zdenek-50220598 @zdenek-50220598
My dear subject, I, Queen Ilsa, sit before you with a heavy heart and a quivering lip. As I gaze out at the vast expanse of the throne room, my thoughts are consumed by the treacherous fate that has befallen me. My once mighty empire lies in ruin, reduced to ashes by the cruel hand of our arch-nemesis.
With each passing moment, I can feel the weight of defeat bearing down upon me like a physical force. My kingdom, which was once the envy of all neighboring lands, now teeters on the brink of collapse. The screams and pleas of my loyal subjects still echo in my mind as they were taken from me by the enemy's merciless blades.
My hair, once a fiery mane that flowed like a river down my back, now grows dull and grey under the weight of sorrow. My beautiful Baroque dress, crafted by the finest artisans in the land, hangs limp and forlorn upon my frame. The emeralds that adorned my neck and ears sparkle with a faint light, a reminder of the glory days when I wore them with pride.
But now, as I sit on this throne, my crown seems to mock me - a constant reminder of my failure to protect my people. My lovely breasts, once plump and perky, have sagged under the strain of my current circumstances. The blue eyes that used to sparkle like sapphires in the sunlight now dimly shine with tears.
I fear
