Anne Tudor died on the eve of St. Michael's Day in 1554 at Blenheim Palace and was laid to rest under the cold loose floor of Westminster Abbey.
She turned around, the warm flames of the fireplace reflected the pale face of Death in the green eyes, and a low sigh flowed slowly in the messy funeral shop, "Marie-Antoinette died on the bloody gallows in the cheers of the crowd in the 18th century. She was too young, arrogant, and didn't know that the gorgeous gift of fate concealed a heavy price -
"I thought you would understand that the small human soul is always entangled with tragedy, but you still imprisoned me here, trying to make the Tudor princess of noble and pure blood lower her supposed crowned head to this changing century. It is really stupid. "
The silver-haired Death listened to the wails and prayers from the burning of Versailles after the Bastille Rebellion, and he never saw a soul as mean and greedy as the arrogant beheaded queen. Until the night when the people of Britain mourned the long-dead autocratic Prince Albert, the princess of the old days who had been forgotten by God knelt in front of the sacred statue of Jehovah and prayed devoutly.
"I swear to you by the disappearing crown of Tudor and my eternally pure bloodline that the truth of the century will be immortal and the glory of the empire will never fall. "
The reserved pride embellished with Tudor roses and the brilliance of Hanover bring mysterious blessings to the Elizabeth Tower under the silver moon. The God of Death and the Princess look back at the devastated England under the wheel of history on the decaying London Bridge.
It is Xiaosheng's honor to meet you on the empty and boring journey of eternal life. Your noble and arrogant princess
Concept: Life's reflections on death