Not Blood, but Chains

Beneath the stars of White-Gold stone, I lay my crystal crown alone. No king may name a chain divine; The gods of mercy hear this vow of mine. I was born where silver towers burned, Where slaves raised walls and never returned. Our tyrants fed the dark with pain, Then called their hunger sacred reign. I kept the lamps of Aedra bright, A hidden prayer in star-cold night; Now Alessia lifts the poor - I turn from kings to open every door. Call me traitor, strip my name, Drive me from the wells of flame. Better exile, cold and scarred, Than peace beneath a slaver's guard. Not blood - but chains - we rise against, Not race, nor name, nor old descent. Ayleid hand in Nedic hand, We break the lash across the land. Let White-Gold hear what freedom means: No race is born to rule or kneel. I turn my blade on kings of mine - For mercy is the truer line. Their Daedric banners bruise the dawn, Their garden cries go on and on. Yet some of us remember still The older hymns, the gentler will. Aedra, witness what we choose: Our halls, our blood, our right to lose. When victory casts us from these plains, Let history know - we fought the chains. Perhaps no hearth will speak my name, Perhaps both sides will mark my shame. But freedom that excludes a face Only builds a brighter cage. So take my city, take my throne; I will walk the wilds alone. One truth shall outlive crown and wall: The chain on one will bind us all. Not blood - but chains - we rise against, Not race, nor name, nor old descent. Ayleid hand in Nedic hand, We break the lash across the land. Let White-Gold stand, but stand redeemed - No child shall feed a tyrant's dream. I leave my crown beneath the sky: No race condemned. No slave. No lie. The road of exile starts at dawn. The oath remains when I am gone.