Hello! This isn't the first fanfiction I've written. I used to publish fanfictions in Spanish. But now I'd rather write 'em in English. It's ten times more stylish, I suppose.
However, I hope you like it! If you find mistakes —which you probably will— please tell me, I'd like to correct them. English is not my mother language, although I've been told I speak it very well.
You can also read this story in my DeviantArt account: look for GwennieBlack.
I'd very much appreciate feedback, if you don't mind! Thanks in advance (: I hope you enjoy it!
Night Over Derlaven
Chapter one: The Summer and the Winter
"Show me something!"
"I can't do anything yet, my Lord, I'm afraid."
"Oh, c'mon! You must know how to do something. Can't you even burst a flower into flames?"
"No, my Lord" Gweneth answered, laughing at the prince's eagerness for seeing some magic, standing up and looking for more Remsedels(*) on the ground. "I can't do anything. I'm sorry."
"Oh" Trenton finally accepted the reality, disenchantedly. "When will you be able to do some magic?"
"Magic isn't something you can count, my Lord" Gweneth replied calmly, kneeling to pick up Remsedels off the ground and to keep them in her basket. "You do magic, you don't do some magic. You either do it or you don't, just like that."
"Fine, I understand. So when will you be able to do magic, then?" Trenton asked again, lying on the grass, emphasizing the word 'do' jokingly, picking Remsedels as well.
"My mom tells me she'll teach me when I'm older, when I can control my powers. Magic is very powerful for a little girl like me, and I must wait."
"Would you be harmed if she taught you how to do magic right now?"
"Yes, and everyone around me. I don't want to hurt anyone" Gweneth replied, watching a Remsedel with fixed eyes. Those were her favourites. They were as red as blood.
"And...when will you be old enough?"
"Around thirty-six new moons(**)" the girl replied, standing up and keeping the flower in the basket.
"Ow, that's an awful lot of time. I can't wait that long."
"My mother is the King's arcane adviser, my Lord" she faced him to answer his complaints. "When thirty-six new moons have passed, I will be in this field picking up Remsedels for my mother's ointments, learning from nature, and you will be up in that tower, studying maps and learning war skills. Lyane will run and talk, and Dinehqa will say farewell to the Kingdom to join a brother one. The Queen will have given birth to more brothers and sisters of yours, and you will be growing up to become the heir. And when you're in that tower, you will look down through the window and see this servant of yours picking up Remsedels."
"You're very good at words, Gweneth, but still thirty-six moons is quite a long time" Trenton complained, getting up from the ground and following Gweneth.
"But we can't do anything but wait, can we."
"Time goes on slowly, but it goes on. It does never stop, my Lord" she answered peacefully, looking at the flowers on the ground, "so consider you're one bit of time closer to watch my magic. Though…"
"Though what?" Trenton asked, walking by her side.
"Though maybe, you won't want to see magic by then. When thirty-six moons have passed you will be older, and you'll be interested in other things, such as war, and women. And you'll be starting to think about the future of the realm, and your commitment to it. Perhaps you won't want me to show you my magic."
"I have never seen magic in my life, I wouldn't miss the opportunity of witnessing a spell for the world!" the prince answered zestily.
"Time shall say, my Lord."
"My name is Trenton, Gweneth."
"Yes it is, Trenton, my Lord."
Trenton and Gweneth had been born in different seasons, but the same year. She was a winter-born girl: a little sage, sensible-to-the-bone girl, who would usually think things through logically, but still had place in her heart for pretty things of life which couldn't be enjoyed by the mind but by the senses and the spirit. Still, she was cautious, not the kind of girl who would accept the prince's request to roll down the hill on a boring day. And even though she wasn't cold with everyone, she couldn't trust anybody without examining them in detail.
Gweneth was just like a frozen pond: you can figure out what's beneath it, but you get only a blurry impression of it. But if you melt it, you get to see clearly what is underneath.
And if you shattered it, you could see what's underneath as well.
Gweneth was tough as ice, a bit cold on the outside, sweet and refreshing on the inside. Her mother was the only one who knew this all too well, as she was the only one Gweneth trusted entirely, mindlessly. But as icy as she was, Gweneth was also very weak. Her feelings were the weak point of her being. Sadness, humiliation, loneliness; things which killed her. Things which could shatter her icy, easily-breakable surface.
Just like ice, she only seemed to be strong and tough on the outside, but the reality was a different one. The good thing was that, just like ice, just like everything that's cold, people usually stayed away from her. Not that she would do something for this to happen, it just...happened. For Gweneth, who was skeptic by nature, this was a great advantage —less people to build barriers for. But it had its downside. Sometimes, being ice could be a little...lonely, and being lonely wasn't all that nice, not at all.
Instead, Trenton had been born during the summer, under the sunlight. He was warm, like the sun. Always happy, always brightening everyone's day just by looking at him. He always had a smile or a kind word for whoever needed it, or a word of encouragement, or a hug. Trenton was everyone's friend, and people seemed to like him. Of course, being part of the royalty, some people liked him for his nobility rather than for his personality. Trenton was sometimes aware of this, as his father always warned him to be cautious when choosing the people he wanted to have around; but then he would always forget this warning, as he was naturally kind and innocent. He could never tell if he was being flattered on purpose, or if people were offering him a true friendship.
Nothing bad can ever happen in summer: it's warm, so people don't die of frostbites, or hunger, or freezing to death, or under the flu. The weather was more than pleasant and vegetables were juicier and growing stronger, more colourful; the livestock was fatter and increasing its numbers. Days were longer and nights were shorter. There was always time to play, to chat with neighbors, and the worry of working or else you could starve during the winter if you hadn't enough food was a concern they left behind. Just like summer, Trenton was innocent and unaware of the dangers of the world. He lived to play and trusted everything and everyone in Derlaven(***). In his mind, there was no place for evil. Such thing could not be on the lands of Derlaven, where everyone was always willing to help like his father the King had always helped whenever someone needed it, without asking something in return.
Another curious fact, as if the seasonal contrast between both children wasn't coincidence enough, was that Trenton had been born during the day. By sunset, everyone in the King's village was entering the castle, which had opened its doors to celebrate the birth of the new prince, the second kid and first son of the King Maettes the Merciful, no other than the heir to Derlaven himself. Gweneth was by then only five moons old, still a baby in her mother's arms, sleeping peacefully as the ceremony was taking place and people talked all over the place, screamed in joy, and the band played joyfully for the Gods to bless the newborn. Despite all of that, Gweneth was sleeping. Gweneth, the one who had been born during the longest of the nights, in plain mid-winter, "the night-born" her mother liked to call her. Gweneth was very much like the night, somehow. Mysterious. No one could ever decipher what was going on in that head of hers, as she was shy, silent...deep, as the immensity of the sky and the stars.
Time would say if she grew up to be as beautiful as the heavenly bodies up there. Like the moon watching over the kingdom in the night she was born, the little Gwen was as pale as a daisy, and her eyes were darker than coal. Her facial features were sharp and well defined: her cheekbones stand out under that soft, tight pale skin. Her lips were colourless, in fact, her whole face was almost completely white, the whitest there was.
Both lived in the castle. Gweneth's mother was the King's arcane adviser, a sorceress who advised him on magical matters. She shared her knowledge with the king, telling him her point of view and often acting in representation of the Sorcerers' Sect and its interests. The arcane adviser had to have a great knowledge of all types of magic, and yet be strong to resist the temptations of the dark, hidden ones. Had to be quiet, thoughtful, had to own a superior intelligence, which is a characteristic shared amongst mages by nature. An arcane adviser should always look for the ways of the peace and the seek for new knowledge, should be of a pure spirit. All characteristics Gweneth's mother, Maleth, possesed.
Gweneth and Maleth lived in the servants' wing of the castle, in the first floor. Their life wasn't as fancy as it is expected from someone who lives in a castle, as they were only servants of the King; but they were in a good position. They had two comfortable beds to sleep on, and pillows, and blankets which kept them warm during the coldest nights: this was much more than the average citizen of Derlaven could ask for. And they shared great meals with the castle's service, so they hadn't ever been hungry. Well, not Gweneth; Maleth still remembered her years as a little girl from the downtown, sleeping on a dull couch, eating meat only from now and then. She lived in a particularly poor section of the village where no one expected to see a sorceress being born, let alone get to be the one and only one arcane adviser. Maleth made sure Gweneth knew how grateful she ought to be for having a pillow to rest her head on and a blanket to cover herself with, and a bowl of soup before every meal.
Gweneth knew the disgraces of this world, in a way Trenton, always playing with his wooden chariots, always riding white, shimmering horses, always having fun, could never know.
Both kids kept walking home, walking side by side. In a way both were almost like brothers, since they had been born almost at the same time of the year, and they had grown up together within the walls of Derlaven's Castle. Gweneth had been taught and fed and cherished for the servants as an equal to Trenton. They had shared many hours playing together, learning to talk and to walk together: the prince, and the daughter of the arcane adviser.
The summer and the winter.
(*) Remsedels: a red flower which is used to make healing potions.
(**)Thirty-six moons: three years. In my tale, time is counted taking the full moon as reference.
(***) Derlaven: the name of the kingdom where the story takes place.
So I'd really appreciate if you could take some time to tell me what you think of this. Please?
Thanks a lot for reading!