The starlight shimmers on her pensive face

She holds a wilted flower in her hand

Lays back and feels the daylight in the sand

She ponders with her quiet, royal grace

The dark that burned her kingdom like a brand

While creeping wind blows cold across her land

So far from home, she's still tied to the land

The castles gone, she stands alone to face

The wild magic of a crueler brand

Now rules her kingdom with an iron hand

She's ready for the foe she hopes will grace

Her with his presence here upon the sand.

A challenge set, a line drawn in the sand

She knows not where her bitter blows will land

No witnesses save for the rocky face

Of rocky cliff that lends its solemn grace

To quiet game that bears her royal brand

The waves and tide her loyal helping hand

In nightmares now she sees the outstretched hand

She tries to help those dying on the sand

Their gasping breath still sears her like a brand

And so she can't forget the curséd land

She bides her time here waiting for His Grace

Awaits the day she'll rend his smirking face

Awaits the day she'll thrust him face to face

With souls he's killed, their blood upon his hand

She knows, for him, that death will have no grace

Just him, and her, and blood spilled on the sand

His blood to heal his curse upon the land

His cooling corpse to bear the traitor's brand.

His anger makes his cheeks burn like a brand

His wrath and madness twist the handsome face

"A stupid bitch, to think you'll take my land"

Her letter shaking in his guilty hand

Sword drawn, her silence echoes in the sand

And she was wrong – in death, he falls with grace.

She strokes her brother's face with stony hand

Buries him beneath the sand with grace

Her brand of healing her own war-torn land