A GAME OF MISFITS

You don’t want to do it.

You. Don’t. Want. To. Do. It.

But you’re going to. 

He won’t leave the room until you do.

Why must you always cave to these men, submit to their wants, their needs, their desires, their fears? 

You know the answer. All you need to do is catch your reflection.

It doesn’t matter how powerful your portraits show you; the mirror always slaps you in the face with the raw truth. Under layers of powder, gold, lace, and velvet, the one still looking back at you is the bastard, the woman: a misfit under the heavy crown.

So you reach for the poison quill and sign what they want, what they tell you is necessary. For you to keep your crown and your head, someone else must die. Another woman. Another queen. Another misfit.

▪️▪️▪️