I am the iron helmet that guards your majesty through bloodstained battles for king and country who cradles your mind when your comrades fall and builds your thoughts a sheltering wall But I envy the gold crown that adorns your grace and honors your genius in her tender embrace who encircles your brow at yuletide fetes and grants you glory through ivory gates In me you see a woman of purpose, steel and steed at the treacherous front, impenetrable shield upon your right arm born not for the feast, only the hunt When the snow obscures the steppes and the bow of Artemis weighs my weary arms, I long to be crafted from filigree, the delicate daisy on a spring morn you admire in moments of blissful peace when the air is fragrant and the fire warm But I am a daughter of death, born of ruin and rage So till we both fall alone, this war I will wage