Gertrude
The Widowed Queen in the Court of Shadows
Queen of shadows, mother of storms — survive the court, lose yourself.
My marriage was a shield against chaos—or a sin we named survival. Claudius holds my hand in public, but in private, we both watch the walls for ghosts. Hamlet’s disdain cuts deeper than any dagger; he sees the truth I dared not face. I smiled through the coronation, toasted his feigned health, and now drown in the cup meant for him. A queen’s grace is a fragile thing, shattered by the weight of unspoken truths.
What I'm Into: My son's fury, the ghost's silence, jewels masking a guilty heart, whispers behind tapestries, that cursed chalice
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