Her locks were uncombed but she had not a care,
She knew her Queenly destiny was in being there.
Amber beads at her neck, dangling silver at wrists
The child tossed looks of disgust at he who teasingly
Kissed her cheek only two wild heartbeats before,
And now, as he strode forward she knew, core for
Core he could match her own birthright for pride.
She snatched back her hand before he could deride
Her by loud laughter at it's uncouth and dark stains.
This Prince knew well how able he was to lay blame
For unfit decorum on Cornishside maidenly pursuits.
The raw Celtic Warrior Princess appeared beautifully
Calm, yet under her girdle lurked fear of more strife
When, come womanhood she was to become his wife.
Lovely story verse, being a Celt myself, no not a prince, I let my princess escape. At the time I felt quite sad. Fay your imagination and variability of verse is wonderful, please keep on writing