Two monarchs cross paths dancing around eachother. With words so airy, one should know to be wary of what will be said next.
"How does your son fair?" "Fairs as well as yours I presume." "Yours always had a knack for flair." "Yours always could wow a room."
Disguised insults spoken. Each compliment flapped away with wings that carry the monarch to their next test. Where they'll see which flowers they like best. To gather in support of their queens.
"You know what would be tragic?" "Why do you continue to speak?" "If a son were to fall to magic, before his heart could take a beat."
The two monarchs parted ways. Promises rolling off their tongues as sweet as the nectar they drank. But were designed to attack the other's rank. Their success depends on the other's defeat.
Conversation stalls as the monarchs fly home. On wings decorated so finely. Each of their thoughts seem to turn towards their sons Just caterpillars before their transformations. Weaving their chrysalis with determination.
Though they're far apart the monarchs speak the same words
"I fear for you, my son, in this great world, Our reign can never last for long. But I wish for you to have your chance To encapture the world in a trance With a grace bestowed upon your wings I wish for you to make others sing. For I've seen the tragedy of the other king Just before transformation I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis."