He loved her,
He
knew it,
He, a peasant of unkown poorer,
She loved him,
She
knew it,
She, a princess of known richness,
They loved each
other -but-,
He was jelouse,
He knew it,
He, the advisor of
the King,
So, the answer so very easy,
He killed her,
Broke
the heart of the peasant,
He yelled into the window of the
princesses room,
But she would never hear it,
For the princess
is dead,
Her lips as cold as ice,
Her eyes staring until
nevermore,
For a dagger, belonging to the advisor, petruded her
chest,
The peasant snapped,
He couldn't take it any longer,
His
anger got the better of him,
So one night, 2 days after her
death,
He snuck into the advisors room and...
He killed her,
He
knew it
He, the advisor to the King,
Now, a dagger, belonging
to the peasant,
Petruded his chest,
And the peasant, no one
knows,
Some say he killed himself,
Some say he found another
woman,
But, some other people (Including thee) believe that,
No
matter what he would stay at her side,
Until lifes end,
Holding
her hand,
And he held in his hand a ring,
A very special
ring,
He was going to give her,
That night...
THE END?
