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“Gwen.” Elyan reached for his sister, let his arm drop. He tried again, a little sharper this time.
“Gwen! It’s not what you think. Not this time.”
“Really? And how is it you know what I’m thinking?”
Here, he reached out and gently took her hand.
“Because we shared a womb, we rooted at the breast together.” He looked at her, pleadingly. “I have to think that you, of all people, know me.”
She bowed her head. He could see her, slowly drawing breath in through flared nostrils. He knew that she was angry, but he trusted that she would see the truth.
He released the breath he’d been holding when her shoulders fell. She looked up at him, holding herself stiffly.
“All right then. I’ll hear you out.”
“After you,” he gestured at her, “and Prince Arthur and Merlin rescued me, I got to thinking. I had a lot of time to think in Cenred’s cells, and it got me scared, Gwen. I didn’t want to die in some pit of a jail, forgotten, a ne’er do well. And, well, maybe Arthur made an impression on me.” He hung his head.
“If this is just a plea for sympathy, you can forget it,” Gwen spat out between compressed lips.
“No, really. It’s not,” he replied gently. “I’ve changed. I came to you because I want to help other people. I want to be like Prince Arthur. No more hand outs for me. I know I haven’t always stood up when I should have, but I’m ready now. Will you help me? Can you give me one last chance?”
He had not expected this to be easy. he’d assumed she’d resist. She was forged of stronger steel than he, but maybe their recent experience at the castle of Fyrien had started a seed of compassion in her -- maybe she’d seen a glimmer of the change he’d made and time had healed some of those wounds. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, he waited for her response.
She looked at him, studying him, before a small smile curved the corners of her lips. He felt like his heart was glowing. He’d been right -- in order to assume his rightful place back in his sister’s heart, change had been necessary.