I have limitations now,
as surely mortals must:
I cannot bend leaves into crisp dollar bills
I cannot make the oceans slave to my iron whim
My anger cannot fuel the thunderstorms;
my whistle cannot part blankets of fog on your roads.
When I wave my hand in anger,
your blood won't freeze inside your veins--
if I murmur Immevesteria, time will soldier on, oblivious
I don't need secrets to be clever,
don't need powers to be magic,
don't need a crown to be a Queen.
If I keep my shoulders back,
my sharp chin high,
my movements slow
if my voice is soft and gentle
if my cries become commanding
it isn't for a legion
or for River Country's intrigue--
it's for her.
Her.
I don't need secrets to be clever,
for I've told her every one.
I don't need powers to be magic;
she's the only spell I need.
I don't need a crown for to be Queen
with her fingers in my hair.
Keep your races, fangs and talons
keep your laws and sharp traditions
keep the drops of my blood on your handkerchief---
but no cry will draw me hence.
I need not charm to become charming,
need not beauty for a beauty to see--
I have limitations now,
as surely mortals must.
As surely mortals must.
And it's worth it.
