You're the queen, and it's the queen's house, and whatever Brigan may accomplish, he's highly unlikely ever to be queen.
How unjust then to meet that person you love, and be kept away from them only because ones bed is made of hay , and the other, feathers.
While I was looking the other way your fire went outLeft me with cinders to kick into dustWhat a waste of the wonder you wereIn my living fire I will keep your scorn and mineIn my living fire I will keep your heartache and mineAt the disgrace of a waste o
It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye.