Wounds of Plenty

You came too late. The blade of revenge has already carved out the heart of this king.
He strummed the melody of the sea, leaving the guards intoxicated in the wind.
The maidservants dreamed of boundless riches and indulged themselves in the game of scarf competition.
Even though I clutched my sword as I slept, I could not resist the frenzy in my heart.
He appeared before me just like this, with a crowd of revelers following behind.
The jesters clinked their goblets, as if celebrating my execution.
I offered no resistance and drank the honey brew he gifted me.
How I wished it had been a cup of poison, so I would not have to feel
The cold blade as it claimed my life.
Alas, the dirge played for me was utterly dull,
Far less enchanting than the melodies Lady Hysilens played before the expedition began.