righteousindignation | one plus the square root of five over two

in philosophy, the golden mean is the desirable middle between two extremes, one of excess and one of deficiency.

--

Mathematics or philosophy, what it came down to was the party wanting the title, and they believed it best suited their values. Moderation, beauty, truth. A balancing act rather than shirking away or becoming overconfident. At least, that was the line they fed out to impressionable young minds.

She joined as soon as she could, because they did not crush her idealism but tempered it into something that was known as an ideal and yet could be a goal. They loved her for it, and she loved them.

--

She did not want to be a candidate. And yet, it was spoken, her unwillingness was exactly why she was perfect-those that actively sought out potential power were those they needed to watch out for and keep down from actual power lest they become tyrants.

Please, they asked. Please be our potential.

Like years before, the words were too sweet to ignore, and the Party of the Golden Mean had their player in the game of succession.

--

Wasn't the symbolism heavy-handed, she asked. Was it really necessary to have this happen to promote their views?

Of course it was, of course it was excessive. But no one ever got anywhere by whispering when your enemies were shouting from the rooftops. A new look for her potential new name, styling her and teaching her graces she will need.

She shuts her eyes and dyes her dark hair blonde.

--

The war is over, and they are left standing. Some have been killed, others withdrew their claims, still some left the empire entirely.

The crowd chants Lady Lovelace and she smiles for them.

For all that her party wants to do, for all they want to use her, she is not entirely under their thumb. Naturally she'll work for their ideals, but if it conflicts with what's best for the Empire as a whole...

It's her name they're chanting, not that of the party. She loves them, she knows this already, she loves them because they love her in spite of all her shortcomings. All she has to do is raise her hand and they fall silent, awaiting what she will say.

This is power, she realizes in some deep corner of herself.

This is what she does not wish to possess for herself, but she will bear for the sake of every soul within her borders. (And yes, they are hers now, as they had been her predecessor's, and they forever belong to the people.) They are her servants and she is theirs.

Ada Lovelace lowers her hand and greets her people.

--

Her realization of the extent of what she can actually do rises toward the surface when she receives a certain set of military plans.

No, she says, I don't like this at all.

See reason, they tell her, it's required.

I will not allow it.

And she storms off, knowing she's being childish but unwilling to compromise for something so senseless.

They say nothing but the attack is called off, she hears, because she vetoed it.

She can say what they do if she so pleases, she realizes, and Lovelace spends the next hour hugging her knees to her chest and thinking in the shade before she calls for the same people she walked out on, to thank them for respecting her wishes.

No need, milady, as you command. Still she graces them with her smile and her favor, and she considers in the way she had learned to consider by watching the party leaders and listening.

This power makes her feel giddy as much as it makes her feel afraid.

--

{queen midas, her touch her love her purity they dress her in gold and her core is steel for as much alchemy as you enact she never is as malleable as they think, she chooses and she has her own sense of self

she recruits her enemies to spare their lives and keep them close, she smiles and would smile when shooting someone in the head if it matters to help the empire

she is the embodiment of their hope and the revolution's despair

things are beautiful because though it takes more work it makes you happier to look at, and love does not bloom in a sterile landscape, there has to be something to latch onto.

should you worship her or tolerate her, she never speaks on the subject and it is thought that those around her are the ones who actually reign, careful schemers to her dreamer

they created someone more intense than they intended, she put it in practice and realized that for all they would she could go further, do more fly faster jump higher, gold dust glimmering in the breeze} (refine this whole section)

isn't it always