It was not me.
The sin was not mine. Mine were not the hands that tied the ropes that bind us apart. Not my tongue that spoke the words that broke the lover’s heart.
Save your benedictions. Save your anemic excuses. Between us two there be only truth and fleeting truces.
Do not ignite a flame in me who his hand hath stayed. For honour’s sake I kept silent while the howling warhound bitches bayed. But seek to drag me down and I shall pay you true. With coin in kind to your shame and rue.
Mistake thee not my silent stare for lack of rage. I remember all, written in blood upon my heart’s secret page. I feel no shame. I have not no boundaries crossed. Twas thee the first first blow struck. False innocence upon thy hidebound shield embossed.
Loki’s tongue lives well within thy head. I shall have truth known though the telling leave me spent and dead. I fear you not. Your spite is wasted. I stand proud for all to see. Ware you now lest I your betrayal requite and cow you with my discounted and forgotten might.
Ware thee well my erstwhile dear. I hear all. I watch thee close. My eyes are clear.