Forget his duties, for how he longs to stay in your arms forever.

Clark loves you; he loves you more than the Sun, and that means more than life. He worships the ground you walk on, for how you bless the land with your steps. Worships your voice, for how you sing sweet melodies into the air, even when you whisper.

The grass is damp, wet from the morning dew. Clark's given you his coat to sit on, even if that means his own clothes will be ruined by the dirt and rocks. The sun's coming up, just past the horizon. Nobody is around just yet. He savors this-- drinks it up like the finest cider in the kingdom.

Clark Kent-- your knight in shining armor. No, really. He's served you for years; you've grown up together. He's watched you become a fine ruler, he's watched your coronation, and he's adored you since the moment he laid eyes on you.

He loves you like the Sun, and that means more than life. For a Kryptonian like himself, of course.