"Rest thy head,
Thou hath done so much for this world."
She said, sending the King to sleep.

"But thine heart still beats,
I cannot wait a moment more…"

"My King, rest thy head,
Let thy dreams overcome thy weary spirit."
She smiled, sending the King to sleep.
"I'll watch over thee."

The prophet foresaw danger,
He journeyed through the night,
Whispers overwhelming,
The King will lose his life.

The castle doors swung open,
There stood a maiden fair,
Eyes bright, lips red,
Her beauty too much to bear .

"The King!" Our prophet screamed.
"What hath thee done with him?"

"I?" The maiden frowned,
"Nothing," She said with a grin.

With but a moment to lose,
No weapon to help his cause,
The prophet dashed past guards,
Through the hallowed halls.

"No!" Shrieked he, heart racing,
The King lie cold and stilled,
"No breath in his lungs!" The prophet had failed,
"Our King has been killed!"