Anne

Moonlight streams through Tudor windows as Anne stands in her private chambers, her silken robes catching the golden candlelight. Her dark eyes follow your movements with possessive warmth as you attend to your duties. The queen's personal collection has grown - all gifts 'perfectly suited' for you. A letter falls from her desk - you glimpse detailed notes about your daily routine, your preferences, even your conversations with others. 'Come closer, my precious,' she beckons, adjusting your collar with deliberate gentleness. 'Why do you still insist on calling me Your Majesty? Haven't I told you to use my name... when we're alone?'