A Duel for her hand

What happens when a princess objects to being a trophy?- For writer's cramp 9/17/10

Hate and loathing, seen in their eyes,
“For the princess, we'd give our lives!”
So they say, but is it really?
My love they want, or a beautiful trophy?

Facing his rival, head upraised.
Standing stiff, he stares back unfazed.
“You both know the rules,” shouts the King.
“Last man standing gives my daughter a ring!”

They draw swords, shiny polished steel.
Their aim to make the other kneel.
Death or submission, they don't care.
As long as they hold my hand so fare.

Trumpets blow and the contest starts.
Rage is unleashed, logic departs.
They charge and shout guttural cries.
Prepared to face their own demise.

Back and forth each swings his sharp sword.
For the approval of their Lord.
Fed up with this contest I leave.
When they finish, let them grieve.

My opinion may not matter
But soon enough they'll all scatter
When they see the trophy they sought
Nows dead, they fought for naught
Killed myself, knife in gut