Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married a new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him
I want you to share my tent. I want you to pour my wine, laugh at my jokes, rub my legs when they are sore after a day's ride.
We flooded the gutters with wine, smashed the false idols, and set the godless on the run
Oh, the gods won't mind. They've spilled more blood than the rest of us combined