Silverlight Terrace gobaith

Seren sniffles against him, scarcely believing him to be real. How many sleepless nights has she endured, praying for his safety? Praying that her brother was alive out there, somewhere? And now here he stands, as if he had never left.

She notices the sharpness of his tone, but pays it no mind; his words are most important. She shakes her head. Maent yn iawn, she assures him. He likely believes there to be something sinister behind her actions. She cannot blame him for the supposition. Why hasn't she come sooner, after all? He must have the truth, all of it, and straight away.

Llewellyn. . . Mae teyrnasiad Ioan yn cwympo. Mae'r deyrnas yn gofyn am brenin wirb, Seren tells him, watching his face change from skeptical to astonished through the course of those two sentences. Her face breaks into a smile, the tears coming again as she delivers the next piece of news. Words he has wanted to hear since their childhood. Maen nhw am i chi, Llewellyn. Maen nhw am i chi fel eu brenin.

The princess weeps, but this time with joy, standing under the glory of the stars with her brother as they ponder a future that has not been so bright in many moons.

Rhaid inni fynd adref.