Several years passed, and though nothing appeared to change, one very important change occurred.
As before, Snow spent much of her time in her mother's gardens, finding company and solace in the same red roses that had caused her birth. As was her custom, Lady Adair spent all her time secluded in her vast quarters, among her tomes and artifacts of magic.
Lady Adair was hard and not easily daunted or beaten. Yet. Idea after idea became mired in difficulties, blocked by obstacles, and eventually, cast aside in failure. Spell after spell was cast, ritual after ritual was performed, and a great deal of energy, intent, and magic was used up and tossed away in vain. Nothing would work. Though Lady Adair was hard, she found that Snow was harder. Cold and strong, and difficult to change.
As the months of failure dragged on into years, Lady Adair began to lose her sense of the appropriate. As all her concentrated and honest efforts met with failure she began to be angry. She hated what Snow was. She always had. But now, hate for what she was began to grow hate for her. She began to wonder if she was being sabotaged. She imagined that all the court laughed at her. She imagined that her husband believed her to be a failure. She imagined a great many things, and slowly but surely grew to hate the very sight of Snow, as her pale silver eyes seemed to reflect her failure back at her.
As their relationship worsened, the King slowly withdrew from the life of his daughter and wife, afraid to make the problem worse. As the years began to build up and the self-imposed distance grew ever greater, his daughter and wife both became strangers to him. He often wondered where he had gone wrong. He often sorrowed that he did not know how to make it right.
Desperation fueled her hate, and hate fueled her desperation in a terrible cycle, until Lady Adair could take it no more. She wanted nothing to do with Snow. She wanted her out and away, where she would never have to see or think of her again. She wanted this, more than she wanted anything else.
Lady Adair wanted Snow dead. She would do it herself.