so … i have been thinking a lot about how karl haunts the narrative. like we know that the whitehills OBVIOUSLY don’t deal well with grief ( LOOKS AT THEIR REACTION TO LIVYA…. ), and we’ve explored some of that with karl, especially where torrhen and ebbert are concerned, but … how does karl’s situation affect gwyn? ( im interested in hearing about all the whitehills but ESPECIALLY gwyn, id like to know how it changed her and what she does or how she thinks differently now )
i’ve always found gwyn to be a deeply unaffected party where grief is concerned, at least when compared to her elder brothers -- with gwyn seeming more saddened by what their mother’s death entailed rather than the passing itself. she comments on how ludd smiled more before, as well as lamenting over her brothers and their ire towards gryff, whom is all but stated to be bullied over lady whitehill’s passing. but how did she cope? how did she deal? we get very little from that … perhaps on account of her young age at the time ( “is that your mother?” / “yes … though i hardly remember her,” ), which means much of that loss was solely felt from sources who more keenly grieved lady whitehill. i don’t believe this effect is just an age thing, however, as i find gwyn’s relation to her family and her family’s pain to be rather distant. even upon the recollection of gryff’s torment, there is little ‘opinion’. does she condemn karl, ebbert, and torrhen for their treatment of a child? especially when gwyn, perhaps more so than any of her kin, has witnessed the changes that pain caused firsthand? again, we do not know … gwyn keeps many of her opinions close to her chest and, in turn, many of her subsequent feelings as well. she isn’t theatrical like her lordly father nor explosively emotional like gryff -- she maintains a level of evenness at all times, completely committed to an almost neutral party in all areas of life. hence why gwyn can do acts such as allowing asher to kill gryff or saving gryff from asher ; it isn’t inconsistency, it’s her middle ground finally teetering towards one half, spurred on by large events. such as : asher trying to stop gwyn’s family coming to harm vs asher actively poisoning ludd.
you even see similar mannerisms during rodrik’s visit to highpoint, although less obvious because gwyn isn’t stabbing anybody, lol. but for all her firm warnings and ‘rodrik, how could you?’s over gryff’s imprisonment, she ends that ordeal siding with lady forrester and apologizing to rodrik.
much like any living thing, gwyn’s heart can and will be pulled by certain things and i believe that shows in highpoint and the negotiations in ironrath. she has her limits … things like endangering ryon ( an innocent child ) so openly has her subtly siding with the forresters -- as does asher’s decisions regarding her family, because the circumstances are so delicate and gwyn’s faith, love, and trust in asher means more to her than the compliance of rodrik, a man who owes her nothing. when i talk about gwyn’s apathy and general distance from emotion, i do not intend to paint her as some unfeeling, completely opportunistic thing. pain is felt, compassion is offered ( to varying degrees of empathy ), but in small doses.
to bring this back to karl, i cannot see gwyn mourning him any better than her mother. she has little to say about him and, overall, misses her brothers very little. if anything has weighed on gwyn since karl’s greyscale, it would be the storm it wrought once again -- all the mirrors he shattered throughout his deteriorating condition, leaving sharp pieces on the floor of highpoint and well buried in every part of their family, turning them thornier than they already were. karl’s death, in my eyes, is the final fracture that properly breaks the whitehills and sees to their scattering. ebbert squirms to the citadel, torrhen to the dreadfort … the whole ordeal stealing three of ludd’s children instead of just the one. these tensions were there since lady whitehill passed i’d imagine, in some kind of tiny, unknowable way ( perhaps in the sense of alienation ; where the whitehills stop believing their father’s words and began outcasting, scapegoating, etc. ), but the issues festered, grew enlarged, and thus became obvious and irrefutable. the primary issue therein is that the whitehill children’s cope no longer applies with karl’s slow passing, seeing as gryff holds no ‘logical’ fault regarding the greyscale. there’s no party to point fingers at or blame. their accidental reliance on a living, breathing outlet for their pain and hard-to-grasp feelings has made them shaky, deeply immature, and unable to properly confront things that hurt them. i don’t think any of them realize this when karl begins dying ( as it would require unbiased self-inspection, and an admittance that gryff was ‘important’ and served a purpose within their unit ) but, as i said, it shows in all but name. they are faced with the suffering of someone deeply irreplaceable and beloved to them, and the ‘murder’ of karl isn’t really a murder at all, so they deteriorate rapidly and break apart.
it doesn’t help that i truly view karl as their ‘glue’ ; this shining, smiling boy who’s pictured locking arms with his littlest brother and standing closely to the secondborn. he’s the heir, the true lordling, their eldest sibling -- and in asoiaf, we know the idolization that younger children typically feel towards their older brother. whatever karl’s personality may or may not be, him being revered in that way just fits. he’s seen in a similar light as their mother. someone they are safe with, someone guiding, protective, always right, and utterly undeserving of the brutal, painful way in which their warm light was snuffed out. these comparisons only run deeper when you realize that karl shares many of his features with lady whitehill. it’s almost like watching their mother die all over again, except this time the process isn’t chaos that was over in a blink, it was the slow, agonizing death that comes in the form of the greyscale disease. a slow eating away of karl’s skin, and a death of his mind, personhood, etc.
regardless, whilst i think this time was taxing ( especially for ludd in particular, whom gwyn feels for deeply as his daughter ) i don’t necessarily think gwyn herself … cared. again, much like her siblings, she repeats the process that started with her mother -- only worse, in the sense that gwyn felt even more removed from the events that unfurled. her concern was highpoint ; seeing to it that the greyscale didn’t spread, that their house continued running, and so on. her determination to ‘fix’ things is a key aspect of gwyn, to the point she’s almost obsessed with ‘cleaning up’ and suturing the wound that bleeds. making things better is how she copes with most of the torment of her life, and the lives of those she loves. accumulating to gwyn’s focus lying solely on her lordly father, as well as her siblings if they allowed it -- which they might or might not accept, just as much as gwyn might or might not offer, as this would be right after the affair with asher. going from the stress of that to karl’s passing only darkens highpoint further, turning gwyn’s ‘rape’ from a singular incident into a bad luck streak for the whitehills. it’d be draining. what gwyn has to spare would be minimal and likely used wisely, or at least used in a way gwyn believes to be smart.
likely, she’d spend the most time at karl’s bedside, as befitting a woman. most servants likely shrinked away from being near ludd’s heir due to the infectious of the disease -- and that’s if ludd let many people around a weakened karl to begin with. so gwyn would take the mantle of caretaker ; oscillating between easier tasks such as providing food and water, and the more difficult, risky chores such as changing bedding, clothes, and overseeing karl’s state at every waking hour in case their maester was needed. she could bear it, seeing karl in that state, as it didn’t quite land with her. she could see his greying face, slowly being lost to the madness, and not flinch or cry or feel it touch her heart. gwyn would operate almost on autopilot ; automatically and pragmatically, with little soothing outside of provided company. perhaps she’d read a book and begin saying the words aloud to karl, or would fancy some letters and muse over the details openly, freely, with the invitation for suggestions palpable. perhaps, as a pious woman, gwyn would occasionally pray to various of the seven gods to stall the greyscale or at least allow him a peaceful passing. but holding karl’s hand as he laid bedridden was reserved for their father, as were any tantrums that happened in his absence reserved only for their family of ( emotionally incompetent ) men.
after karl is sent to the sorrows, gwyn believes him dead and moves on swiftly. again, she doesn’t actively miss her brothers nor any of the people they’ve lost. and with karl it is more prominent almost, because i do believe some part of gwyn is relieved at ludd no longer having his assured heir(s) … there is a soft understanding within her that had karl lived, and ebbert and torrhen had stayed, there would’ve been little room for gwyn to maneuver as she does in canon. highpoint would go solely to karl and his family, the title lady whitehill to karl’s wife, and karl would easily gain the obedience and respect of any men-at-arms with ease just by virtue of birth. with her and karl existing together at home as adults, the space in which gwyn uses would shrink -- her influence smaller, harder to hold onto, with karl ( even if accidentally ) all but pushing her out. she’d no longer be the sole voice in ludd’s ear either. these loses would be hard to endure in current time, but even back then i can easily picture gwyn as a young girl deeply invested in lord’s business, sort of yearning for that control, and always desiring to bring about good, active change to her house -- to play heir to her father even if it’s an impossible reality, since gwyn is relegated to working within a woman’s cage. this situation leaves a lot of room for envy surrounding her brothers, which then leads to things such as gwyn’s dismissal of their absences and willingness, at least in gryff’s case, to cut them loose ( letting asher kill gryff, sure, but also promising to see gryff exiled for asher’s comfort ). it simply proves advantageous for her to be in an environment where it’s just her and ludd at highpoint, where her words hold the most weight to ludd, as well as gwyn functioning as the figure most of house whitehill is familiar with. she may always have to resort to underhanded means, but at least she has immense sway and power. could even pretend, at least a little, in those girlish whims of fantasy, that she is her father’s heir and that no brothers exist to her, or at least none that threaten her position.
although i’d argue it’s easier to think coldly and believe detached notions when these things are already lost to her. i don’t think gwyn truly knows if she misses karl or not, because those childhood memories are so far away -- if there was a girl who clung to her older brother’s sleeve and begged him for things, be it safety or reason, she is long gone in the same way karl is. karl’s actual person has disappeared and only exists as a smiling boy in a portrait and an absence in the lives of everyone else, same as her mother. the memories of him are not her own ( as she thinks little of him ) and are instead other people’s. gwyn’s reluctance to discuss her losses, or loss in general, strikes me as deeply reserved of her. how often has she been allowed to talk about her mother? of asher? emotions in women, especially those of fraught despair and grief, is seen exclusively as madness -- as the ultimate folly of women, whom are soft-hearted by design, and entirely beholden to their feminine instincts. never mind how men are similarly, if not more so, impulsive and how commonly they live extremely hedonistic lives full of sex, outbursts, and protection from consequences via power and lordship. gwyn keeps most of her personality and thoughts to herself, speaking clinically and distantly of all things delicate, and most of her best efforts of maintaining evenness are met with disrespect, distrust, and tiring hurdles. see many of rodrik’s dialogue options to gwyn ; how two out of three of all choices are dismissive at best and cruel at worst, with rodrik being able to say things such as this :
not to entirely blame rodrik, seeing as the whitehills are his enemy, but i believe my point still stands in the sense that gwyn is often treated very cruelly and misogynisticly. even by other women like lady forrester, who all but blames gwyn for asher’s exile and essentially views her as some kind of evil seductress who would readily doom rodrik to a similar fate.
even outside the fictional world of westeros, fans have repeatedly held gwyn to odd, unrealistic standards in a way that feels rather pointed due to the wideness in which her men counterparts, or more typically girlbossy counterparts ( elaena, mira, and talia ), are given. i have seen her be painted as a manipulator, as a silly naive idealist who doesn’t understand how the world works, and so on. with her reception being so negative in and out of this game, is it any wonder gwyn is so openly cool towards most things? she is always being witnessed and critiqued. and for a potentially ambitious woman who yearns for some sort of power and control, that’s extremely dangerous. but it is that supposed unfeelingness, and gwyn’s almost intense craving for said control ( “together, we can control the future of our houses.” ), that implies she is little more than a woman who has been in survival mode for most of her life. there is no time to analyze her feelings or to feel them too indulgently. there is no reprieve from her grief, no support system to wash her back or hold her hand or smear balm over fresh and old wounds, and so she can only carry on and do so without a heart on her sleeve -- awaiting for some idealistic future where she may, finally, be able to rest ( which may or may not explain her obsession with peace ). maybe then she can miss her family more and mourn more, but as it is, that’s simply not afforded to a woman of her position. it’s not like anyone’s even offering to be there for her, anyway.