There are some types of fortress who greet a foreign invader with open arms—"with open legs" would be more appropriate perhaps—that would make Iago seem like a gentleman to some, discarding their allies, their nationalities of birth and even their own identities to brandish foreign ensigns and turn back against their former allies. As they adopt foreign and exotic ideas, on a different aspect, they adopt foreign elements in order to fit in with the rest of their new group, but as if they were trying to mix forcefully oil and water; the result is rather absurd: flamboyant feather with pajama; high-heels with plated mail; sunglasses with greatcoat, etc. The attempt to blend opposing natures always fail miserably and delivers a comical relief to the serious nature of the affair, ladling out an ocean of ridicules big enough to freshen up the most dreadful of atmospheres. When asked for support, her Majesty dares to send back her sinful demander with disdain, unless her Majesty deems her deed will favor her foreign guests. This hatred for her own people and the unmatched love for her foreign "knights" do not go unnoticed, as in the heat of gossip are described fastidiously the famous orgies in which her Majesty indulges herself, and the meals she prepares for her guests wherein her royal appetite unscrupulously digs into the guests themselves. Do not lend your eyes to her; do not make her feel like she is a Queen, for she is the Queen of none. Let her contemptuous nonchalance have its way, for she is likely to end up drowning in her own shallowness.

Not to mention she's also likely to drown in a cesspool of her own STD's.