The Ballad of the Storming of the Dark Princess’s Keep
Upon the windswept realms of yore, beneath the cold and watchful stars,
A warrior maiden, lore of war, sought freedom’s gates ‘neath heaven’s spars.
Ashli, named for ash-wood strong, with heart as fierce as winter’s gale,
Set forth to right a grievous wrong, through storm and shadow, hill and dale.
Her target lay, a castle grim, ensconced in mists of midnight drear,
Where evil’s princess, cruel and dim, held sway with heart that knew no fear.
This dark princess, a tyrant’s soul, cloaked in power, draped in night,
Her banners black as coal unrolled, her will imposed by force and might.
With shield embossed by runes of old, and sword that gleamed like northern light,
Ashli crossed the threshold bold, through iron gates into the fight.
The clash of arms and battle’s cry, the ringing steel, the heart’s loud drum,
In halls where shadows fear to lie, her final valiant hour had come.
An arrow swift, by darkness sent, did pierce her shield and claim its due,
A warrior’s life, so brightly spent, beneath the castle’s archway true.
Her comrades fierce, with tears unshed, bore her from that cursed place,
To fields of green where fallen wed the earth, in death’s eternal embrace.
In Valhalla now, where heroes feast, and tales of valor fill the air,
Ashli drinks with gods, not least, her bravery honored everywhere.
Let skalds sing high on windswept nights, her saga known to all who roam,
Of the shield-maiden’s final fights, for freedom, in the tyrant’s home.
The thunder speaks her name aloud, in valleys deep and mountains bold,
A maiden warrior, fierce, unbowed, whose story through the ages told.
In stanzas proud and verses clear, her spirit rides the northern gale,
A beacon bright, forever near, in tales of those who dare and prevail.
Bookmarks