Do not give your name away.
It is the one thing you should
There is a strange feeling
that follows you
into the forest and across streams.
Do not turn around.
Don't accept gifts from
who seem far lovelier than they really are.
not for free.
Don't say thank you.
It's as good as owing debt.
Say you appreciate the assistance,
but never thank directly.
Tread lightly in all things.
Wear bits of clothing
Stuff salt in your pockets.
And if you here music flowing from
a nearby stream or ring of mushrooms,
do not dance to it.
You will not be able to stop.
listen, my love, but don't follow.
question, but don't answer.
watch, but don't become enraptured.
for there is beauty and there is grace,
but danger follows closely.
for the folk most fair are crafty
and death comes swiftly after.
from the lilting call from the valleys green,
and the roaring whisper of the winds most proud—
to the steady murmur of the waters deep,
and the swaying song of forest fair.
spring has beckoned you my darling,
and it calls your name,
it beckons you forth—
into the woods with a softly glowing sun,
and curls it's vines and plants its roots behind you.
and forward now is warmth and light,
a cheery little tune.
a dance, a game, a riddle, a rhyme.
and the fair folk come for you.
so sight has cursed you my precious one,
and i've gifted you with knowledge.
should you choose to close your mind,
but keep your ears wide open.
then may your mind be steady and your feet be quick.
for the fair folk hate you leaving.
I have lost many and gained nothing in my kingdom of ice and hate. Succession to the throne would merely seal my fate.
You can't love, you can't dare show weakness or they will descend upon you like flies to the dead.
There are those who once bowed in reverence that would gladly take your head.
I sit and play this game, a game of blood and war.
There are days I start to forget what it all has been for.
We serve them pawns of flesh and they sing songs of sorrow.
Mourning the dead can wait till tomorrow.
I count the days until I may see your face again.
I wonder yet, if you will forgive me, my greatest sin.
Will you hold me once more in your warm embrace?
Will you smile at me despite the pain you face?
If I could rip out this heart,
show you it beats only for you.
Would you tear it apart?
Or could we start anew?
Until I sit upon the throne, I can never truly atone.
You will never be free from winter's grip.
I cannot afford to slip.
To become what I despise,
I must play into their game of lies.
Become the King they want of me.
So I can drown them in their treachery.
When that day comes, my love, I can finally set you free.
This was actually loosely based on a character I developed for a story. I was writing in his perspective.
— The End —