AdviceLove your mate, feed your young
Sleep the warm days in the sun
Help those who matter to you
May them be many, be they few
Some can scorn you for your luck
Of them you shouldn't give a fuck
The untitled poem in swedishKallthjärta, kallthjärta, var är du nu?
Jag flydde genom häven, genom fjällen
Lillahjärta, lillahjärta, vad göra du nu?
Jag fly, jag fly, jag flyr långt bort
Ishjärta, ishjärta, var tillhör du?
Genom skogen, genom staden
Ingenhjärta, ingenhjärta, vem älskar du nu?
Genom allt jag flydde, genom alla jag flyr.
One of the wildI was meant to be among the strong
To become one of the wild ones
Wolves were to be my brethren
As one of them I would have roamed
Savage and proud, free and fierce
Leashes and chains, curses of promises
It would never touch me
Ever would I be captured again
So was I meant to be
SonOne winter afternoon, king Valerie wandered the empty hallways of the royal castle. In the clothes of a lackey, without his bodyguard or a single weapon to defend himself, he somehow felt safer. Free. A heavy oakwood door blew open with a bang, as he watched the tearful scholar dash by. He fought the urge to run to her, to try to comfort the young woman. He sighed, leaning against the stone wall. He shouldn't be there. He had no official connections to the boy. Any nasty rumour could ruin him. But of all the speech in the court, the worst they could speak was the truth. Still, he knew getting caught was not the reason he was reluctant to enter. He collected his courage and turned to the door.
"Marvin", he greeted the young boy as he stepped in. "Father." He decided to ignore the insult within the exaggerated politeness. The mess was almost as bad as he had expected. The only thing that didn't seem to be broken or knocked over was the heavy wooden table, with his son sitting behind it,