The clash of swords, the battle's cry,
Beneath the ashen, storm-lit sky.
She stood beside her noble king,
A shield of love 'gainst fate's cruel sting.
"Hold fast!" she cried, though fear did swell,
For in her heart, she knew too well.
Oh, love, my light, my kingdom's flame,
Your throne will stand, but not my name.
For what is flesh but fate's cruel art?
My sword defends, but tears my heart.
Through chaos red, the lines broke thin,
A shadow whispered, "You can't win."
Yet still she fought, her blade held tight,
For vows of love, for wrong and right.
An arrow flew, it found its mark,
And stole the breath from her mortal spark.
"Go, my king," she said with pride,
"My life is yours, for you must guide.
