Knight and Lords planning certain

Bishops whisper behind the curtain

Her demise is on the cards of love

Thunder rumbles from above.

The knives flash at one hundred paces

Hate crumples all their faces

Intent runs in every vein races

Her end is in sight destiny traces.

Unbeknown to her subtle fate

She glides down the avenues of hate

Unknowing, unfeeling their base intent

She refuses their advances- away sent.

The chain mail rattles in the hall

Overcome with treachery all

None worthy of her grand design

Her love on the altar of her and mine.

The King steps in to save her skin

She is his Queen, his lovers kin

All they fall into their own pit

She on the throne will still sit…