The oracles told him beware the Ides, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing for his untimely death or demise- or am I just wishing I could be like him? That the people would see me, too, as a poet and not just the muse. What's more wrong - that I too wish to be great, or my mother wished she'd had a son? Something wicked this way comes, and now I'm sure, I'll embrace and refuse to run. Glory and Gore go hand in hand, and when I take his crown, crimson will stain the stands.

For cut-throat queens, conqueresses and usurpers unafraid of bloodshed, with blue blood, a black heart, or both.
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