My tale begins here,

As all good tales do,

With promises dear,

And broken ones, too.

Love stronger than death,

Yet too weak for life,

Choices made in a breath,

With the gleam of a knife.

The queen ruled alone,

In a land by the sea.

A world of her own,

A soul brave, wild, and free.

She sang to the sea,

And danced with the sun,

A true sovereign, she,

Who would bow to none.

In her hands were the powers,

Of wind and wave and light, And the lesser man cowers,

Before one so bright.

He washed to her shore,

By storm or luck or fate,

His hulls battered by war,

His heart by hate.

He had seen too much gale,

To believe in fair wind.

He seemed meant to fail,

His journey to end.

Wrecked and despairing,

He fell hard on the beach.

Beyond point of caring,

If hope were in reach.

The queen, coming down,

To sing to the sea,

Caught the hem of her gown,

And wondered what it could be.

Looking down on the man,

Or was he a beast?

"I'll do what I can,

Turn him over at least."

When eye met eye,

In a sudden burst of light,

Heart met heart,

As they say, at first sight.

You know of this thing,

You know I say what is true,

One look, one word, one arrow-sting,

Perhaps it's happened to you.

They both knew this was love,

Though not a word was spoken.

Though one was fallen, one above,

One was whole, one broken.

Our queen, she has the power to heal,

The wounds of beasts and men.

But, for all her power, she cannot feel,

The scars that live within.

Day by day, he rose, grew strong,

And stronger their love grew.

And day by day he sang the song,

"My life I give to you."

She knows nothing of the words men say,

Having lived so long alone.

And so she falls with each new day,

Ever further off her throne.

She follows him with words so sweet,

We weep to see her so.

For we know the shape of wandering feet,

And wandering he will go. There are things you do not tell a queen,

Even one so strange as she,

You do not tell her that you've seen,

Him looking out to sea.

She will not hear that he still longs,

For home's ethereal shores.

And in his sleep, in murmured songs,

A name that is not hers.

They lived like this just for a year,

One turning of the world.

She did her best to keep him here,

But still his sails unfurled.

She came down one morning bright,

To sing her love awake,

Only to find, by weak dawn light,

What he'd chosen to forsake.

She'll not believe, she climbs to look,

And there, but far away,

A white sail turning, her hands, they shook,

She has nothing left to say.

We said all we could, but one disdained,

Is no longer able to hear.

We told her that love cannot be restrained,

What great fortune to have had a whole year!

She walks with terrible, purposeful stride,

To the beach, the undisturbed sands,

And with the fury of desperate pride,

Takes the powers into her hands.

The powers of wind, of wave, and light,

Can be used for good or ill,

With a slash at her palm, a knife's quick bite,

She binds them to do as she will.

And he, feeling the change in the sea,

Knows that his answer has come.

To have left one truthful and poud as she,

For the dream of a faraway home.

Lost in the fog,

Alone in the deep,

Bound by a promise,

That he couldn't keep.