Waking from the spell was surprisingly easy, as if it had just been a confusing but not unpleasant dream in a long, refreshing sleep. A child of constant battle with both other nations and rival factions within her own, that in itself felt wrong, Gwendolyn NEVER fully slept, it involved letting her guard down in a palace full of her father's enemies. As soon as she realised where she was, how wrong it felt, she rolled out of the large, comfortable bed and reached for her weapon in what should have been one fluid movement. Instead, she failed to grab onto anything except a bouquet of roses left on a bedside table, presumably for her, and managed to knock over the priceless antique vase as she tumbled to the floor in a heap of soft silk sheets and woolen blankets that had been draped over her as she slept. She had been too deep in magical sleep to notice. She wasn't dressed for the weather - what in Odette's name was she wearing and why was it fighting with her attempts to move properly? - but it was a lot warmer than normal Ragnanival temperature wherever she was, so she still woke up sweating. Not good... she was still drowsy... she needed to escape and report back to...