#gwynrielweeks

“Are you alright, you’ve been standing there for a while now.” 

She quickly turned around, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. To her utmost relief, she didn’t see a maid wandering around for some late evening chores, but rather she met eyes that were the same shade of teal as her own. 

“Catrin,” Gwyn let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging and back hunching, “you scared the me for a second.” 

Her sister shook her head with a laugh, “You’re always off daydreaming in your own little world. Soon you’ll have me agreeing with mother that those books you’re reading really are causing you to have hallucinations.” 

“Oh please,” Gwyn replied with a roll of her eyes, “she will find any reason for me to not read or sing or have any fun at all. Besides, I was just enjoying the view. It’s not often that the evening sky is so clear during this time of year.” 

“Maybe mother has a point,” Catrin hesitantly said. “I’m leaving tomorrow, you know? It’ll be just you two here from now on. It may be best to start taking things a little more seriously.” 

A frown came upon Gwyn’s face as she was reminded of the reason why she was so far in thought in the first place. 

In less than a day, her sister would leave to be married to Prince Azriel of the Night Kingdom not for love, but for their country. Because as much as she wished she could bury her face in a book and forget about the world around her, Gwyn could not hide from the fact that Sangravah, her kingdom, her tiny nation, her home, was entangled in a war. 

“I don’t see the point in this marriage to begin with,” she bitterly spat out, “why couldn’t we just forge an actual alliance between our two countries rather than having you wed to some man you’ve barely even met.” 

“You know as well as I do Gwyn, that a simple alliance will not stop Hybern’s forces.” Catrin replied, “An actual marriage with the joining of our two countries will read as a much clearer message, but more importantly a warning to them that an attack on us is an attack on the Night Kingdom  as well.” 

Gwyn loathed the fact that her sister’s logic made perfect sense.

The kingdom of Hybern was but a sea away from Sangravah and for decades there was tension between the nations as they battled for ownership of the waters, however it was with the death of the King of Sangravah by a Hybern arrow that made all hell break loose. No one would have thought that something as simple as a daily sail on the waters would lead to such a horrible outcome, least of all Gwyn who had been nowhere near ready to say goodbye to her father. 

The sounds of her mothers screams still echoed in her mind but it was the rage in her eyes as the Queen of Sangravah declared war against Hybern for the death of not only the king, but her husband that will forever lay imprinted in Gwyn’s mind. Never in her life had she seen such grief or vengeance consume someone’s entire being, least of all from the woman who had raised her. 

She had begged her mother to let her join in the battles. While Catrin had gotten most of her mothers features with her black hair, cutting eyes, and mind that seemed to view the world as a chess board, Gwyn took after her father. They had the same freckles and copper brown hair, the same spirit which longed to be at sea, and the same heart which beat faster with the clang of a blade. It was her father who had read that first story to Gwyn, who showed her how to parry and counter, who had helped her forge her own sword, and it was her father who Gwyn had longed to avenge. 

Her mother had refused her. 

No matter how much she screamed or pleaded, her mother was adamant that the battlefield was no place for her and Gwyn was ordered to remain on place grounds at all times. She complied. After all, a princess is still under the command of the queen. Things had been rocky between the two of them ever since and it certainly didn’t help that less than a month ago she had decided that Catrin, the one person who Gwyn knew better than anyone else, who had been there by her side since she came out of the womb, who was her sister, her twin, her blood, was to be wed to a prince of another nation in hopes of more military and political power. 

“Even so,” Gwyn countered, “you should have been able to at least have your own say in who your husband could be. Mother should have allowed you to properly meet with high ranking lords or dukes, not just ship you off to whomever.” 

“There is no stronger message than marrying a prince, a highly respected one at that.” 

“He’s more of a ghost than a prince and even you can’t deny it.” 

Gwyn has learned many things about the Night Kingdom. With them being Sangravah closest neighboring country, she had spent many days in her adolescence reading books upon books about their political and economic power in the world. 

Their military is unmatched due to the sheer size and brute force that it has. Prince Cassian, the second eldest son, is the general of their armies and from the books that she has read, there has not been a single battle that he has not been victorious. The youngest of the three brothers, Rhysand is the king and is highly revered in the land for his silver tongue and hypnotic aura, with many who have conversed with the royal to have almost fallen under a spell from how easily his words worm their way into their minds. Under King Rhysand and Queen Feyre’s rule in the past five years, the Night Kingdom has seen prosperity and wealth like no other. 

However it is Prince Azriel, the eldest son, that has a reputation far more sinister than his brothers. He’s hardly ever seen at any social gathering or appearances and the rumors which surround such a character are none too pleasant, with many saying that just locking eyes with him will freeze your soul from the inside out. It is said that he has ears in every room and eyes on every wall, which he then uses to twist and bend you to his will. Gwyn could scarcely find any information about him in the many books she had scoured through and that made her all the more upset. Not just because she was missing the knowledge she so desperately craved, but because Prince Azriel, the ghost, the shadow, the unknown and hidden royal, was the one her sister was to be married to. 

“There is no changing the past Gwyn,” Catrin replied bluntly, “and we should consider ourselves blessed by the Mother that the Night Kingdom even accepted the alliance and marriage to begin with.” 

Gwyn’s mouth snapped shut as she couldn’t even argue such a blatant fact. The Night Kingdom is the closest one to Sangravah, with the two nations often exchanging resources and there were even specific trade routes made just so that materials could be brought across the border more efficiently, but there was no doubt that her kingdom was drawing the long straw in this make-shift allyship. With the size of their territory to the sheer command they have over many other countries, the Night kingdom could have easily dismissed Sangravah, past trade deals or not. 

Some part of Gwyn still can’t fathom how her mother was able to make a deal with such a kingdom in the first place. When the engagement had first been announced, she had all but thrown open the doors of the Queen’s study, demanding to know why and how this was happening. In response, Gwyn had gotten nothing more than a, “In due time you will understand, but right now you are far too young to even realize the different pieces and people at play.” 

“What good is it to be blessed if the life you are set to live is one that could be even worse than the one we currently have?” Gwyn argued, “How are we to know that they will even hold up their end of the bargain?” 

“It is a chance we have to take,” Catrin shot back, her black brows pulled together in growing annoyance, “and we both know that this was to be expected of me. I am heir to our kingdom and I will do what I must in order to ensure that our people have a life of peace that they have been deprived of since this god awful war started. If marrying some prince I’ve never met and half the world had never heard of is what makes that possible then so be it.” 

It was times like this that Gwyn couldn’t help but feel a mix of envy and pride of having Catrin as a sister. Because unlike her, Catrin didn’t just know the life that came with being a princess, but had no hesitation in living it out. 

She was almost a carbon copy of their mother. The same midnight black hair, clear pale skin, and an iron will that gave even the weakest the strength to keep going. Catrin was strong, smart, charming even, especially when it came to forging new alliances or cementing past loyalties, there was not a single person in Sangravah who did not love or adore her. She was every bit what a crown princess should be.

Meanwhile, Gwyn would rather hide in the library or the crystile waters of the Sangravah sea than face the court or her country. Her parents had long since given up on their youngest daughter finding an interest in politics or the pressing matters of the nation, instead they relied on her for information on other kingdoms or to talk with the townspeople on ways to improve their cities, all of which were tasks that she had no opposal in doing. For Gwyn was terrified of nothing more than potentially being the reason that her country was to fail or fall. 

It was much easier to read through the history books and analyze past battles and techniques to win wars than to create the plan to execute during the war, or to talk to her people and hear their concerns than delegate funds and see which cities need it the most, pushing off the other concerns as a later issue to deal with later. It was easier for Gwyn to slip away into the water or her reading nook, ignoring the world and their problems, than have to stand in front of her sister, her mother, and her country, and wait for the moment where she makes one misstep and ruins them all. 

With a resigned sigh, Gwyn stood up and stepped a few paces before pulling Catrin into a hug, “You are a far braver person than I.” 

Her sister let out a soft laugh before pulling her closer, “You say that as if you don’t have the abilities to be the same.” 

“I will not kid myself into believing that I could be.” 

Catrin pulled away to level her with a sharp stare, matching teal eyes locking, “You are Gwyneth Berdara, daughter of King Alun and Queen Cordelia, Princess of Sangravah, and my twin sister. I know for a fact that there is not a sea on this Earth that could break you.” 

Gwyn felt tears spring into her eyes. “How the hell, I supposed to survive with you gone?” 

Her sister let out a sad laugh, “I’m only a country away. Not even a day's ride away.” 

“Now come,” Catrin said while gathering her skirts, “I need you to help me pick which gowns to take with me to the Night Kingdom. 

~

A heavy sigh left Gwyn’s lips as she crawled under her covers. 

“Who knew clothes could weigh so much?” She mumbled to herself. 

Every muscle in her body ached after helping Catrin pack all of her dresses, garments, and gowns into trunks for tomorrow and Gods, even training sessions were less of a pain than that was. 

With a huff Gwyn curled into a ball and slowly started to drift off, when a thump from outside caught her attention. She paused for a moment, waiting to hear any other movement but the only that her ears caught was the branches scratching on her window. 

Catrin probably ran into a trunk. Gwyn thought with a slight laugh. Her sister's balance and spatial awareness was probably the only flaw she possessed, unless one counted her sometimes moody personality. She could picture so clearly her sister’s face twisting in pain and cursing under her breath. 

With a slight smile gracing her slips, she buried her face back into her pillow and drifted off the sleep. 

~

The next morning, Gwyn was up at just past dawn, with the first rays of light shining through her room. It had taken her a few moments to get out of bed as she slowly came to terms that by half day, Catrin would be wed away in the Night Kingdom. 

A groan left her lips as she stretched her arms above her head and threw the covers off, before  heading out of her room. Ever since they were children, it was Gwyn’s responsibility to wake up Catrin. It seemed that even with all her grace and poise, the eldest daughter just could not roll out of bed. 

“Catrin?” Gwyn called, knocking on the door, “it’s time to get up now. The help will want to start taking the trunks down to the lower entrance soon and you must also get ready to leave.” 

She received no reply. 

Gwyn knocked on the door even louder, the sound echoing in the hall, “Catrin I know you must be tired but you have to get up.” 

Still silence. An uneasy feeling settled into Gwyn’s stomach. Usually her sister would be awake by now and saying a slew of words in a groggy voice not fit for a princess. 

“I’m coming in okay?” 

After a slight hesitation, she pushed the door open and walked into the room. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach as she clutched the door frame for support. 

Oh Gods. 

Red covered every inch of Catrin’s bedrooms. The previously immaculate walls were dripping crimson, the pristine white sheets of the bed were drowned in its colour, and Catrin…

Gwyn turned to the side and emptied the contents in her stomach. 

Her sister's head lay on the bed, with her body twisted in a heap on the floor.  Her nightgown had multiple tears in it, with blood leaking from the cuts, her hand was stretched out, as if she were trying to claw her way towards the door. Catrins face had bruises and fingerprints, as if someone’s hand had covered her mouth to muffle her screams. 

Taking two fingers, Gwyn pinched the skin on her arm, hoping that all of this was some hellish nightmare that her mind conjured up. That soon she would open her eyes and be back in her bed. That Catrin’s lifeless eyes were just a figment of her imagination. That none of this was real. 

But no, she was still in Catrin’s room, her head was still laying on the bed, and there was no question that Gwyn’s sister was dead. 

A wail unlike any other left her lips, echoing through the walls of the palace. The pounding of footsteps grew louder and she whipped her head around to see the concerned face of her mother, followed by a group of a few soldiers and the Queen’s personal maids. She walked ahead of the others, holding up a hand to stop the others from following her into Catrin’s bedroom, and approached Gwyn. 

“Gwyneth?” Her mother asked, “What in the Mother is going on he-”

Queen Cordelia’s eyes widened in shock and Gwyn could see her mother’s mind processing the scene that lay before her. Tears welled up in blue eyes, eyebrows pinching in disbelief, before a mask came upon her face once again. 

“Quickly,” the Queen demanded, “Lock down the palace. No one is to leave or enter until the Night Kingdom arrives. I want every soldier patrolling the territory and no ships to leave the docks or port.” 

The maids and soldiers jumped into action at their sovereign's orders and turned down the corridors to carry out her command without question for what their Queen had seen. 

It gave Gwyn whiplash how easily her mother was able to slip back into her role as monarch. Catrin was dead and she was hanging by a thread, but Queen Cordelia was still just that, the Queen. Only her mothers deep blue eyes and trembling hands truly showed the sadness and grief she felt. 

“Gwyneth, did you see anyone unfamiliar near your quarters last night?” 

She shook her head, “No, I-I went to bed after helping Catrin but-but that was it.” 

“Did you hear any noises at night?” 

She wracked her brain for any memory of the past twelve hours, but her mind was in shambles. “I don’t- I don’t know, I can’t remember, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry your majesty, I-” 

“Gwyneth, listen to me.” Cordelia now knelt before her, ring adorned hands clutching her shoulders, grounding her to reality. Those blue eyes pierced clear into her teal ones and for a moment, Gwyn could see a glimpse of the woman her mother was before her father died. “I need you to try and remember. You and Catrin are the only two who are allowed onto this side of the palace at night, do you recall anything, anything that may have been off last night.” 

Taking a few deep breaths she closed her eyes and tried to jog her memories.

She and Catrin went to pack up her things, ate dinner, arranged the trunks, before splitting off to bed. From there Gwyn met with her maids to freshen up and prepare for rest. And then right before she drifted off to sleep…

Her eyes snapped wide open. “I heard a thump at around midnight from Catrin’s room, but I assumed it was her running into one of the trunks littered across her floor.” Gwyn’s breathing became heavier as she realized that what was happening on the other side of the wall was not something as innocent as her sister’s clumsiness. “Oh gods, I didn’t even get up to check on her. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. I could have gone over and maybe I could have-.” 

“Gwyneth, my child,” her mother cooed, pulling Gwyn close to her. The tone of voice was so gentle, as if she were singing a lullaby, “do not blame yourself for the actions of others. If anything, you going over to check on Catrin would have led to your death as well.” 

In her arms, Gwyn felt like a little girl all over again, crawling to her mother in hopes of comfort after a nightmare. “There is no use in trying to turn back the time. And though I will mourn Catrin, I am grateful that I have not lost both my children in one night.” 

Gwyn turned back towards the bed and took in the sight of Catrin’s face one more time. Never had she seen the face of her sister so scared, as if she were witnessing something so truly cruel and wretched. It was as if she were seeing her worst fears in front of her, even in death. Gwyn’s own eyes narrowed as she further analyzed the morbid scene. 

“They placed her head on the bed.” She murmured to herself. 

“Gwyneth, what's wrong?” 

She got up from the floor and walked closer. There was no way for Catrin’s head to have just found its way into that position or location, certainly not in such a way where it was propped against the pillows. Ducking under the canopy above the bed. Following the dead gaze of her sister, she turned her head upwards towards the ceilings and froze.

Her mother immediately gathered her dress and ran over, before she too stopped in her spot when she looked up. 

HYBERN SENDS THEIR REGARDS

For a moment, Gwyn was filled with terror, but soon it was overcome with anger. First they want her country, then they murder her father, and now they’ve slaughtered her twin sister in their own palace, only to use her own blood to write a threat on the canopy of her bed?  

“I’m going to kill them all,” Gwyn snarled with tears of grief and anger glistening in her eyes, “I don’t care what orders are given to me, I’m going to face them with my own sword.” 

Her mother took her hand and walked the two of them to the other side of the room, away from Catrin’s body. “Gwyneth, you cannot go to battle.” 

“I sat by once already when father was killed, I will not stay in this palace when Catrin has just been-” 

“You cannot go into battle because you need to go to the Night Kingdom.” 

“What?”

The Queen let out a sigh before her head dropped a little, the golden crown on top of her head shifting with the movement. “At mid-day, the Night Court is expecting to pick up a Sangravah princess to be wed to Prince Azriel, in order to forge an alliance between our two nations. You are now the only princess in Sangravah and heir to the throne.” 

“Catrin was just beheaded in the palace by Hybern’s forces and you think I’m going to get wed to some prince in another country?” 

“There is no choice Gwyn.” Her mother replied, a steel in her gaze that told Gwyn that she was no longer speaking to the woman who raised her, but the one wearing the crown and ruling over Sangravah. “Uniting our two countries is the only way we stand a chance against Hybern and there is no one who can marry Prince Azriel, but you.” 

Gwyn stood silent in thought, reality finally sinking into her. No matter how much she hated this, the Queen was right. Sangravah needed the Night Kingdoms' armies, resources, and power if they wished to win this war and with Catrin now gone, Gwyn was the only remaining royal of her country, save for her mother. 

“What are we going to tell them then?” Gwyn quietly asked. “We can’t just announce that she was murdered within the palace walls. Many countries have retracted unions for far less and Sangravah cannot afford to be seen as weak.” 

Queen Cordelia pulled back, going deep in thought. “We could stage it so that Catrin had run away before the wedding. It wouldn’t be the first time that a royal had disappeared due to the responsibilities they had and with it being the night before the wedding, this possibly sets the scene even better.” 

“She would never run away,” Gwyn disagreed. Catrin was loyal, selfless, and would never hide from her duties. The very thought of sister’s character being tarnished made her  stomach turn. 

“It doesn’t matter what Catrin would or would not have done, she is dead.” 

She flinched back as her mother’s words struck her like a slap in the face. 

With a sigh, the Queen turned to look outside the window. “Alun is dead, Catrin is dead, and yet here we remain Gwyneth,” she said softly, a quiet sort of grief weaving its way between her words.  “Our country is without a king and now we have lost a princess. I am without a husband and a daughter, and I will not test the God’s for you to be taken from me as well in Sangravah lands.” 

Gwyn got up from the bed and walked towards her mother, before embracing her. “We will burn the bed sheets in the fireplace and give Catrin a proper burial at sea. We’ll scrub the walls until they glisten once more and make an official statement that Catrin has eloped with someone.” 

Queen Cordelia’s body trembled in her daughter's arms as Gwyn continued, “I will go to the Night Court and secure a victory for Sangravah, for father, and for Catrin. We will avenge their lives and all those lost at the hands of Hybern’s forces. Our people’s death will not be in vain.” 

~

Soon after, Gwyn and her mother carried out their plans. The sheets and carpets were burned in the fireplace, they utilized the help of those in the palace most loyal to the crown who would never utter a word of what they were seeing to clean the bedroom, before wrapping Catrin in fine linens and gently lowering her body into a small stream which led to the Sangravah river. 

The Queen’s announcement of Princess Catrin eloping sent the palace into a frenzy and even as Gwyn packed up her belongings to go live in the Night Court, she half expected to find a messenger raven carrying a note nullifying the engagement. To her surprise, it never did and soon the seconds were ticking by until mid day finally struck. 

A commotion was heard outside of Gwyn’s window and her two guards peered outside before giving her a nod, validating that it was safe. When she peered through the pane to see who had arrived, she withheld a gasp as she took in the site of two magnificent thoroughbreds who were pulling a beautiful carriage made of a deep and rich red wood, and complemented by drapes of dark indigo which were threaded with gold to display the Night Court emblem, three mountains with three shining stars at the top.

I suppose it’s time to go. 

Soon, all of Gwyn’s trunks carrying her clothes, small paintings, and little trinkets were loaded into the carriage and as she made her way down the stairs, two guards a few paces behind her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was still stuck in a hazy daydream. 

Somehow, within a span of not even a day, her sister had died, she was now the heir to Sangravah, and was leaving the only home she had ever known to live in the Night Court as the bride of Prince Azriel, a man she knew next to nothing about. 

Every instinct in Gwyn screamed for her to turn back around.

Go back up those stairs, go out through the back door, grab a horse from the stables, and run, run, run away. 

“No,” she whispered to herself, “there is no room in this life to be a coward.” So instead of hiding away, Gwyn straightened her back and rolled her shoulders, before lifting her head high and walking the rest of the way down the stairs. 

As she approached the entryway, she was greeted by the face of her mother, a few soldiers, and an official from the Night Court, the first of which she approached. 

Queen Cordelia was dressed in one of her finest gowns, a deep blue with golden detailing, rings decorated her fingers, with diamonds and gold hanging from her neck and ears. Her hair was pulled back from her face, calling to attention to the colour of the ocean itself which swam in her irises. Lastly, adoring her head was the same golden crown Gwyn had always seen her mother wear. She looked every bit the Queen of Sangravah. 

“My dearest Gwyneth,” her mother spoke, “oh how I’ll miss you.” 

Tears sprang into Gwyn’s eyes at the slight tremor in the Queen’s voice and without regard for the people around them, she flung herself back into her arms. They squeezed each other tight, as if letting go would make the other slip through their fingers. 

“I wish I would have been able to prepare you more for all the things that are to come my child,” her mother whispered to her, “and it is my fault that things have been so tumultuous between us. I am so sorry Gwyneth.”

She shook her head, “There is no need for an apology mother. You wanted to protect me and now it is my turn to protect you.” With a turn of her head she declared softly for only their ears to hear, “I swear to you that Hybern will fall for what they have done to Sangravah.” 

Queen Cordelia stepped back and wiped her tears, but looking at Gwyn with a smile filled with steel and pride. Shock rippled through the room as she removed the golden crown on her head and placed it upon Gwyn’s. “May the crown which sits atop your head remind you not only of your role as princess and heir to the throne of Sangravah, but that this always has and will forever be a place which you can call home. And should you ever return, I will greet you with open arms.” 

“I will make you proud.” Gwyn vowed, voice thick with emotion. 

“You already have my dear daughter.” 

~

After all of her trunks were loaded into the carriages, Gwyn watched through the window as the figure of her mother and the palace grew further and further away. With a resigned sigh, she turned away and looked down at her hands. A ring would soon adorn her finger, she will be married to a prince who belongs to the most influential kingdom in the world, the deaths of her father and sister would be her duty to avenge, and the fate of her country would rest upon her shoulders.