The roars intensified. Soon, the king came down from his high throne. He whip his golden robes and throw his daughter a sideway glance, silently telling her to come down and stand by his side.
Yet she stubbornly, purposely not look his way. She continued to sit at her throne, dignified to the point of being stiff. The royal guard, Cielo, slid to her back and said something. From this distance, the king can tell what words Cielo said.
He's chiding her to come down. Repeating the same words over and over until Ava can't take his repeated nonsense and glared in Cielo's direction. She stood up. Bowed to her mother once before coming down to join her father.
All eyes followed her every step. The way her robes leave fluttering traces of white as if a trail of snow is coming out of her sleeves. She herself is as pure and fair as the snow that covered their lands. Stubborn to the point of being cold. Persisting to the point of freezing skin.
