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?