If only we knew you.
If only we could see your face.
But the fate was sealed,
where the horses neighed and the swords did ring.
The moment of the dragon’s fall,
a heartless song the mummers sing.
The realm held its breath,
as the prince forsook his duty,
passing over the lotus of Dorne,
named the winter rose his queen of love and beauty.
In their hearts a desire was thus kindled,
like a spark of lightening and a sound of thunder.
Thus the fate of the seven kingdoms was doomed,
as the she wolf yielded and the young dragon did blunder.
Eloped together the lovers did,
with a smile on their lips and a joy in their heart.
As tales of abduction flew through the realm,
unease spread from the wall to tarth.