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“I believe we make our own destinies, every last one of us,” she’d told her mother last night. “Who leads us makes no difference.”
She was a sparrow in a gilded cage, taken out to show others how pretty and how well-behaved she was when needed. So she would be pretty and well-behaved. For now. But not forever.
It didn’t really matter who someone was, princess, peasant, rebel, or just a boy or a girl. Everyone mourned when their loved ones died.
Sometimes, to regain sanity, one had to acknowledge and embrace the madness.
“Evil is a choice one makes, not a natural state of being.”
But even the coldest hate can shift into something warmer if given enough time, just as an ugly caterpillar can turn into a beautiful butterfly.
