Gwendolyn de Glanyr
Princess-Heir of Glanyr, one of the Principalities many states. She is the daughter of Prince Drustan Deagiath's first wife. Gwen's mother passed when she was six years old, taken by a waterborne pathogen. Her father remarried the same year to a pretty but jealous woman who has yet to bear any children.
Gwen is a dainty, sheltered creature who has been spared many of the hardships her countrymen are forced to live with. While nobility from the more erudite nations would scoff at the girl's abode, wardrobe and education, the fact that she knows her letters and can do simple mathematics puts her in the top ten percent of the people who call the Principalities home. Glanyr's capital, Nitheach, is a town on a mound amid marshy woods. The nearby river feeds its moat, and the town is fortified with walls of wood and stone. Nitheach is difficult to reach by foot or water, and so its inhabitants tend to know everything about one another.
Glanyr, though peaceful as far as Principalities go, has many problems. Nitheach showcases many of these. Surrounded by boggy marshes, it is difficult to grow crops. Many of the animals exhibit odd mutations and behave aggressively, making them and dangerous. In the wet season, the area floods. In the heat of summer, the standing water is a breeding ground for disease and biting insects.
Among this painting of mud, monsters and marshes, Gwendolyn was born. She remembers her mother as a gentle woman, her amethyst eyes and gentle voice not unlike Gwen's own. It is the Cetoilais in her, Gwen's father was ever quick to note, the same blood that gives her a natural grace and charm. It flows stronger in Gwen than in her mother, and Drustan was ever aware how dangerous his savage land would be for a delicate flower like his daughter. When Gwen's mother died, The Butcher Prince became yet more protective of his daughter. No longer was she to leave the castle's walls. Gwen, at the age of six, knew little of grief. She knew nothing of how to cope with what she had seen as her mother had wasted away, the disease slowly attacking her mind and body until Gwen no longer recognised her. She didn't know how to approach her once-warm father, the weight of grief heavy about his shoulders. She didn't know how to react when he drank to ease that burden, blaming everyone for his wife's death.
Her father remarried quickly. Gwen came to understand that this was politics. She hated her father for it at first. The stories he told her had always been about people finding their soulmate, wedding them, having families. How could her father love someone after losing his heart? It had been but months before he was wed to another woman from Iarbruch. He would never find the happiness he had with his first wife. Gwen eventually understood why he and her new mother fought so often. At the time, Gwen was certain that Annwyn de Toutis was a witch, and with all the time she had to spend within the castle walls, she would get the servants' children to help her find evidence supporting this theory. In retrospect, this could have been the start of the bitterness between Gwen and Annwyn. Though she is loath to admit it, however, Gwen believes the relationship was doomed from the moment they met. Nitheach, though a capital, is neither as picturesque or urbane as Annwyn's hometown of Toutis. Her marriage, though politically necessary, was not what Annwyn wanted. She hoped to wed another Iarbruchan, not a bloody prince of the swamps. Annywn remains a vain woman, and though she is a handsome woman, Annwyn detests that she will never have the sliver of Cetoilais that existed in Gwen's mother and was apparent strongly in Gwen herself. Envy grew into bitterness. Gwen received little love from her second mother, only cruel and belittling remarks, slaps and demeaning punishments for failing impossible tasks. The treatment would break many of the meek, gentle Cetoilais. And though Gwen was both meek and gentle, she was also of the Principalities, and its stubborn, tenacity flows stronger in her veins than the western blood that gives her beauty. Drustan grew yet more distant as Gwen blossomed into adolescence. He kept himself away from Nitheach as often as possible, it seemed to Gwen, inspecting borders, leading bands on routine raids to the south, quelling bandits and collecting taxes. It was almost entirely work that ought to have been delegated. Annwyn's cutting observation was that each day the girl grew closer to her mother in looks, and that she was driving her father away. After all, who would want to be reminded of the love of their life by a stupid girl who bore resemblance to a great woman only in looks? Drustan could only be home when drinking or drunk. The arguments between Gwendolyn's parents grew more fearsome. Annwyn would bear the brunt of Drustan's festered sorrow and raging tantrums which would end in the Bloody Prince weeping pitifully and begging forgiveness. Annwyn covered the bruises with cosmetics and fine clothing, but she could not hide the blood on sheets and pillows, nor the broken things -- plates, candles, stools, tables. Annwyn's vanity was deep, not shallow, and she subscribed to the belief that the wife's battlefield was within the walls of her home. She weathered the abuse with a statuesque grace. Few outside the household knew of its existence, and this may have endeared the woman to her servants were it not for the way she treated Gwendolyn. Ultimately, it was the Princess-Heir who suffered because of her father. The impossible tasks grew more humiliating, crueler. Her lessons followed suit, and punishment for failure began to wear at Gwendolyn's tenacious optimism. Cruelty is a hungry beast. The use of violence to recoup power and a sense of strength and dignity is a thing of diminishing returns. Even Annwyn's bitter brain could concoct only so many maltreatments and humiliations. There would come a day soon in which she would sever the leash Gwendolyn was kept on. She would cut it at the collar, but not before miring her in a bog of despair.
Gwen did not grow up in solitude. The Bloody Prince had servants, and his most trusted generals and their families had quarters within the keep. Gwen's charm and optimism won her friends among children and servants easily. Annwyn sought to undermine and poison these relationships. The plots were a mixed success. There were servants who blindly believed in gossip, others who aligned with power or perceived prestige, dragging their children along. And then there were some children who only cleaved harder to the princess. None among Gwen's friends were as devoted as Arlene, daughter of Drustan's sworn brother, Argyle. Like her father swore to protect Drustan, Arlene swore at the tender age of four to protect her uncle's daughter. This is a duty she takes seriously, though her impulsivity and single-mindedness at times causes her grief. Arlene is the rock that supports Gwen, and the two are closer than sisters. Arlene gladly shoulders any burden alongside Gwen, and harbours a deep hatred toward Annwyn. This animosity is one she cannot act on; she is sworn to protect Gwendolyn, but also to honour Glanyr and its rulers. Until the day comes that Annywyn is cast low, Arlene can only wield her blade in defense.
Her leash was punishment, she assumed.
Over the years, that leash lengthened and shortened, but it was always there.Her father remarried quickly. Gwen came to understand that this was politics. She hated her father for it at first. The stories he told her had always been about people finding their soulmate, wedding them, having families. How could her father love someone after losing his heart? It had been but months before he was wed to another woman from Iarbruch. He would never find the happiness he had with his first wife. Gwen eventually understood why he and her new mother fought so often. At the time, Gwen was certain that Annwyn de Toutis was a witch, and with all the time she had to spend within the castle walls, she would get the servants' children to help her find evidence supporting this theory. In retrospect, this could have been the start of the bitterness between Gwen and Annwyn. Though she is loath to admit it, however, Gwen believes the relationship was doomed from the moment they met. Nitheach, though a capital, is neither as picturesque or urbane as Annwyn's hometown of Toutis. Her marriage, though politically necessary, was not what Annwyn wanted. She hoped to wed another Iarbruchan, not a bloody prince of the swamps. Annywn remains a vain woman, and though she is a handsome woman, Annwyn detests that she will never have the sliver of Cetoilais that existed in Gwen's mother and was apparent strongly in Gwen herself. Envy grew into bitterness. Gwen received little love from her second mother, only cruel and belittling remarks, slaps and demeaning punishments for failing impossible tasks. The treatment would break many of the meek, gentle Cetoilais. And though Gwen was both meek and gentle, she was also of the Principalities, and its stubborn, tenacity flows stronger in her veins than the western blood that gives her beauty. Drustan grew yet more distant as Gwen blossomed into adolescence. He kept himself away from Nitheach as often as possible, it seemed to Gwen, inspecting borders, leading bands on routine raids to the south, quelling bandits and collecting taxes. It was almost entirely work that ought to have been delegated. Annwyn's cutting observation was that each day the girl grew closer to her mother in looks, and that she was driving her father away. After all, who would want to be reminded of the love of their life by a stupid girl who bore resemblance to a great woman only in looks? Drustan could only be home when drinking or drunk. The arguments between Gwendolyn's parents grew more fearsome. Annwyn would bear the brunt of Drustan's festered sorrow and raging tantrums which would end in the Bloody Prince weeping pitifully and begging forgiveness. Annwyn covered the bruises with cosmetics and fine clothing, but she could not hide the blood on sheets and pillows, nor the broken things -- plates, candles, stools, tables. Annwyn's vanity was deep, not shallow, and she subscribed to the belief that the wife's battlefield was within the walls of her home. She weathered the abuse with a statuesque grace. Few outside the household knew of its existence, and this may have endeared the woman to her servants were it not for the way she treated Gwendolyn. Ultimately, it was the Princess-Heir who suffered because of her father. The impossible tasks grew more humiliating, crueler. Her lessons followed suit, and punishment for failure began to wear at Gwendolyn's tenacious optimism. Cruelty is a hungry beast. The use of violence to recoup power and a sense of strength and dignity is a thing of diminishing returns. Even Annwyn's bitter brain could concoct only so many maltreatments and humiliations. There would come a day soon in which she would sever the leash Gwendolyn was kept on. She would cut it at the collar, but not before miring her in a bog of despair.
Sorrow whittles away optimism and joy as a small knife slices at the trunk of a great oak.
An oak leaning against a great stone for support will not fall easily.Gwen did not grow up in solitude. The Bloody Prince had servants, and his most trusted generals and their families had quarters within the keep. Gwen's charm and optimism won her friends among children and servants easily. Annwyn sought to undermine and poison these relationships. The plots were a mixed success. There were servants who blindly believed in gossip, others who aligned with power or perceived prestige, dragging their children along. And then there were some children who only cleaved harder to the princess. None among Gwen's friends were as devoted as Arlene, daughter of Drustan's sworn brother, Argyle. Like her father swore to protect Drustan, Arlene swore at the tender age of four to protect her uncle's daughter. This is a duty she takes seriously, though her impulsivity and single-mindedness at times causes her grief. Arlene is the rock that supports Gwen, and the two are closer than sisters. Arlene gladly shoulders any burden alongside Gwen, and harbours a deep hatred toward Annwyn. This animosity is one she cannot act on; she is sworn to protect Gwendolyn, but also to honour Glanyr and its rulers. Until the day comes that Annywyn is cast low, Arlene can only wield her blade in defense.
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Author's Notes
FC is virtual youtuber Lize Helesta. Artwork by けーちゃん.