Born from my love of Camelot and King Arthur.
I was King for that time when I was with the sorceress, and though she called herself my Queen, she was not the one born to rule the world beside me. I was King, and no one, not even she though she'd never admit it, could best me, no one could beat me down.
Except him, Ice and rightly called the Prince of it. Squall Leonhart, a knight almost worthy of myself and perhaps, perhaps worthy to share my throne in the new world I must create.
It has been my "romantic dream", this new world, though I'd rather call it my Camelot. There was a King, long ago, a king called Arthur. He ruled a far away (and no doubt mythical) country, and his kingdom was just and fair and true, filled with Knights and bravery and singing poets. He is the hero of the epics, the man that is little more than a poem and a story and a name on the lips of a mother telling stories.
That was Camelot, a dream away, but so near within my grasp. He was King of a romantic, fanciful dream, as was I; but of the two of us, I am stronger, I will bring my dream to life. He is called the Once and Future King, and so am I; King for a moment, too soon toppled, but soon to return.
I went the wrong way about it, the first time, but the dream is still within me, in my bones and my blood, that I will be King and I must rule. And beside me, no Queen, but a Knight to equal me; Squall Leonhart. I will wreck havoc and distruction upon this world; I will be a disaster and one to fear. Fire and brimstone, angel's retribution; this time I will truly bend the world to my purpose.
He will resist, of course, protect this sordid and pathetic world. But I have to teach him, reach him, show him my dream. Only the worthy can rule in Camelot, and he, for all his ice, for all his defiance, is worthy. No matter how hot the hellfire I scorch the world with, he will not melt.
I will destroy his world and from the ashes, it will rise, and with it he shall rise, a phoenix from the flames and ice untouched; Camelot.