She’s lost in the woods and has dirt under her fingernails, exiled by the bitter and the old who looked into her like she was a mirror and could not stand the sight. Her hair is long and curls beneath the sun like a crown. She sleeps the poison sleep and dreams of flying free. She loves, wholly and unashamed, so deeply that she thinks it might consume her. She knows in her heart that this is what makes her mighty, and she will fight tooth and nail for it; she will use every dirty trick in the book, she will use magic and lips painted pink and the beauty and wisdom given her by a long line of wild queens. She is noble, by birth and nature, and birds come to her call, for all the creatures of the wild, all the true, unsullied beings of the earth adore her for the delight and desire alight in her soul. She is defined by her love; but it is she who defines what her love is, and what she would do with the vast power of it. She will come in from the wild, into the palace - perhaps hand in hand with her prince, perhaps standing tall and alone - and with her grace she will reignite a kingdom.