Familiar Strangers ( Undergoing revamp)

Chapter 2

'Dear Diary,
Welcome to your new home, it sucks ...'

The wedding was a blur. She had a memory of a vaguely familiar man she'd seen in high society balls, but that had always been from far. Only then he had been a prince, now he was a King in full regalia, taking over after the demise of his father who was much loved. Her father had quick marched her onto the ceremonial stage and given her hand in his, he said I do, she remembered muttering something unintelligible and that was that. She was a wife and a Queen, but that had not even sunk in when she was whisked off to the waiting carriages. She remembered that she'd wanted to say good bye to Cookie and the staff, but they were not to be seen, she would miss Cookie, she'd been more her parent than her mother and father ever would. She was deposited in the most stiff looking carriage and they were off. Her *husband* had not even bothered to ride with her, instead preferring his carriage to ride along side hers, but it was too dark too see his form properly and Gwyn's nerves were frayed already. Panic had settled in halfway to Highreach, she'd started fretting over her belongings, had someone bothered to pack her childhood in trunks? Was Gwen back, now that she had successfully avoided marrying the King who in her own words was 'an old boor unable to get it up?' What would Lord Dryfruid think? Actually she had been glad to dodge that particular bullet, on a good day, Lord Dryfruid gave her the creeps. Moving on, had someone bothered to tell her mother that her daughter was married? Gwyn that is, not Gwen? Weren't mothers supposed to impart wisdom to their daughters on the wedding day? Not that she didn't know what her mother would have said, having bribed a footmaid in the manor when she was 14, Gwyn was plenty informed about the ongoings of the wedding night. Also, the groom wasn't an old boor like Gwen had said. True, the dress she was wearing was an awful concoction of frills and laces and various fripperies which cost her father very dearly, but Gwen had chosen an almost clear veil, no doubt to secure the on-dits at her own wedding, and therefore Gwyn had, when she'd dared to look up after the ceremony, caught glimpses of her husband.

There was nothing else to it, he was a handsome devil.

And *not* old. 28 at most. Definitely on the greener side of 25, best case. Why then, Gwen had run, she didn't know, but she did know, that whenever her sister would deem to show up at the Manor, her father would not reprimand her. She had him wound around her little finger, an ironic feat considering he didn't want anything to do with Gwyn at all. But in her own twisted way, Gwen had convinced her father of her angelic nature and face, and the fact that she could catch the biggest fish in the sea with that face, but what was bigger than the King, Gwyn didn't know.

She would soon, though.