she stood in front of her people calm
him by her side, raising his palm

she slit it gently by her blade
a bond between them forced to made

his face turned in pain filled rage
covered by bark and bits of sage

a consort made to the queen
offer of blood, lust and mead

he loved her still, forced or no
where ever life forced him to go

she queen but not of state
made queen forced by fate

in for people unlike the norm
but people of old who but take form

howl in the night they but do
drink blood from others only few

Androsea sits upon her throne
escape her but a weary moan

a son but given is late in may
Deamonic proud to give the gateway

but in old tales it comes to this
what the son must do in morning's mist

take the blade which gave him life
kill his parents then take a wife

thus the chain never ends
when son over power the mends

now sit upon the thrown once hers
hears his son whimper like soft purrs.