KaramelKarma
สแดษดแดสสส, แดกสแดสแด's แดส สแดแดแดษด sแดษชแด ?!
The grand hall was as silent as death itself, save for the crackle and popping of the fires nestled deep in their hearths. Light streamed gracefully from the tall, cathedral glass windows. High up in the air, crystals shivered slightly at the winter draft that nonetheless slipped through the ancient stone of the castle, giving out sweet clinking notes of joy as a figure clad in creamy white studded with golden accents and jewels glided beneath them. Every breath was held in awe and every eye wide with wonder as their long lost princess sovereign passed them.
Goosebumps plagued many in that procession; whether it be by sheer fascination or the chill itself, but none other suffered more than the princess herself. The gown was a beauty beyond compare, but when it came to the winter bite, it stood no chance. A shiver was beginning to form in the depths of her spine, but Snow White refused to let her discomfort show. She waited too long, battled too long, and suffered too long for this precise moment to let anything ruin it. With every step she took, Snow White felt her heart soar with confidence. She was prepared, she was poised; she was born and bred precisely for this moment. Nothing could stand in her way now.
She found herself in front of the throne. It was a majestic, looming beast of intricate gold and red velvet, carrying upon its shoulders the dignity and supremacy of hundreds rulers before her. With a silent nod from the head historian priest, Snow White, with the grace of much practice, picked up the two sacred items that sat neatly on the seat of the throne; the holy scepter of sovereignty with her family's symbol, the lion, at it's head as well as the holy book of grimm, blessed and ordained by the head historian himself. She turned around to face the masses, her breath hitching as she looked back at the hundreds of faces, taking her in as much as she was them. Some were faces of ordinary people of mild importance, others nobility and still others, kings and queens in their own right coming to fulfill tradition and swear fealty to the sovereign. As the head historian began to recite the pledges and oaths of old that Snow White had already memorized by heart, the young future ruler looked on at her future subjects with a growing knot of nervousness in her stomach. Suddenly, the previous bravado vanished into thin air; she began to really feel the weight of the scepter and the book. Sweat began to form, the goosebumps disappearing as a hotness began to take over. She flicked a glance at the throne. There had once sat her beloved but weak-willed father; a king in name only and puppet to all, serving one and only mistress. Snow White rapidly brought her eye back to the crowd. Her expression solidified, emotional scars burning at the memory of her childhood torment. No, she would not let thoughts of that wicked woman poison this.
As Snow White gazed on, a particular face at the front caught her eye. It was a face that could calm any and all her storms, with eyes that emanated admiration and encouragement and lips that spoke of wisdom, love, passion and most importantly, a future together. As those lips slipped into an encouraging charming smile, Snow White felt resolve and confidence flood back into her bones. She closed her eyes as the droning stopped and the weight of ultimate sovereignship was placed upon her head.
The collective breath and tension released as a joyous ruckus erupted into the atmosphere. Snow White turned and faced her destiny and her birthright once more and sat down, her heart swelling with satisfaction and joy.
"Regina Nix Alba!" they chanted her name in the tongue of their ancestors. Finally, the rightful ruler had ascended the sovereign throne. Finally, a future stood before them full of hope, full of certainty, full of life itself.
Goosebumps plagued many in that procession; whether it be by sheer fascination or the chill itself, but none other suffered more than the princess herself. The gown was a beauty beyond compare, but when it came to the winter bite, it stood no chance. A shiver was beginning to form in the depths of her spine, but Snow White refused to let her discomfort show. She waited too long, battled too long, and suffered too long for this precise moment to let anything ruin it. With every step she took, Snow White felt her heart soar with confidence. She was prepared, she was poised; she was born and bred precisely for this moment. Nothing could stand in her way now.
She found herself in front of the throne. It was a majestic, looming beast of intricate gold and red velvet, carrying upon its shoulders the dignity and supremacy of hundreds rulers before her. With a silent nod from the head historian priest, Snow White, with the grace of much practice, picked up the two sacred items that sat neatly on the seat of the throne; the holy scepter of sovereignty with her family's symbol, the lion, at it's head as well as the holy book of grimm, blessed and ordained by the head historian himself. She turned around to face the masses, her breath hitching as she looked back at the hundreds of faces, taking her in as much as she was them. Some were faces of ordinary people of mild importance, others nobility and still others, kings and queens in their own right coming to fulfill tradition and swear fealty to the sovereign. As the head historian began to recite the pledges and oaths of old that Snow White had already memorized by heart, the young future ruler looked on at her future subjects with a growing knot of nervousness in her stomach. Suddenly, the previous bravado vanished into thin air; she began to really feel the weight of the scepter and the book. Sweat began to form, the goosebumps disappearing as a hotness began to take over. She flicked a glance at the throne. There had once sat her beloved but weak-willed father; a king in name only and puppet to all, serving one and only mistress. Snow White rapidly brought her eye back to the crowd. Her expression solidified, emotional scars burning at the memory of her childhood torment. No, she would not let thoughts of that wicked woman poison this.
As Snow White gazed on, a particular face at the front caught her eye. It was a face that could calm any and all her storms, with eyes that emanated admiration and encouragement and lips that spoke of wisdom, love, passion and most importantly, a future together. As those lips slipped into an encouraging charming smile, Snow White felt resolve and confidence flood back into her bones. She closed her eyes as the droning stopped and the weight of ultimate sovereignship was placed upon her head.
The collective breath and tension released as a joyous ruckus erupted into the atmosphere. Snow White turned and faced her destiny and her birthright once more and sat down, her heart swelling with satisfaction and joy.
"Regina Nix Alba!" they chanted her name in the tongue of their ancestors. Finally, the rightful ruler had ascended the sovereign throne. Finally, a future stood before them full of hope, full of certainty, full of life itself.
