𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀; ɢᴠ x ʜᴘ (𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃)

𝟎𝟎𝟏; ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss ʜɪɢʜ ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ

HER MAJESTY, stared with a broken gaze in her glowing luminous green eyes.

How long has it been? She doesn't remember as all those she once knew withers away as she remains, even as a millennia of years passed.

Yet the stars remain the same.

Eternally been beautiful.

She remembers when he first saw them, the way they reflected in the glass, how they gleamed like dew drops, shimmering in her own.

Flickering beckons, little lighthouses, guiding lost souls, shining in the horizon, far off and distant. They look so small, from down here, only glowing spots in a darkened sky. Oh, but up there? High beyond the clouds, above within the nebulous', they were more than bright. They were radiant.

White hot balls of plasma, held together by gravity, they burned, big, too intense to get close to. Too far off to get close to, just tiny pricks in the sky. It was all just a matter of perspective.

Yet the universe was cold, too.

The universe was vast and great, but it was cold. No air to breathe, to go would be to suffocate. Cruel and unforgiving was space, no matter how beautiful.

She had always loved the things that caused her the most pain. She remembers millennias ago when her childish curiosity had her venturing into the portal, and had her experience to this very moment the most truest and vividly painful torture.

The rage crawls under her skin like acid, a potent poison she suppressed for years. The pressure is building, has been clouding her mind, fueling her with dark and dangerous thoughts.

She came out that Hell with a shine to rival that skies glow. Her eyes became an endless pools of deathly lights. When she soared, high above the clouds, she could see them clearly.

She was incandescent with it.

Though when the stars burn up, turn to supernovas, what's left after?

Ashes, the ruins of all she had once loved? Space is cold and vast and cruel, and she burns with it, cold enough to peel skin.

Riddle had become nothing but a memory. At her grave stands the Deathless High Queen.

She became a blackhole, destroying everything else with it, slow acting poison that sucks up everyone and everything, greedy and starving. The death of all good things. The death of all things, period, gaping like a wound, like a grave, ruining everything in its pull.

She is a vision of ethereal beauty, a being that seems to have stepped out of a dream. Her long, snowy white hair cascades around her like a shimmering veil, moving with a fluid grace that suggests she is more air than flesh. It floats around her as if it were mist, each strand a breath of life that dances in the air.

Atop her head sits a crown of ice, a jagged and broken thing that glows with a light that is both eerie and enchanting. It is as though the Aurora Borealis has been captured and woven into this crown, lending it an otherworldly quality that is impossible to ignore.

Her gown is a flowing thing, made of pure starlight that shimmers and sparkles with every movement she makes. It seems to be alive, a thing of constellations and heavenly bodies that shifts and changes with each passing moment. The silk is so dark that light itself seems to vanish into it, swallowed up by the endless shadows that flow like a waterfall around her.

Her skin is translucent, a pale starlight that makes her seem as though she is made of ice itself. Her face is beautiful, a work of art that seems to have been sculpted from the most delicate of materials. Her eyes are like nothing we have ever seen before.