I'd love to know this child
who's grown inside my womb,
but fate has made this battleground
my dim, blood sodden tomb.

It happened so few months ago
that I remember each detail
of the meeting with a foreign prince
on a mission doomed to fail.

With our kingdoms on the verge of war
over a plot of gem-rich land,
neither side would compromise
and so took sword to hand.

My solemn purpose was to kill
the prince so lovely and young,
but as my dagger grazed his throat
I deserted the task I'd begun.

His words of peace tempted me
and then we realized
it mattered not who won the war,
we'd lost too many lives.

If together we could convince
both monarchs to call a truce,
we could devote our armies' skills
to another valuable use.

Our nations would merge and exist
as one vast, powerful land
extending through the forests wide
and across the desert sand.

Our gentle dream blurred our sight
and overthrew our reason.
We fell in love too easily
and both committed treason.

He rejected his family's crown,
and I cast away my sword.
We packed few clothes, mounted my horse,
and escaped without a word.

We'd sail across the icy sea
and begin life anew,
but by dusk, in a dark, silent wood,
my lover was run through.

An ambush had been waiting,
sent by our furious kings,
one who ordered his own son's death
for cold gems to set in rings.

My heart wept for my husband,
(we had married in secrecy,)
but in spite of my grief, I had to survive
for the sake of our baby.

I fought with all the skills I'd learned
as an assassin elite,
but they drove me to a battleground
where I felt this arrow's heat.

Now as I wait for death, I pray
for our people to unite
so at least my spirit will see
the end of this greedy fight.