Royals

He rode on a great, white stallion,

head high, as proud as a lord,

with honourable, silver-white helms,

and a powerful jagged-edged sword.

Sat on a throne of diamonds,

hair sweet as a thousand princesses,

golden crown rested on the head,

with silk and satin white dresses.

Body all showered in armour,

with barely the skill to move,

spat on the beautiful blade,

said what the sword was to prove.

She stood with power and might,

her lips were as graceful as she,

he took her hands in his,

then bowed and bent the knee.

“Do me the great honour,” he said,

“By taking my hand in marriage.”
She stared at him with a fright,
“I’ll take you in my horse and carriage.”

“Where will you take me ser?”
“Back to my home and to my bed.”
“What will we do there ser?”
“There is where we shall wed.”

She took her hand away from him,

and thought what a bold, young man,

he was handsome, but she was sickened,

then she declined the wedding plans.

Her father gave a shake of the head,

and yelled at his daughter’s decision,

so many suitors she’d refused,
He claimed that she had no vision.

The man who loved her stared,

a sly little smirk on his face,

he approached her with all respect,

and took the other man’s place.

“Might I be of your interests?” he said.

He stood up and bowed his head,

her face gave a powerful blush

she planned to take his head.

“I’ll put it on a spike!” she roared,

the empire was hers by right,

no brothers, or uncles or cousins,

she was the heir today and tonight.

The King was dying slowly,

nothing to kill him but age,

except for his daughter’s dagger,

to tear deep into his weakened rib-cage

Her fingers ran with rich blood,

the same blood as her own,

the dagger dropped from her hold,

She had won and seized the throne.

She was the country’s new Queen,

her coronation was to follow,

but they had found the King’s wound,

and poison is what she swallowed.

“An assassination!” They all screamed.

“Who has murdered the Queen?”

The fair and sweet, young lady,

who was barely the age of sixteen.

Chaos erupted in all the cities,

the man who loved her stared,

a sly, little smirk on his face,

as he downed the poison he spared.