Character Development - Gwendolyn Tully (AU Game of Thrones)

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Born in Riverrun, Gwendolyn was the second daughter of Edmure and Allyria Tully. The maesters and septas have told her that she was such a happy baby: red-faced with laughter more often than tears. Gwen would simply smile at the stories, continue with whatever it was she was doing, and wonder to herself if it were really true. She certainly didn't feel like someone who had been a happy baby-- not that she really knew what that felt like, though. Allyria doted on the infant in a way she hadn't quite done with her first born daughter. Not that the infant noticed, and, in fact, had she not later noticed the difference in the way her mother acted with her as opposed to her elder sister, Gwen might never have known at all.

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The first year of little Gwen's life was uninteresting, to say the least. Nothing much happened. There was no plague, no anything, really. Yes, there were still people dying, but the plague was dying as well. Gwen was only one year old, and none of this really meant a thing to her. Generally speaking, Gwen simply laughed at everything and tugged on the skirts of those older than her. More importantly, at the tender age of one, Gwendolyn became a princess. Rhaegar split the seven kingdoms, and, being the second daughter of the now King of Riverrun, Gwen was a princess. And yet, she was still a child that did not understand the meaning of the words being told to her.

What did mean something to her, however, was the birth of another baby. Gwendolyn became a big sister. Sure, she might have only been one year old, but she loved the new baby. It wouldn't have come as shock to anyone to find out that the little princess thought the baby was her own personal doll, made just for her. It really was a wonderful time to be little Gwen.

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Two years old and already a trouble maker. Well, sort of. Having already learned to walk-- and run-- little Gwen found her greatest pleasure in making everything a game of Hide & Seek. She would play with anyone willing to let her play with them, stranger or no. This was the year the last person infected by the plague died, ridding the world of the disease. All that meant to the two-year-old princess, though, was that she was no longer kept only within the confines of the castle, and was once carried out by her father on a visit to commonfolk. All little Gwen could see was a great deal of new people to play Hide & Seek with. It was a good thing her father did not put her down that day.

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By the time she was five years old, Gwendolyn had become quite the little lady. She was almost perfect at her curtsy, and was able to recite a couple of short poems. On top of all that, she was learning how to sing, do needlepoint, and everything about all of the other houses and the history they all shared by being in Westeros. Gwen enjoyed learning, but she wanted to be able to do the things her elder sister was doing, too. There, growing deep down, was the seed of jealousy. Gwen knew her mother favored the eldest- perhaps it was the way her mother spoke of Alora, or perhaps it was something else, but somehow, Gwen felt sure she was correct. And while she was jealous, she did not let it bother her.

When it came right down to it, Gwen knew she would never be anything like her elder sister. Alora was tough, rigid, and inspiring. Gwendolyn was a romantic at heart, soft, and would likely find herself terrified were she to be in Alora's shoes.

Whenever she was not required to be indoors, Gwendolyn would find her way to the garden. There she would glance around before taking off her delicate shoes and dancing around in the dirt and grime. She would always come back indoors with a handful of flowers picked specially for her mother. Gwendolyn loved her mother, loved her sisters, and her father, too. Family, Duty, Honor. It was already engrained into her every day thoughts and actions, even at the tender age of five.

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Gwendolyn was eight years old when she had her first dream about her future wedding. It was lovely and perfect. There had been cherry tarts, lemon cakes, and even apple crisps! She had looked stunning in her wedding gown, and her betrothed had been the most handsome man in all of Westeros. Upon waking, she could hardly wait to tell her younger sister and their handmaidens. Romance was all the little princess could think about nowadays. It was in all the stories - or so it seemed anyways. Gwen could hardly wait for the day when she would become a woman and have a beautiful wedding to a handsome man- perhaps a knight!- and they would live together in a castle, with several children, and a lifetime of true love.

It was a warm day when Gwen decided to slip out without permission. She found herself wandering around the garden, a soft smile on her lips. Stumbling upon a person she'd never met before, she greeted him kindly and asked what he was doing. The man explained to her that he was planting some new flowers. Interested in the idea, Gwen asked the man to teach her. He seemed rather nervous, but he hesitantly agreed once she began almost begging him.

Upon returning inside, Gwendolyn got quite the reprimand. She was covered in dirt- it had likely ruined the gown she'd been wearing- and she'd forgotten to bring her shoes back inside with her. Afterwards, Gwen was sitting alone on her bed, studying silently as she had been told to do. She had already been scrubbed clean after her gardening adventure, and there seemed to be no trace left of what fun she'd had that day.

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Two years after the garden incident, Gwen finally asked her father to allow her to visit with the commonfolk. There was some deliberation between her father, her uncle, her mother, and her teachers. In fact, there was a couple days worth of deliberation before Gwendolyn was finally told she would be allowed to visit the commonfolk- but she was to remain under close supervision. Luckily, the person doing the supervising would be her uncle Bryndyn. Despite generally being afraid of the man, Gwen found she really did love her uncle, and this just proved it all the more.

The day they went out, he did not watch her like a hawk watching its prey. Instead, he gave her simple guidelines, and she found them easy enough to follow. It seemed everyone knew who she was, and she wondered if it was because of her hair, but she guessed it was more likely the fact that she had come riding in with her uncle on a horse waving the Tully banner, surrounded by a few good guards...and her dress was of a finer- and cleaner- material than anything they were wearing. She smiled at everyone she met, asked them a few questions about their lives, their flowers. In the whole day, Gwen found one person in particular whom she admired: a painter. He made such beautiful images using dyes, and it amazed Gwen. She wondered if it was a skill that would be easy to learn. Then again, considering the mess the man made, Gwen doubted she would be able to convince anyone that this painting skill would be better suited to a lady than learning needlepoint and weaving for tapestries.

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The morning that Gwen woke in a pool of blood, she screamed. Loudly. It caused quite the commotion, really. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and it took her mother's soothing to calm her down. There was no need to be afraid, not really. It was simply the mark of womanhood. Gwen spent the rest of the day in bed after the sheets had been taken to be cleaned, that is, and replaced. She wondered why it was such a big deal if all she was going to do would be to stay in bed feeling like she was going to die. She asked her mother if it would always hurt this much. For the life of her, she could never recall her mother's answer, but Gwen liked to imagine her mother had said it would get better.

Lying there, in bed, gwen tried to imagine what this meant for her now. She was no longer a child, and it was time for her to stop acting like one. In the morning, she promised to act like a proper lady from then on. She was sure that within a few years time, she would be betrothed, anyways, so why not start acting like someone the knight in her dreams might be proud to call wife? Twelve was a good an age as any to be a proper wife, after all!

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Ever since she had been granted her first adventure to visit the commonfolk, Gwendolyn took it for all it was worth. She visited as frequently as she could, talking with the people, smiling, laughing, singing, and, on occasion, dancing with them. She never told her father about the dancing- he would be sure to never allow her to return if he ever found out. There were a couple of farm girls, her age, whom Gwen had taken a particular liking to. She enjoyed their company, and were it not for the difference in their statuses, she might have called them friends. She wondered if she might be able to convince her father to bring at least one of them on as a new handmaiden. That way, at least, Gwen could spend all the time she liked with at least one of them. She made a note to ask about it later.

The jealousy that had started to grow years earlier finally buds. Gwen watches her elder sister with a doting look of anger. Gwen feels certain that Alora will be Queen of Riverrun one day, and it makes her want to scream, want to shout. Gwen was never as close to Alora as she was with Laisa, so she cannot be certain that her elder sister actually loves Riverrun as much as Gwendolyn does, and she believes that a queen that does not love her home should not rule it. The only person Gwen ever mentions her envious feelings to is Laisa. Laisa means the whole world to Gwen, and being only a year apart in age, they grew up doing just about everything together. Gwen made Laisa promise to never tell a single soul. So far as Gwen was ever aware, Laisa never did.

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Fourteen years old and still without a betrothal. Where a good number of girls her age would see this as a terrible curse, Gwen looks upon it with optimism. That means she still has a chance to find her true love! Perhaps at the next tourney she'll meet themost handsome knight in all of Westeros, and he will ask for her hand. It is simply a lovely story she had made up in her head, and she sighs as she sits, staring out the window at the rivers, running fingers through her curls.

It is the middle of the year when she met a boy. She couldn't recall which house he hailed from, but she was certain it was one of the houses pledged to her father- Erenford? Wode? Perhaps Mooton? He was a few years her elder, but he had been so perfect- handsome, kind, strong... Gwendolyn was certain he had liked her just as much as she'd liked him. They had spent a short while talking, but never alone. When he had left, Gwen knew she would always be able to recall what his lips felt like against the back of her hand. She dreamt of him that night, and many nights afterwards. In fact, it was not uncommon that his was the face she now saw in dreams of her wedding day. He had said he would return, and Gwen wondered, with hope in her heart, when that day would come.

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As the days came and went, Gwendolyn was beginning to believe the boy in her dreams would never come back to her. She wondered if perhaps she had simply imagined him the whole time. Her heart was heavy, but she went on living. She was fifteen now, practically an adult.

Being an adult, when Gwendolyn got the news that she was to wed Theon Greyjoy, of the Iron Isles, she managed to act like it was the best news she had ever gotten in her entire life. It wasn't. Truth be told, Gwen was excited that she was finally betrothed, that her wedding day was now only just around the corner; but she was not excited about to whom she was betrothed. She knew the reputation of the Iron Islanders- she had been a good student.

Gwendolyn sat in the window, looking out at the rivers she loved so dearly, thinking about her new betrothal, about the boy who would never come back for her, and about a home far away that she might never love. Would it really be as bad as she was making it all out to be? She hoped not, hoped she would be proven wrong. Whatever the outcome, Gwen promised herself to stay optimistic about it all. It was all she could do.

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