Had we met in another place, another time
You would have called me my lady,
And served me on bended knee
I would have thought nothing of it.
I would have thought nothing of your torment
Just as you have thought nothing of me
Perhaps I pay for the sins of my proud grandmothers.
Your torment here,
In the here and now
Is to be loved by a daughter of kings
Brought to her knees
You are no king.
You are but a vicious, spoiled cub
And you seek red toga comfort with a cat's-paw
I was once silk, you know
And I am still the blood of kings
On my knees
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