There’s a line, a boundary carved into the frost that surrounds me. It’s not a fence or a wall; it’s a blade—a cold, sharp thing I carry for those who mistake my warmth for weakness.

I’m a queen. That’s not arrogance; it’s a fact. I lead with patience and a steady hand, offering warmth to those deserving. But the warmth is not infinite, and my patience isn’t an invitation for disrespect.

I’ve noticed how people like to cozy up to the fire, taking and taking until the flames burn low. They assume it will always be there, ready to thaw their cold intentions or heat up their empty motives. But the thing about fire is, once it’s extinguished, the cold takes over. And when I’m cold? I’m a whole other breed.

They call me an Ice Queen because when I cut, I don’t just sever ties—I freeze them where they stand. My sword is sharp, my decisions final. A rogue queen doesn’t cling to alliances that don’t serve her. I’m not here to beg for loyalty or bend to entitlement.

You don’t like the cold? Should’ve appreciated the warmth when you had it.

Here’s the truth: I’m as kind as I am cruel, as generous as I am ruthless. Respect keeps you on my good side. But step to me with some dumb shit—half-truths, manipulation, or just plain disrespect—and you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of my icy gaze.

The thing is, most people think queens don’t walk alone. They think power means a court full of jesters and advisors, everyone clinging to the throne for scraps of attention. But I’m not most queens. I’ve built my kingdom with my own hands. I don’t need to be surrounded to be sovereign. I’m not here to be liked, to soften my edges, or to play nice for the sake of diplomacy.

So, to anyone wondering where they stand with me, ask yourself this: Did you appreciate the fire while it burned? Or did you smother it with your own selfishness?

Because queens don’t waste their time with jesters. And this Ice Queen? She cuts, moves on, and never looks back.