Dearest ones I didn’t know there was a type of reverence

That whispered into your soul the very truest meaning of the words

I live to serve

Her voice was quiet when she said it to me, and I shuddered quietly in turn

And I suppose that quietitude is catching, because I haven’t heard anyone say anything since

Cast into shadow and shade

An army of ghosts marching on some unknown abandoned battlefield

I know not where she recruited from that in perfect symphony they exchange glances and weapons

In the quiet

Her beauty must have stunned them I suppose, and if I do not hide me eyes maybe I’ll be caught in turn

Or maybe I won’t, after all how does one queen recognise another if not by that sweet silence

The calm under the storm clouds where an order means more than the weather

And my knights dash themselves against all the well wishes of the would have been

They never have any regrets, my dearest ones