In years too old to tell a tale, yet still these words exist,
I bear the humbled chronicles of the Queen known to subsist.
Of kingdoms, lore and treasures held, this story bears a turn,
So gather round & listen fare, for the bridges we may burn...

It all began upon an eve, nary a billow in the sky,
As lunar lashes bat the earth, against the castle's rise.
overlooking, past the chains, gargantuan in girth,
The drawbridge kept all secrets, over simulated firth.

The kingdom's finest bureaucrats and knights too brave to fear,
Bemixed with trusted confidants, solely chosen ear-by-ear.
A celebration was in place, ordered lasting 'til the dawn!
To honor some-odd twenty years, the King and Queen have gone.

About the grandeur of the halls, the fires dimly danced away,
As shadows of the jester's songs, slowly kept the morning's bay.
And feasting on the tables of beastings glazed & basted,
The meals prepared for all to eat, aromas needing tasted.

It was upon the eleventh hour, when the Queen had raised her glass,
And asked the silence of her guests, so as her simple toast may pass.
"I thank you all for coming and am glad that you are here,
Please know I love, without an end, my King and lover dear."

She raised the chalice to her mouth, wine as crimson as her lips,
And drank of sweet ambrosia, as the moon doth bare eclipse.
Her eyes begin to softly dim, her skin now chilled as frost,
From scent of almonds on her breath, a poisoned mouth had crossed.

The King cleared out the commoners and smiled in his wake,
And promised to the people of all precautions that he'd take.
Unbeknownst to all their servants & bed-maids to the Queen,
He rushed her to her chambers, to savor and to preen.

Truly she had spirit, untouched, unbroken, unloved,
Truly she had foes, unremorsefully now ungloved.
As she lie upon her bed, soaked from chilling sweats,
Her voice so faintly whispered on, to gods if she held debts.

With the breath, that was her last, she looks out to the window,
And sees the trees waving goodbye as winds of death now blow.
Her eyes had shut, her heart had ceased, the Queen has now moved on,
There's nothing more to do for her, the King has told his pawns.

Under secrecy of King and under darkness of the night,
The hunchbacks of the castle removed her out of sight.
They travled miles down the river, so horses left no clues,
And cast her pale-white body like a piece of yester-news.

For days the kingdom was in arms, they searched throughout the land,
Until the King had ordered that the search was out of hand.
The peasants & the peons revered her with respect,
For the Queen had kept her husband & madman into check.

Without her sweet embraces, the King was free to rule,
To lavish in the taxes of the people he saw fool.
For days he relished in the joys of foods and drinks to bare,
And sought the castles concubines for evening flesh to share.

It seems as if this simple man, with not a trace of sorrow,
Would live this way through every day, from now and 'til the morrow.
But fate is quite debatable, aloof and too obscure,
To just begift a King's own will with nothing to endure.

Which is where our story takes its turn, one foggy afternoon,
Along the banks of Millers River, just shy of the lagoon.
The body of the Queen had been ravaged by the lands,
And washed ashore the rocks, just as helpess as the sands.

It's here where parts of flesh remained, still clinging to her bones,
It's here the witch had found her soul, amidst these sullied stones.
This "Doctor of the Dead" had gathered all that he could find,
And took her to his shelter hidden deep within the mine.

Tails of creatures, tongues of beasts and eyeballs far & wide,
He murmured incantations seeking spirits from inside.
A blade he drew across his hand to spill the force of life,
Then licked & savored all the drops that came from off his knife.

With shadows from no sources and lights that didn't burn,
The spirit world returned the gift of life to those concerned.
A specter of her former self, she thanked him for this gift,
And with a flash, she disappeared and left immortal rift.

Not only kings may come to plot and harness their revenge,
For she now plans to make amends, to frighten fully and avenge.
She thought she'd take it slow, to envelope fears potential,
Start with something small, perhaps bring question to credentials.

She made the thoughts of populations, question to the King,
As to where he may have come, to make his highness sing.
Until they found his father, born vagrant of wealth or heir,
And ridiculed him for his roots not born of the true chair.

Now the Queen began her quest, to make sure her lover suffered,
And increased her efforts and her will, to make his life much tougher.
She saw that he indulged himself, in the pleasures of the whores,
And thought she could increase her joy when he's behind closed doors.

So she cursed his flesh that he had prized and shared willingly each night,
And from the boils dripping puss, turned each the girls in fright.
The King himself had cursed the lord and begged for his forgiveness,
But alas no one had answered back from the omnipotent abyss.

In depression he had moped, staggering to the mirror upon the wall,
And gazed back at his reflection, just a hollowed crystal ball.
But deep within the barren black of shadows in the room,
He glanced the figure of his wife and smells her old perfume.

He turned but as he looked away, the mirror had shown no truth,
He spun around to look again, then he saw her in their youth.
Tears began descending as they clapped on floors of stone,
And a smile from this empty man, for once, finally had shown.

It wasn't out of joy, but rather, madness setting in,
He thought perhaps his mind was gone, from the moments of his sin.
But in that moment, all alone, the King lifted up his chin,
And for a second, saw her smile with a devil's charming grin.

As arms of bone reached out to clasp & take him deep inside,
The frightened horror within his eyes, was all he could abide.
And to this day, the story says, the King was never found,
But left within his chambers, a statue left uncrowned...