You know your own mind far better than you know your heart, and perhaps that is because you believe one useful and one useless. It takes a certain numbness to be Queen of a whole Kingdom. Takes a certain outlook to control despair so well that you appear to have just the right amount to believably mourn your parents and still prove capable. You’ve been through so many trials and conquered them with ease, because your mind takes prisoners, your heart’s just a disease. Your instincts have been honed from such a youthstruck age, from orphan to a princess, a road that was self-made. So when it comes official time to place crown upon your head, you’ll know you were a Queen from birth, a force to reckon with instead.
In all this you may find it trite that heart was not imbued, with armour or with urgency, to love it should refuse. And still you know in all of this you are monarch by trade, a conman and a butterfly, a lie of brighter shade. Spare a thought for your poor subjects, whose minds you do control, for you’re the one that holds the reign, the one that tricked so well. And maybe it is right, you know, you are the better choice, you’ll take the hard knocks as they come, you’ll give each man a voice. And when you’ve settled into throne you’ll find yourself relieved, because, dear mind, hubris is my name, and there’s no finer friend than me. Stay steady on your feet, my dear, they say the first strike’s free.