Black and White.
The world could be divided in dichotomies, one's reflection and the true self. However, who was to say that what lay in front of them was not their true self? The King and Queen were counterparts, standing side by side—each one incomplete without their other half.
Newly crowned and alone within the crowd of strangers, Rosalyn Lockhart drank to her heart's contents. She was drowning with just a few cups.
Steel her heart.
Ignore the hole within it.
She smiled and nodded, exchanged words with men and women much older than her—their "advice" and "wisdom" granted to her on how to rule a Kingdom properly. The young Queen accepted it all with a humble nod, she felt as if she was in a room full of cards. Yes they were all a pack of cards, if she could tumble them down then she could. That was the only ease that prevailed in her chest and mind.
Deeper and deeper.
