And so, a fog settled down in between them, dividing them for ages untold, hiding them from each other as foretold. For what was prophesied could not be wrong, that they, the King and Queen, would thus be separated and perhaps, even conquered by their personal demons. Together, they were a force to reckon with. Separated? They were as weak as younglings. For they had different abilities that complement each other’s flaws. Where the King was known to make haste, the Queen was thoughtful. Where the King was weak, she was strong. And vice versa.
What use was his pair of eyes if he couldn’t see her? Being the King didn’t even hold meaning anymore. He would rather be a peasant, just to have the chance to lay his eyes on his beloved again. Even the most beautiful sight would pale in comparison. Life would be like sepia, devoid of any colours.
He felt lost. Totally lost without her. He couldn’t rid his thoughts of her. Every day, every passing second, he would mourn the loss of the sight of her. Though he could hear her through the devilish fog, it couldn’t really substitute the elation of seeing her.
Perhaps this fog would come to lift in time, he thought. No doubt it has got to lift one day. Where the sun pours its warmth again on the coldness of the fog, and evaporates the essence of it. Where the good finally triumphs over evil. Where darkness retreats in the presence of light.
He couldn’t wait for that day to come.