The Sky Is F@#$ing Purple

The Throne Over the Wasteland

I was never the first king.

I sit upon a throne of sapphires and emeralds. My golden tower below me stands tall and proud on a structure of ivory and platinum. Seventeen suns and moons orbit my kingdom, thunderbirds and dragons soar across the sky, leaving trails of smoke and cloud like brushstrokes on a canvas.

Wind blows through my golden chain-like hair underneath a crystal blue sky. My locks are glistening, as they flow miles down into the desolate wasteland. My golden throne, as it stands tall miles above the sand and bone, is surrounded by other humans. From the distance, they look like little black ants. They grovel on their knees, clawing and kissing at the golden structure I sit upon.

My body leans back into my seat. The cool blue sky above me displays a symphony of stars and fire, dancing through the air. My small mortal form is protected under a sheet of steel. Stepping down from my tower of light would kill me. The sand would break every bone in my trifling form, plummeting down to my doom. Yet here, I am safe. My golden armor will forever entomb me. I am on top of existence. 

And then, everything fell apart. The sky erupted into fire. The passive creatures above me emerged from the flames as hellious beasts. The chassis of my throne collapsed inwards as their claws lacerated the thin golden walls.

As gravity itself pulled me into the abyss of my own creation, the monsters at the base of my throne glared at me with gleaming crimson eyes. I fell beneath them, deeper into the abyss, beneath the sand and the bone and the rock.

I am the only thing to persist the damage of my armored being. I find myself imprisoned within a amethyst cave, barley wide enough to contain me. Myself, and the only other prisoner I find myself with.

I look up, so far up in fact that my fragile neck inflames and aches. A monster composed of nothing more than muscle and blue feathers looks back down at me. It is chained to the amethyst crystalline walls, yet it does not attempt to break them or even resist their hold on it.

Its indigo quills engulf me. Beneath the feathers and tendons, its being is simply a small, blue butterfly. Her wings are tattered and beaten. I fly over to he best of my abilities, we embrace. My wings are small, but not damaged.

In the small space between her antennae, is a small rusty golden crown. Small beads of sapphires and emeralds make it shine, reflecting light all around the cave. As our battered legs intertwine in embrace, my small body feels warm again.

I have lost the universe, yet I have everything. My armor has been torn to shreds, yet I am strong. I was not the first king, Yet I am content.