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They once were the Sun and Moon.
A long long time ago, long before the first fairytales were written, their eyes crossed on the eve of their world's birth, in the heat of the oven which grants life. From this very moment they knew ; both felt it in their hearts. Their soul and mind together would illuminate the whole wide world. They were promised to eachother.
But just like all things in this lowly world, time would eaten away even at this love. It eroded their minds and their once tightly held hands would slip appart. No one could stop the flow of time.
And yet. He knew. The once Fount of Knowledge still saw her through the fog of time and apathy. As long as he remembered, their bond would endure, and someday surely, it'll be reborn.
But he can only watch, and contemplate his recollections. The things she does, the things she did. It's vivid in his mind, his most treasured thoughts and memories.
That look she had, spreading the word she thought would save the world would so many times have fallen on him, tender and caring, yet lonely just like him.
The times she wandered around aimlessly in her domain, looking for something she couldn't point out : he knew. He would have told her she hadn't eaten in hours, and neither did he. They'd spend a few hours discussing how to help the people, how they had time and how nothing would ever change while sustaining their vital needs.
The white robes she wore through time itself, flowing like an entity between a ghost and a goddess. Just like her, it never changed. It only worn and covered itself in a protective shell of dust and ashes. He still knew that recipe used to whiten fragile cloth like this silk she adored so. He would even make it for her, and they'd restore her favourite ones to new.
The room she sat in for hours, listening to the cries of her people and of travelers equally. The incense burning calmed the mind, appeased the soul and her gentle words caressed the heart. He'd sit here for hours on end, listening to her voice, contemplating her magic operate and comfort her when she deemed a wish granted wrong, or when greed ate at her mind.
The nights she spent under the night, both now and then. She always said she admired the moon, for one cannot look straight at the sun without going blind. But the moon was gentle, illuminating the dark night and allowing life to keep going. He would praise the sun for allowing life to exist, for granting warmth to all who were in its light, and even those in the shadows. Through clouds and rain it'd still shine. They would chatter on until sunrise, retiring to the pagoda giggling like children.
The brush she used to create breathtaking art. She was a master of paint and ink : calligraphy flawless and neat, yet still elegant and moderate ; her paintings seemed to bring the ink to life, depicting landscapes and peaceful moments of life. She used both black ink and subtle colours, on paper she had crafted herself. They would both create pieces together, picturing the world they dreamed of, thinking of how to create it.
The sounds of the pagoda rang ever the same. Gods relax, enjoy themselves and protect the domain, games are played, food is devoured, wishes are granted. The noise of paradise drown out distress and eases lonely hearts. He had always wandered around. Knew the place by heart, just like many things. He would listen to its murmurs, sneaking in like a sole shadow, sneaking out holding the sun in his hand. They would venture in the wilderness around, listen to the townsfolk and discover sights never seen before.
.
..
...
Ah, how he wished he could. How he wished he would. He had fallen so low. Not a God anymore, but a damned Beast at best. That's right ; the Master of Deceit had only tricked himself. Ah how lies, beautiful and alluring lies, could soothe his itching soul.
But the truth must and should stay buried. Shhh ; let the wounded beast mourn his love. He stared at the sun for far too long, his sight can no longer be trusted.
"Ah. If only I could." He sighs in the lonely night.