She was a princess fair as rising sun,
Kept safe and sheltered form webs life spun.
As her father looks at lit room of hers
where she sleeps in highest of his towers,
His mind is wholly full and black with worry,
A warrior prince is attacking with a fury,
Old kings land had been at peace for all his age,
its borders would not hold for long against the princes rage.

A message carried by a priest of Sun
From young princes House has come.
A threat held openly and an offering of peace.
Perhaps too much has he named for its price.
“Your daughter, in marriage I want her hand,
As your heir she will give you peace and me your land.”
He has no choise but to give him his light of life,
So well protected to this day, a stranger to the world.

Now by the pact signed and sealed is her fate.
Day dawns mist shrouded as the bride on that fateful date.
In the Old kings castle all shed a thousand tears,
But a girl dessed in bright white and covered in pearls.
She stands alone and in the mirror not a tear on her face,
A pretty image of a girl wears a smile not wholly nice.
In her hand a glint of steel, a blade of truths and lies,
With one swift movement and a laugh in her gown she hides.

A wedding of the royal kind, there he comes the groom so brave,
Wavy hair and body of attractive kind, a man many ladies love.
He stands, face joyous holding her by hand at the altar of Blood,
God of Life and God of Death, joined in motion dark red flood.
The priestess of life and priest of death join her and him,
Truly a wedding fitting for true the warrios kin.
For a moment’s fancy he looks in her eyes bright and full of sin,
suspcion jumps to warriors mind, where comes this force within?

The music fades away as he carries her to bridal bed,
Lays her down and soon stands above her, his armor shed.
Eyes full of lust he does not see the blades of truth and lies.
In white pearls rain as truth out of lyes she flyes to stand,
All he holds is empty shell, his life held captive by her daggered hand.
“I am not an not a village girl for you to conquer,” she snarls,
“You must win me or you must die,” jumping back she calls.
A brawl of forces equal, a dance in a fight where neither wins,
In this dance of pain true love begins, they submit to sins.

Poor father did not know his daughter had another face to show.
He awakens and holding her he whispers in her ear “How?”
“At the age six I met a serving boy of eight, a young weasel bright.
From him I learned the ways of life, the will and skill to fight.
Together we ran at nights on downtown streets, made friends and woes,
unlimited, unknown we did and learned all that every warrior knows.”
Face to face they planned their life, full of hope and youthfull joy,
In that bed the world was divided to pieces and conqured as a toy.
True warrior to lead the forces with his wife as his equal in command,
No force could stop them now, not anyone on seas nor on land