The truth is that she had not been first chosen for this alliance. Many months ago when talks began between her father's council and the Archbishop, her elder sister Griselda had been initially offered. Strong, beautiful, and powerful besides, she was much more worthy of the opportunity to elevate the alliance between their kingdoms. But their home has been plagued with war all on its own and Griselda had lost her life on the battlefield.
Her father had not once looked her way before that moment. Now, now... She supposes there's no other choice.
The valkyries of Odin's kingdom, his finest warriors, serve their purpose until they are retired from duty and given to the most powerful soldiers...in the hopes of producing strong children to carry the line. And so it is the same for her, to be taken from her duty and given to someone else. She does not protest, does not complain; this is the law her father's line has set many moons ago, something he will not change.
Her father is set to arrive in a day's time when he is able. Gwendolyn is sent ahead like a courtier, her very presence a testament to the binding promise made. He will appear by and by with the dowry, to sit with the Archbishop and finalize their terms. But she will be enough for now.
Without her spear or her armor, she feels terribly vulnerable. The dress she wears is the finest she owns - the only one she owns - and she can only hope it will be acceptable. The cold of his land does not bother her at all when she is escorted from the ship and across the yard to their keep, though she's been given a soft drape of velvet just in case. The guard walks her inside and she is grateful that there is no wild fanfare or anyone loudly announcing her arrival. Instead, there is only a mild-mannered courtier to step into the room where he waits, informing him of her presence. "Princess Gwendolyn of Nebulapolis to see you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 06:18 pm (UTC)Her father had not once looked her way before that moment. Now, now... She supposes there's no other choice.
The valkyries of Odin's kingdom, his finest warriors, serve their purpose until they are retired from duty and given to the most powerful soldiers...in the hopes of producing strong children to carry the line. And so it is the same for her, to be taken from her duty and given to someone else. She does not protest, does not complain; this is the law her father's line has set many moons ago, something he will not change.
Her father is set to arrive in a day's time when he is able. Gwendolyn is sent ahead like a courtier, her very presence a testament to the binding promise made. He will appear by and by with the dowry, to sit with the Archbishop and finalize their terms. But she will be enough for now.
Without her spear or her armor, she feels terribly vulnerable. The dress she wears is the finest she owns - the only one she owns - and she can only hope it will be acceptable. The cold of his land does not bother her at all when she is escorted from the ship and across the yard to their keep, though she's been given a soft drape of velvet just in case. The guard walks her inside and she is grateful that there is no wild fanfare or anyone loudly announcing her arrival. Instead, there is only a mild-mannered courtier to step into the room where he waits, informing him of her presence. "Princess Gwendolyn of Nebulapolis to see you."