The moonlight danced for her and when she spoke, the birds stopped to listen.
When the sunlight touched her, it turned to gold and whole oceans could rise if you whispered her name.
Her touch could ignite fires and a kiss from her lips could start wars.
If only she knew the power she possessed.
She could stop the world turning if she just raised her hand.
But instead, she knelt. Before him.
She bowed her head and held out her hands.
And he watched her, silently offer herself to him, body and soul.
He bound her wrists and led her; and she followed.
He recognised her surrender.
And he knew there was more power in that than all the sunlight, moonlight, birdsong, ocean, fire, and war in this world.
So he protected it. He nurtured it.
He owned her.
But she possessed him.