“A child has been born!” they screamed from the rooftops
“A child has been born!” they echoed over the harbour
“A child has been born!” they acclaimed in the fields
“A child is a girl...” they whispered in their homes
A child, a little baby girl, has been born
Her inordinate spriteful eyes, two reflections of the sky above
Observes her father with surprising perspicuousness
Her tiny fingers reaching for the gold in his hair
The exuberant notes of the harp fills the castle
The trot of a horse’s hooves making dust cloud in the woods
The sharp clangs of swords clashing under loud breaths
The creaking of a body growing like a sapling into a tree
A girl is turning older, already five years old
She has been showered with love and affection
She has been held up like the apple to an eye
Both by their majesties as well as the people
“Another child has been born!” they hollered in the marketplace
“Another child has been born!” rung in between the crowns of oaks
“Another child has been born!” they saluted in the barracks
“A child is a boy!” they cheered in every corner of the kingdom
A child, a young baby boy, has been born
His mesmerizing eyes, two glaring emeralds
Observes his mother with pride
As she strokes the golden crown on his head, only short locks still
The bass bashful brook of balladry booms in the library
The silent whisper of a ballet shoe streaks in the dance hall
The whirr of a feathered arrow strikes the trunk of an ash tree
The rippling of muscles growing like roots beneath a sapling
A boy is turning older, already fourteen years old
He has been showered with love and affection
He has been held up like a diamond in a ray of light
By everyone but his sister
A girl, a princess, has worked hard her entire life
To get what should be rightfully hers
She was the first one to see the world
Yet she is on the outside looking in
The King teaches the Prince to walk in his footsteps
The Queen teaches the Prince how to treat others
The people teaches the Prince to be a leader
The Prince is taught how to be a hero
The princess’s youthful excitement turned into fire
Bright and scorching hot like brimstone
She was the older one, yet all the attention fell on her brother
He was the one being groomed into a King
The princess’s blade hacked and slashed
The light of a flaming torch glinting red in the steel
She pulled at it with all her might as it got stuck
Tripping backwards from the tightly wound man of hay
“I can see aggravation in your manoeuvres”
The Princess’s sword trainer remarked
One of few practices she got to maintain
Despite being ill fitting for a lady
The swordmaster, rippled ridges and red ruffles
Had always been a friend to the Princess
Despite being as old as the sun
Beaming as a lambent Midsummer’s Eve
“You have known me my entire life,” the Princess started
“You have seen me grow,” she continued
“Am I not worthy of a throne?” she finished
Gazing at her friend and master expectantly
Slowly he gathered his words
For not to say something he might regret
“My dearest petal, you are worthy of seven kingdoms,”
“But a throne belongs to the son a king.”
This did not go well with the Princess
Who had looked for recognition
She swung her sword with the howl of a wolf
And cut the hay man in the middle
Gemstones of ice swayed in the zephyrs
The darkness only illuminated by flickering candlelight
In the empty windows of the castles
As everyone were gathered next to the King’s bed
The King wiped his glassy eyes and proclaimed
“I am not long for this world, and I only have two wishes”
“That my beloved son shall inherit the throne”
“And my delightful daughter to find true love”
The princess’s eyes shot bloodred daggers at the her brother
Whom looked as struck as her by their father’s words
But the Princess did not look at him with sympathy
Her heart was not set upon true love,
Her Throne
Little did she know, the Prince did not seek to be King
As his heart had fallen to the stable boy
Two hearts bound together as tightly as a hay man
True love to conquer all
Had they only spoken among themselves
Everything would have been as it should
The Princess in her rightful place
The Prince in the arms of a lover
A great hall full of people
In outfits and accoutrements all so different
A sea of colour, green, red, and blue
A hundred sets of eyes set upon one man
The bishop with his hat standing tall like a soldier
A golden crown with radiating emeralds
Lay on a pillow of lilac silk
The ultimate symbol of power
The princess stood in the front
Eyes glaring with the abhorrence
Of seeing her crown be put on another’s head
Sealing the fate of her dreams and desires
Her hand fell to the ceremonial sword on her hip
Her fingers pulsing with desire
The holy man was about to say the final words
And so was her brother
The blade plunged into red velvet and ermine fur
Between ribs and muscle spasms
A hundred shocked eyes fell on her
As she proclaimed her queendom
But one man rose from the crowd, with a lion roar
With a dagger in her heart, she was thrown
But she was sure she had won, she swore
As she fell with the crown in her hands upon the throne
