𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 ✶ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊

FORTY-NINE

"Now, go run yourself a hot bath and take your time. We'll talk more when you're finished,"

Winter nodded, standing from Sitara's bed and making her way across the room to where she knew the bathroom to be. Although Winterfell was raised with rooms and bathrooms of such a grand scale, after being at school for the past few months and growing accustomed to the size of the bathroom and rooms there, she was again taken off guard by Sitara's bathroom.

The size was grand, with a giant tub in the middle and a shower wall to the right. A small carriage of towels and other amenities spread around the bathroom. It was surely the size of her entire dorm room. Winter shook her head with a smile, closing the door behind her and strolling to the large tub.

She hummed before running the water, making sure that it was hot enough to leave her skin just slightly pink. Winterfell lay in the bath for an hour, simply thinking casual easy thoughts to herself and resting her eyes.

When she got out she made sure to dry herself well before wrapping the towel around her and exiting Sitara's bathroom. Sitara was standing by her window that overlooked the main front courtyard of the Arendellian castle. Her breath caught as she gazed upon her uncle Jack messing around with Soren and Alexar.

Elsa stood idly by with Anna and Kristoff laughing at the scene.

Soren had finally gained the courage to tell his parents about Alexar (apparently Jack already knew somehow, both he and Elsa were shocked to find the other already knew and they both did not tell each other). Anna and Kristoff were, of course, only happy for their son (just as Sitara had been telling him) although they were not happy to find that Soren and Alexar had defiled nearly every inch of the castle.

The story of how Winterfell found out only made Anna scold them and Jack to fall into hysterics. It was a memory that Sitara would cherish, like many that involved her family.

She looked out the window feeling slightly guilty as she knew how much their family missed Winterfell, and not to tell them that she was within the same vicinity. But not now, more chaos is not what Winterfell needed.

And so, Sitara drew her curtains before turning around to face her younger cousin.

Winterfell was puckering her lips curiously, "what's going on out there?" She asked.

"Nothing of importance," Sitara waved away before motioning to her body that was only covered by a towel, "but you, on the other hand, need to fashion yourself some new garments? What're we thinking?"

Winterfell hummed, "can't I just borrow some of yours?"

Sitara gasped as though that was the most outrageous thing she had ever heard. "Do you know how many people would die to have the power to create their own clothes from thin air? Make yourself useful and let your imagination run wild ... give me something that just screams Winterfell,"

Winterfell scoffed but could not argue with her. It was quite a convenient skill to have.

Dropping the towel Winter allowed her magic to coat her. Now -- pause, because here is the thing that even Winterfell herself forgets more than frequently. She is -- quite literally -- the Winter Princess. Winterfell has an actual attire that she usually only wears on occasion; however, for some reason, it was the only thing she could think of.

The short dress made entirely of snow magic was whiter than even some of the freshest fallen snow that Jack himself had brought to Arendelle for the cold season. It is strapless and short, and the bottom flares out in a tutu-styled fashion, ice and gems sprinkling over Winterfell's right shoulder. Her legs are covered with white skin-tight stockings that are adorned with sparkling gems wrapping around her ankles.