.
There was a laugh, making her smile grow wider. The skin around her eyes crinkled as warm breath brushed over her nose. She curled into the blankets she had bundled up under her head, using them to cushion her head instead of her pillow like a normal person. But he was quicker, those clever lips brushing against her nose.
“I know you’re awake,” he said, laughter running through the undertone of his words.
She shook her head, making a noise of disappearance that hummed at her throat. She pulled the blankets up, covering the lower half of her face, still refusing to open her eyes. He always pouted so cutely when she made him work for it.
“I was looking for my favorite t-shirt,” he continued. Calloused hands gently worked at the blankets, stealing them away from her. Her breath caught as their warmth was replaced by his very presence. He worked the blankets down over her shoulder, revealing the dark green fabric she had wrapped herself in. “Ah, there it is. Seems there is a thief in our midsts.”
“I know it’s your favorite,” she answered, turning toward the sunlit warmth he always brought with him. “That’s why I’m wearing it.”
She opened her eyes just in time to see his pretty little pout fall to crimson fluster. Her smile turned wicked, but a ringing tore through the morning air, interrupting their reunion. She frowned at the phone, still too comfortable to move. “Who is it?”
He leaned over to glance at her phone on the nightstand, frowning at the distraction. “Seteth.”
“Answer it for me.”
He laughed, clear and bright, flipping on the lamp and picking up the offending device. “Back for less than five minutes and you’re already ordering me around.”
“Of course.” She stretched, grinning up at him as he answered her cell.
“Hey, Seteth,” he greeted, his eyes glued to her as she put on a little show for him. There was a brief conversation, but she already knew how it would turn out. Seteth would relinquish any claims on her time now that he had returned. They would spend the days sinking into each other, chatting about unimportant things. The flow of time had stopped for them, but after a decade there was much to catch up on.
He ended the call with a ‘hump’ as she pushed him down onto the bed, stealing their reunion kiss before he could hang up. It was only then that she realized how much she had longed for him, that the sorrow that had settled in her heart over the past few weeks were a longing for him. “A decade is too long,” she whispered, so close she still felt his lips against hers when she moved.
He hummed in agreement, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. With immortality running through their veins, they did not need to spend every second together. There were adventures shared, either through experience or stories, things that were just theirs in their own way, in a way those with limited time could not comprehend. But every so often, such things would wear on them, and the need for each other became too much. No matter how long it took, they would always meet again.
“I’m sorry, got held up. There was kind of an attempted assassination right as I was planning my death.”
She laughed, kissing him again, tasting the sunlight on his tongue. “And you couldn’t let them get away with that, could you?”
“Absolutely not.” He sounded outraged at the very idea.
He rolled her over, his hands caressing her hips. They were soft touches, more remapping her body than anything else, despite the centuries they had spent wrapped in each others arms.
“Welcome home,” she whispered, pulling him to her.
“It’s good to be back,” he answered, brushing their noses together. “Now, give me my shirt back.”