Somewhere between reality and fantasy lies the hard truth about feudal vassalage. Contingency should have no place among the vicissitudes of Love. And yet, without fail, Love is withheld as a weapon by those who we allow into our sacred courtyards. Forgiveness, it would seem, takes no foothold in the realm of the disheartened. Nothing short of relentless perfection will suffice the needs of the Loving Tyrant. When they have been offended, they demand the maximum penalty. Fealty is expected, and if is not demonstrated with full obeisance, the Executioner is beckoned.
In the realm of the Expected there is no room for Insecurity. Courage and strength are expected at every challenge. At what point does the peon ask himself where they belong? Does courage entail blind obedience to the Throne? Should obedience be required as recompense in the Kingdom of Broken Dreams?
Can it be reasonably expected for strength to have endless bounds in the constitution of the Damaged? All Monarchies worship patrimony; blood is blood, and heredity conquers all. Queens divest not only their Title, but their temperament and patterns. Sons and Daughters - the carriers of their malignant behaviors, tempestuously swirl like the Maelstrom: as their vortexes of abuse swirl ever downward, leaving the seas broken with the wreckage of the Heart. Flotsam and Jetsam, Begotten and Bequeathed.
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