Gwendolyn stood on her bedroom balcony looking up at the spiralling stars in the sky above. Ragnanival, and the Aesir, were sleeping in the city below the castle. She herself could never sleep on the eve of a battle. She turned at the sound of a light tap on her chamber door, smiling slightly when her sister, Griselda, slipped through it to stand in the shadows cast by the flickering candle on her dresser. She was dressed as Gwendolyn was, in a long white nightgown, but where Gwendolyn's hair was loose Griselda had hers pinned up. It was her preference to always be ready for battle in such small details. Gwendolyn was sure that if her sister could have slept in her armour then she would have attempted it.
"It is late Griselda," said Gwendolyn in mock irritation, watching her sister's mouth quirk at the dismissal.
"I knew you would still be awake, sister." She gave her a knowing smile. "You can never sleep on the eve of battle. Come, let me keep you company until dawn for once. The early hours must be very lonely when you keep your vigil."
It is not a vigil, I simply worry for our country. Our battle against the fairies never seems to wane and every day I wonder at the purpose of it. So many deaths and I still cannot understand why we must invade that land."
"You are soft hearted as always."
Gwendolyn left the balcony to approach her sister. "But why are you not sleeping tonight? Although I appreciate your companionship, shouldn't you rest before you fly into battle tomorrow?"
"A sentiment I share for your own well-being but which I know will be ignored. If you will not sleep than nor shall I." She sighed. "Come, sit with me sister. Let me brush your hair as mother once did."
Gwendolyn smiled sadly, perching on the end of her bed delicately. She could not remember their mother well, she had been five when she had died from an illness. Griselda had been eight. It was said that her father, King Odin, had been a joyful man when her mother still lived, quick to smile. Now it felt that they were ever a country at war, hardened and proud of that image. Her father had not smiled since her mother's death. She could no longer remember his smile.
Griselda padded silently across the room and retrieved a fine ebony brush from Gwendolyn's dresser. Settling herself comfortably behind her sister on the bed, she cut the first soft stroke through Gwendolyn's hair. The bristles caressed her head rhythmically, and Gwendolyn felt herself relax slightly, some of her nervous energy ebbing away.
"Will you not take some milk and sleep tonight, little bird? You will need your strength tomorrow," Griselda asked.
"What of you sister? Tomorrow you will not wield a brush but your fine spear. You are the pride of the army, the finest Valkyrie there is. Do not remain here all night with me, I beg you to take rest in your chambers."
She felt Griselda slide a gentle hand over her head, smoothing down layers of silver blonde hair.
"I am not the one they call 'Odin's Witch', you are the one that has claimed such a ferocious title with the people. I think the pride of the army sits here before me."
Gwendolyn shuddered. She hated that nick name; she wasn't sure whether it was their army or the enemy's army that had started calling her that, but it had always chilled her.
"I think we both know that anonymity is proof of far more than a hasty title. You remain unnamed because of the skill of your spear. No enemy remains to speak of you once you fly into battle. There are no survivors to spread word of your might, such is your talent to go unnoticed." She turned back to her sister, regarding her seriously over her shoulder. "That is why father loves you so."
Griselda smiled a small smile. "I think he loves you best because you are more similar to mother. She had a soft heart like you, she was always too kind, and that's why the people adored her."
Gwendolyn sighed contently as her sister slid the brush through her hair again. "Will you tell me about her?" she asked.
She felt her sister pause for a moment, considering. "She was a woman who loved music very much. When she was alive the castle was always full of bards and new unknown instruments. She would walk through the castle humming new strains of a song she had heard; completely unaware that she was even doing so. She loved to play hide and seek with us, too, and sometimes she would sneak into the kitchen and return with surprises for us." Griselda chucked. "Of course, she was the queen, so it hardly mattered if she got caught there, but it would have ruined the joy of the game."
"Was she very beautiful?"
"Oh yes, she was very lovely, very graceful, and she loved father so much."
"And he loved her."
Griselda was silent for a few moments. "Yes, he loved her." She shifted on the bed, running her fingers through her sister's long hair. "She had the most beautiful dresses too, and they were all blue, just like the colour of your feathers. Her wings were nearly identical to yours."
"I wish I could remember her better," sighed Gwendolyn.
Her sister's hands came up to rest firmly on her shoulders. "Is Myris here?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Why, she is in the chamber next door, I imagine." Gwendolyn replied, feeling slightly disappointed that the stories of their mother had ended already.
"Good," said Griselda, pushing herself up from the bed and stretching her cramped wings. "Where is your bell?"
"Over by the candle," he sister answered. "What is it that you need?"
"You shall see," smiled Griselda secretly, gliding across the room to ring the summoning bell for her personal maid. Gwendolyn admired the way the flickering light caught her sister's fine form. Lithe and agile, her grand wings stretching from her waist, hues of pink and purple patterned through her glossy feathers. She was always as grand as a princess, but she was a warrior first and foremost, and this was always obvious from the self-assured way in which she carried herself.
Moments later there was a light knock on the chamber door.
"Enter," murmured her sister, just loudly enough to be heard through the door.
Her pooka maid, Myris, entered hesitantly, bowing her head low to Griselda. Her long furry ears flapped wildly as she did so; Gwendolyn knew that this usually meant that she was nervous. For some reason Myris always felt anxious when faced by her elder sister, although Gwendolyn could not say why. Griselda simply had that sort of effect on a lot of people.
Griselda crossed the space between them and knelt down to whisper in Myris's ear. Gwendolyn watched as her maid nodded enthusiastically and bobbed a quick curtsy before hurrying from the room.
"What did you say to her?" she asked.
Griselda smiled at her sister. "I asked her to fetch something for me."
"But what?"
"You shall see."
They waited, and before long Myris returned with reams of fabric in tow, the tiny creature was half lost in its offering. Griselda took the item from her and held it up before her sister.
Gwendolyn gasped. It could only be one of her mother's dresses, and it was beautiful. "Oh, it's lovely, did she often wear this?"
Griselda nodded, a nostalgic look in her eye. "This one was her favourite."
Gwendolyn reached out to run a hand over the fabric. "It makes me feel a little bit closer to her; I can almost imagine her wearing it."
"You'll be able to see the vision itself soon enough," said her sister, shaking the dress lightly. "Try it on."
"No." Gwendolyn shook her head nervously. "I couldn't, it was mothers."
"She would have wanted you to have it, to remember her. Please little bird, I long to see it on you."
The reluctant sister looked at the dress longingly. "Okay, but only for a moment."
With only her sister and maid present, Gwendolyn de-robed boldly, but felt a small glow of embarrassment in her cheeks as she hurried to slip the gown on.
"See here," said her sister, smoothing down her wings. "They sit snugly beneath the dress."
"But what if I should need them? I'm tactically disadvantaged!"
"Ah, yes, that is true," said her sister dreamily. "But back when this was worn there were no wars."
Gwendolyn stared down at the dress wonderingly, as if the gown itself were responsible for peace.
"I wonder if father can still remember such times."
"Come," her sister pulled her towards the long wall mirror so that she could admire herself in the gown.
The dark blue satin spill of the dress had hidden her wings, bunches of lighter blue chiffon reminding her of the colours of the feather beneath. Her shoulders lay bare, pale and slim like the length of her throat, white like a lily. Silver blonded hair fell heavily to frame her face as her large violet eyes drank in the vision of the dress. As a Valkyrie she had only ever known armour. This dress was something new and wonderful, and she found herself smiling despite herself. For a moment it seemed that peace was not simply some frivolous dream.
"You look just like her," murmured her sister sadly. "I would that father could see you dressed so."
"It cannot be," shrugged Gwendolyn. "We are warriors now; we have no need of fine dresses."
Her sister's face was haunted in the mirror from over her shoulder, lost in memories.
"Will you wear this for me tomorrow sister, to show our father?"
Gwendolyn turned to her sister. "Tomorrow? I cannot, tomorrow we fly into battle."
"But you need not go yourself. Let me lead the army alone this one time. Your heart is not in war, little bird, as mother's was not. I can see this as easily as I can see how alike you are to her."
Gwendolyn gave her sister an alarmed look. "But father-"
"It is father I think of," replied her sister. "If he can see you thus, and remember mother, perhaps it will bring a smile to his face."
The words sent an ache through Gwendolyn's heart. To make her father happy… to finally see him smile after all these years of fighting and sadness. It would bring her such joy if he could accomplish this one thing.
"Do you not trust me as a warrior, despite your fine words for me earlier?" taunted Griselda.
"No!" cried Gwendolyn. "I meant every word I said, you are the greatest fighter I have ever known. Only you could stand against the terror of the Shadow Knight!"
"Now you are simply over praising me," chided Griselda.
"Indeed I am not," she protested. She truly believed that even that the demon of legend would fall beneath her sister's spear.
"Then you must stand by those words sister; let me lead the armies tomorrow. Stay here, in the castle, little bird, and see if this dress can accomplish what years of war have failed to do. Bring joy into father's heart again."
Gwendolyn looked long at the dress in the mirror and at her sister standing behind her, wraithlike in white with her silver white hair and pale skin. She sighed.
"It will be as you ask then, I will stay tomorrow, but only if you promise to return to your chambers now to sleep before the battle."
Her sister smiled, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the head.
"Farewell then, little bird. I will retire for the night and take my rest. My heart will go with you tomorrow; I hope we can both revel in the success of our conflicting actions then."
As her sister walked to the door, Gwendolyn felt an odd sense of loss at the absence of the comforting presence at her back.
"Griselda," she called, stopping her sister as she opened the chamber door. Her sister paused, her eyes serious and shadowed. Gwendolyn hesitated, not quite sure why she had stopped her.
"My heart will be with you on the morrow too," she told her quietly.
"Then both our hearts will be glad," whispered her sister with a private smile, and she slipped out of the door and into the night.
Gwendolyn walked out onto the balcony again, feeling the cool night air buffer against the layers of fine fabric she wore. She looked up into the stars, feeling that she had lost the part of herself that was Valkyrie for a moment. She tried to ignore the weight of her mother's gown, confining her wings, and wondered if it would make her father smile.