The dead queen reclines on her dead throne, monarch of a dead world. The sun glows dimly above, a perpetual darkness in the atmosphere. It is as twilight. She lies resplendent, as gorgeous in death as she was in life. Her legs curl gently over the arm rest, her torso outstretched, her head dangling. Her hair forms a curtain around her desiccated hands, palms open, fingers outstretched. The doors remain open. In the land of the dead, what purpose would walls serve?
Her face is etched into a small smile, her lips paralyzed by eternity. Even dust fails to stir in the stretches of time that plague this wounded place. Some might call her resplendent. Some might call her vile. The corpses of her subjects stand where they died, petrified in death. They decay infinitesimally, skin flaking off to reveal hardened bone. In their homes and on their streets they remain in grim parody of life. A puppet show by a puppet queen, a nation frozen in time.
At her peak, she claimed dominion over half of the galaxy. When she died, she took her most loyal subjects with her. When she died, she took the very essence of the stars too, plucking them from the sky to wear as a necklace. They sit there still, gently glowing. Her capital city is not the only dead world in her domain. Even in death, she claims more worlds than the mightiest of living kings. Even in death, she claims more riches that the vastest coffers of the merchant gods. The treasures of her kingdom are ripe for the taking, available for any who dare set foot onto this dark place.
The would-be treasure hunters seeking to plunder the easy pickings of the dead queen find themselves dying. The planet resists life. The very star itself devours it, the light destroying all it touches. Their corpses stack up in walls, bound in death by her will. They find themselves walking away, leaving their ships behind. Gold slips through their fingers as they crumble to dust. Would anyone survive the curse of this world, they would find themselves the richest creature in the galaxy. But no one could, for no one has mastered death like the dead queen.
This is why, of course, it was quite unexpected when a smiling figure strode into her throne room.
He spoke proudly. "Why, if it isn't Queen Mazlik? As I live and breathe!"
The queen's smile grew wider, her dry lips cracking. She hadn't moved so much in a thousand years or more. Her mouth opened wordlessly, her voice struggling to ignite in her throat.
The stranger bid her no time to catch her breath. "Hail and well met, love. It has been for too long for us both, has it not?" He spun in a circle, his coat flapping outwards. Smoothly, he flipped the hat from his head and rolled it along one arm, dropping it onto the floor where it spun along vanishing into the shadows at the edges of the throne room.
The dead queen spoke without moving. "Aren't you going to kneel for me, Fel?"
"Ah, milady," said Fel while doing a small curtsy. "Have you ever known me to kneel for anything?"
Perhaps her dry rasping wheeze could've been considered a form of laugh. "When the circumstances were correct."
Fel chuckled. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep bow. "Quite a deathtrap you've built here, huh? Must get awful lonely."
Bones creaking, the queen pulled herself upright and settled into the throne slowly. She folded one leg over the other and rested her elbow on one arm, her chin propped up by her hand. Every movement was achingly slow, as though she was rediscovering her body in real time. "I find it peaceful."
"Yeah? I guess you did need time to hide." Fel's eyebrow flashed and he winked. "Sorry, did I say hide? I meant heal, of course." His voice never dropped its amused and chipper tone.
The queen sighed. She idly ran one hand around the hole in her chest. "Pray tell, thief. How did you survive the light of my most hateful star?"
Fel smirked and raised his hands plaintively. "Now, now. I can't let you have all my secrets, could I?"
"If you seek my riches, it would aid you."
"If I sought your riches, they'd already be mine."
"What then? Have you come for my hand?"
Fel wrinkled up his nose and playfully considered it. "T'would be impertinent of me, would it not? I thought your heart belonged to another."
In slow motion, anger etched itself upon her face. The two stared at each other, as she slowly calmed herself. "Don't speak her name to me."
"Ah," said Fel. "That may be difficult."
"Your brash overconfidence will not serve you well here. Know that I could pluck the soul from your body with just a gesture."
Fel's face stilled. Stony, he replied, "I am well aware, I assure you." Both knew that only one being had ever escaped the clutches of her death.
"The stars stand still in the sky, Fel. I tried to end time itself. I let the world cave in." There was sadness in her voice. Nostalgia and longing mixed. She would've cried if there was any moisture left in her body. "How many years has it been? What have they spun without me? I came here to die and I did. What more do you want from me?"
Fel closed his eyes and sighed. "Maz. I truly am sorry to disturb your rest. I come bearing news."
The queen stared forwards with sightless and rotted eyes. She watched as Fel slowly approached, his feet echoing as he climbed each of the steps towards her throne.
"Pale is dead."
The queen's hand closed on her chest, sitting protectively over the hole that went right through her. "Impossible," she hissed.
"You'd think. And yet, her estate stands empty, her path winding and overgrown. Her fortress is unoccupied. She's abdicated her thrones, cast out her concubines. They say she rode a dragon into a star and dove deeper into the void. Word is that she's never coming back."
"She cannot die!" The queen was yelling, her lungs shaking with the force of her scratchy voice. It was the sound of slow stones moving, tectonic plates shifting. "What of my heart?"
"Yes," said Fel. "That's why I'm here. You know me. Greatest thief in the universe. I stole the stars from the sky and the oceans from the sea. I swam in the gold vaults of the infinite sky and lived to tell about it. I swindled the forge god into making me a universe. I smuggled a planet through the fabric of fiction itself. And yet!"
He now stood over the throne, towering over the dead queen. He was imposing figure these days, strong and prideful. She raised a hand slowly and his fingers met hers, playfully tugging her hand.
"And yet?" she prompted.
"That bitch stole the heart of death itself. What could I do to ever match that?"
The dead queen closed her eyes. Sometimes she could still feel it beating. Sometimes she could feel Pale's smile in the distance, the softness of her touch.
"I'll always be second best. I'll always be mortal. I'll always be the guy who lost in the dying days of the great age."
The queen held still. She spoke very slowly. "I thought you intended to make peace, as I did."
"She thinks she can just ride off into the unknown? She thinks she can just run on out of the galaxy and get away with that? No, I say."
"Little thief, did you not settle? Are you still as brash as ever?"
Fel laughed, bitterly. He turned away, his voice low and sad. "Do you have any idea, Maz, any idea at all how boring it's been?"
They both stared out the open doors onto the streets of the dead world. Not even a breeze stirred under that radioactive sunlight.
"I may have an inkling," she said.
"We used to be great. We used to be legends. We played games, held battles. We were glorious!"
"We were wasteful. It was an excess, a delusion. We were children."
"Fuck that. Accounting, trade, wealth. It's all so stupid."
"You could settle here," said the dead queen. "Join me in death's embrace. Find peace."
Fel spat.
"Please?"
"I have no desire to watch you pine for that bitch for all eternity."
"It wasn't my choice," said the dead queen.
"Love never is."
The queen released Fel's hand and relaxed back onto the throne. "Why do you love me? I can not be what you want."
"Why do you put up with me? You despise my nature."
"You cannot help what you are. You are you and that is all I ask."
"Yeah, well." Fel stepped away and stared into the shadows at the corner of the room. "I came here to warn you."
"What warning have you for the dead?"
Fel's eyes widened. He spoke quickly, his voice hungry. "I'm going to track her down and I'm going to steal it back. Old style. A proper quest."
"It?" echoed the queen, questioningly.
"I'm going to pluck your heart from her chest. And then, then you'll love me."
Something dark gripped at the queen's depths. Icy fingers moved through her spine. "Fel," she said, warning in her voice.
"And then we're bringing it back. I'm going to bring it all back, you hear me? We're bringing greatness back. We're going to conquer the galaxy, you and me."
They both stared out the doors. The queen's armies, unused for thousands of years, were sufficient to conquer much of the universe if they ever saw fit to climb out of their graves.
"Why?" was all she asked.
"Why? Why?" He was yelling now. "You ask why? Because it's all so boring. Because we live in stability, fucking boring stability. There's no more wars, no more gods, no more heroes on their epic quests. People don't trick death to be immortal, they buy a pill. Nothing worth stealing." He gestured wildly. "Maybe I want more heroes. Maybe I want more adventures. See, I think if we had villains, we'd get heroes. Maybe we'd get something more interesting than this infinite fucking nothing." He snarled, his lips pulled into a truly outrageous grimmace. "And if no one else is going to do it, then I'll break the galaxy in two myself."
"Don't do this," she said. "Please."
Fel laughed. "You're going to stop me?"
She reached forwards, trying to grab him. But her arm was slow and he nimbly stepped backwards, out of reach.
"You're dead, Maz. The universe moved on. You stagnated. You bowed out and quit. There was a time, maybe, where I had to be afraid of you. But now?" He chuckled as he skipped down the steps. "Look at you. Pathetic. Love, fear not! You're coming back. You'll put yourself together again soon enough. I promise!"
She reached outwards, straining. She struggled to stand. But motion was still foreign to her, still unknown. Her limbs didn't work as she wanted. Her bones were too thin.
"I'm happy here."
"Nope! Liar!"
"I'm content," she insisted. It wasn't really a lie. It wasn't existence. It was just death. It was just peace.
"Please!" Fel laughed, foul and cruel. He stood in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'm going to pluck that little ex-girlfriend of yours from your head. Fear not! Dry your tears, my dove, and sharpen your swords. We're coming back!" His voice echoed down the streets as he stalked outwards, leaving her alone again. "We're coming back!"
The dead queen sat on her throne, the most alive she'd been in uncountable aeons. "But," she said. "But I love her."
That was the funny thing about death to her. It was acceptable for her. But Pale? That wasn't right.
"I don't want her to be dead," said the queen. "She's not supposed to die. That's why she has my heart."
She could feel her heart. She could feel it beating. She could feel it quickening.
The thing about death is that once it was cast off, it was hard to recover. The queen would try. But she was awake now. With her, her people stirred. With her, her stars turned in the sky. And as Fel's lonely spaceship took flight, zipping away into the cosmos, the dead queen screamed.
She screamed because she didn't want greatness to come back. She had wanted it to die with her. In many ways, it had.
But what could she do? It was out of her hands. Slowly, she closed her eyes. If nothing else, she was good at waiting.