His Queen

Epilogue.

A/N: Please listen to the song for the chapter above:
Flicker by Niall Horan (Acoustic)
I hope you'll like this!

———————

He was bleak.
He was black—ink dark and deadly as night spreading, producing the stain of misery to all he set his eyes upon.

Except her.

Her.
Always and ever her.

He seeped through her veins; brought forth painful pleasure laced with pleasurable pain. For she; she minds not, her heart docile and accepting with all that he could give her for that is him.

Him.
Every word, second, touch that passed with his eyes true and loving, raged yet guilty, candid and pained, she took greedily.

For that is him.
That is the man whom she loved so much.

Stars fall, clouds leave, the world turns, yet her love for him is evergreen.

You see, they are the black and the white that is irony.

They are.
They are.

Every single vine, every single pulse of their hearts and their love are filled with irony.

For in her eyes, she wants him.
Needs him.

All of him.

She loves his heart, she loves him—all of his jagged edges that made her fingertips bleed and her heart cry in pain for she knows.

She knows.

She is there.
For what ever is the purpose of her love?

Is it not to complete him?
Is it not to give him a gentle piece of her soul to smoothen his sharp, jagged edges until they were no more?

Was she not made for him?
Surely she is.

She is.

He sobs.
He cries.
He bleeds.

He bleeds for her.

For this was all his doing, was it not?

She completes him.
She loves him.

She loves him; so much that she gave him a gentle piece of her yet he was blind.
He was unseeing.

She completes him so much and in her eyes, at the end of each day no matter how much pain he inflicts upon her, she loves him fiercely so.

Oh, the irony.
The vines that intertwine were in a relentless pursuit to strengthen the one another-unbreakable.

For in his eyes, he was undeserving of her.

Her body,
heart,
soul,
her love.