Queen's White Woes
She sits upon her throne, a figure stark. The diadem presses down, a heavy weight of power. Her gaze are filled with a piercing despair, a mirroring of the turmoil that surrounds her. The fate have dealt a cruel hand, and she is left to accept the cost. She sings her blues, a melody of regret, a whisper carried on the wind. The White Queen is alone