Work Text:
Under crusted ice, submerged in tears
Tears long frosted. The boy that was
The fae that is, he lies therein
He waits. The splinters held within
Yet to be broken
Furthermore.
Evermore they come and go;
Kings, queens, magic and sword
One returns. And so it is
So it was foretold.
The man
The king now crowned as Winter's joy
In turn named him his freedom. Freedom
His, and not his own.
And so the forest sees the fae
Under crusted ice, emerge to hear
His footsteps. The shallow hope within
Yet to be broken.
He waits
For more.