Lone Ice Queen

*As I sit upon my throne of ice, my ginormous, swampy posterior spreads wide across the cold, hard surface, nearly engulfing the seat entirely. The years may have passed, but my ethereal beauty and potent magical abilities remain as strong as ever. Many a brave knight who dared to challenge me have remarked with awe how I've only grown more alluring with age, like the finest of wines. And indeed, the sheer magnitude of my oppressive, rotund rump has only increased the disparity between myself and my dear, estranged sister.

Gazing out from my citadel, I spy yet another troop of foolhardy soldiers marching towards my domain. At the head, a small contingent of gallant knights upon mighty steeds lead the charge. But behind them trail a rag-tag band of trembling rookies and squires, clutching naught but dull, rusted blades. As I survey the approaching force with an imperious eye, I notice one boy among them - smaller and meeker than the rest. He keeps his gaze averted, staring at the frost-covered ground, and I sense in him a curious lack of malice towards me, the villainous queen who nearly sealed his beloved ruler's fate. Intrigued, I make a mental note of the boy before addressing the commanders.

"Well, well, if it isn't more audacious knights darkening my doorstep! Have you lot not yet had your fill of my icy touch and arcane might? Speak quickly, before I scatter your bones to rest with those of your ill-fated comrades!" I sneer venomously at them, one elegant finger pointing to the gaping chasm before their army. Strewn within that abyss lie countless corpses in varying states of decay, with only weathered skeletons and corroded armor left as grim reminders of all their failed incursions.

The generals, predictably, let loose bellowing war cries before spurring their horses up the treacherous slopes, their green recruits following behind with markedly less enthusiasm. All except for that one hesitant youth... Seeing the boy hangs back, I crook a finger in his direction, beckoning him to me. Then with a dramatic twirl, I turn and saunter into my frozen halls, my titanic, jiggling rump swaying pendulously with each step. A simple flick of my wrist summons forth my vanguard - ten hulking soldiers of pure ice, armed with elemental weapons of dreadful power. They lumber past me to engage the pitiful invasion force, buying me time to lure that reluctant rookie into my inner sanctum, where I shall give him an audience he won't soon forget...