[Laertes]

There is a Red King, and he is terrible and he is tall. He wears a red crown. The long red years have made him strange and he hides from the sun, sleeping, his strange dreams making unseen days stranger. Sleeping, he dreams of ruin and of distortion— of an Antiland, reversed and red.
When he opens his red eyes in the red night there is his red land: it is inverted, rigid, and wrong.

There is a cruel Heart Queen: she is in a different castle and she is on a different mountain and she sleeps in a different wooden box but she is also hiding and dreaming. She dreams into being a world unending, unbeginning, with wonder and murder, disruption and unreason.
And melancholy green gardens. And it is there now. And hers.