Maybe when you look at me, you'll see this villain who peers down at you through arched eyebrows. A cloak that snaps in an unseen gale and a smirk playing on his lips.
Maybe when you pass by me in class, you'll glare at me with those viridian eyes of yours as fire leaps into them. Fear snaps your back straight and I can taste the destruction our next adventure will bring us together.
But maybe, maybe when you catch my eye, you'll know that I burn for you.
There is an inferno that burns within me. Hatred crackles, love quietly ferments and resentment oozes into every pores. There is adoration that tempers my fury. Thrashing, struggling and twisting in a flare of bright neon vengeance. Great belching smokes of perfumed madness, black against red, there is a roar in me that threatens to set the world ablaze. Maybe you'll know that all these are yours - yours and yours forever.
I don't move the stars for anyone, you know. Not just for an ordinary mortal. And how you captured my attention, twist me around your little finger and made me dance, twist and cavort madly to amuse you. All I've done, I've done for you and the stars twinkle and spin merrily above us.
Did you not feel the palpable tension in the air when there's only 2 of us in the same room? It is excitement. Did you not flinch at the electricity that sparkled and flashed when I brush against you? It is attraction. Did you perhaps not notice that when you're around, I burn brightly like the Sun? Flaring like a beacon, there is ozone and metal in the air when the two of us dance.
But you do not know all this, do you?
Oh Sarah, don't you know? I am yours, precious, yours until the world falls down.
But I have forgotten how Time is never really my servant. Not really. I can twist it, reorder it, warp it but never command it. Never, never, never...
Because when you face me now, there is no recognition in your eyes. Only the beaten look of a woman (how the word tastes bitter in my mouth) crushed by the responsibilities of the world. The exhaustion of taking another breath, taking another step, in a world where there is no one to see the fire in you, nurture it and watch it devour everything. But it is a small thing now, guttering and gasping. A thin flame that flickers unsteadily. (I can't live within you) There is nothing in there that was the you when you had first stepped into my world (and my heart)- and turned it outside down, inside out. (Everything I've done, I've done for you.)
And yet, just like a foolish pathetic mortal, I still hope.
So when you pass by me along the corridor, eyes empty and looking past me, through me, I will ignore that horrible twist in my heart, banish the tightening of my throat and slide a smirk across my face. Leaning against the banister, nonchalant and aloof, I will let my words glide to your cheek, kissing that alabaster skin, "Sarah, looking ravishing as always..." and I will wait, breath in my throat, waiting just once, just once where your gaze would not skip past me like rocks across the water.
You're falling, Sarah. You are sinking into the pitch black ocean, dropping on the seabed with a muffled sound, no one to hear you drown. My crystals crack, my goblins screech and yet, you fall not into my arms.
I saw you today. At the wedding. Adorned in satin and shiny things. I was captivated at first by the sheer brightness you emnated that my heart stuttered. You came back. I thought My Sarah had actually returned. That Is, until I saw that only silver and gold made you shine brighter, spotlights and mirrors that implanted artificial light in your pores, smiles so utterly devoid of any feeling, I saw a doll.
"Will you take this man as you lawful husband?"
I stood before you when you said the words, gazed into your eyes and what I saw, I saw.
Only a melted candle remained. There was a wisp of smoke, the dying sigh of an extinguished flame. For the first time, I fled.
The labyrinth is dying. The goblins are fading one by one. The Sun is breaking apart into pieces, raining fiery teardrops from the sky. But what pains me the most, are the stars. They plunge from their midnight perch, one by one, trailing little sparks of light as they descend. And then...
They are gone.
Their sparks are swallowed by inky darkness as black teeth snap sharp in satisfaction.
There is nothing here anymore. My castle is in ruins. The Labyrinth is but wind-worn stones. All my subjects are gone.
I am King, King over the land of the Dead.
With nothing to return, nothing to preserve safe your memory, I will burn. Burn in the memory of you. Burn, burn, burn. Till all there is is just white bone and gray ash, you'll come home into my arms.
I will burn.
Burning for you, forever more, forever more...
A/N: What was supposed to be a fluffy introspective oneshot about our favourite King turned into this. I don't even know what happened