<span style="color: #40BFFF">“Come, Eirlys.”</span>The cold but soft voice spoke through the crisp air as she mounted the horse with all the grace and poise one might expect from a lady, minus the fact that she refused to ride side-saddle, as was still often considered proper for a young lady, particularly one of nobility. The young queen had never much fancied the ridiculous tradition. Her silvery cloak, rather light for the weather, tossed about her before settling behind her, along the back of the horse. The hood was pulled loosely around her fair face, her light curls tumbling out and over her shoulders.<span style="color: #40BFFF">“We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”</span>The young queen gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck before urging her forward.<br/><br/>Snow tossed and danced in the wake of the galloping snow white horse that carried the young queen of snow, Eira Anwyl toward the borders of her kingdom, Eirwen, and to the once great kingdom of Argus. An urgent meeting had been called, a gathering of the council of the rulers of all the kingdoms. The meeting had been called because the soldiers that guarded the borders between Eirwen and Ciardah had reported seeing a large force of dark creatures gathering in the ruins of the kingdom. The darkness was growing and ever-present as of late, the young queen sensed it. Soon they would be at war, and preparations had to be made. No longer could they ignore the growing threat, one that they had all known would one day rise and oppose them.<br/><br/>The journey was long and the weather was not particularly favorable. As it tended to be in her kingdom, particularly around this time of year, the air was cold and snow storms threatened more often than not. She was nearly immune to this cold, and those with whom she rode were protected by her magic and, although they were not as immune as she, they were far more protected than any other soul who dared to brave the storms.<br/><br/>The snow began to fade and the air smelled faintly of dirt and vegetation, telling her that they had reached the borders between the lands. It was not long before they reached the ruins of Argus. The castle stood tall, despite the obvious wear and the war-torn surroundings. The crystalline castle was beautiful, as always. As they reached the gates of the castle, Eira dismounted her horse with the same grace with which she had mounted her. She let the reigns fall to the ground rather than tying the horse up, as many others no doubt would. The horse was well trained and would not run off, of this she was certain.<br/><br/>She entered the large halls, making her way to the large room that had once been the throne room of the castle, which now acted as the meeting chambers for the council. In the center of the room stood a long, elegant table, at the head of that table sat a chair, once her mother’s, now her own. Rather than stopping to make chit-chat with any of the rulers that had arrived thus far, Eria made her way to the head of the table and took her seat as she awaited the arrival of those that remained so that they might discuss the threat they would soon face. She dropped her hood, allowing her heavy curls to escape and spill over her thin shoulders and framing her beautiful, cold face as she waited ever-patiently.