The Mistress (Vikings)

12. Bryllupsklokker

Wedding bells

The enormous pillars inside the church are vastly decorated with beautiful white roses and wild lilies. There are chairs placed on the left and right sides, and in between, a soft carpet awaits the bride's entrance. Right at the end of it, besides Bishop Heahmund, Prince Alfred stands tall with a serious demeanor. All the guests are already sitting in their respective places and the only thing left is the holy union between royalty. I did not want to come here, I pleaded to princess Judith and the King to spare me this suffering, but they both claimed it was my duty as a mistress to attend and support my lover's marriage. My presence here is supposed to show that I am not interested in being Alfred's wife. Which is a complete lie, though necessary to assure our safety from the noble's rage.

I had two weeks to prepare for this day, I knew it would come, and since they told me I had to be here, I have been trying to come to terms with the inevitability of it all. Nevertheless, no matter how much time I had to psych myself into acceptance, my heart cannot seem to comprehend the situation. It bleeds every time I look at Alfred in that groom attire, my lungs feel constricted every breath I take. Right now, it seems impossible to keep living. I try not to think about it too much, otherwise, I know I will break crying in front of these people. That cannot happen, my image in court is already too damaged for me to make any more mistakes. I am already a whore in everyone's eyes. I can sense their stares burning through my skull, I can hear their judgmental whispers. They complain about my presence, but if I have not come, they would also complain about my absence. This is not how I imagined my life was supposed to go.

Just as the bride is about to enter the church, Alfred's eyes clash with mine. His blue ones seem to absorb all the energy left in me, and I feel like the emptiness could swallow me whole. I know he is trying to give me courage by looking at me that way, but it is not working. It is doing the exact opposite because I keep repeating to myself that this could have been our wedding. My mind can not stop drilling itself with negative thoughts. Things like: you will never be her, she is better, you are too common for a Prince, and the worst; he will stop loving you. Deep down, I know most of them are lies, but I cannot seem to stop them. Princess Elsewith enters, and while everyone is distracted by the beauty of her gown, Alfred mouths something at me: I love you. The words take me back to a few days ago.

We were kissing in bed after a fatiguing afternoon. My mother and sister had just left the King's Villa. Their business here was done, and they were now headed to the Count's territories, possibly to finish the marriage preparations. I would have been in that carriage were not for the current turn of events. Edburga was not going to be married in the King's domain, unlike Eadgyd, because she was not the Princess' responsibility anymore. According to Mother, she expected Edburga to be married within a month. My sister was elated. And even after what she did to me, I could only bring myself to hope for the best in her union. I still remember what Eadgyd said about the Count's bad temper. When they parted, Mother said she wished to never see me again. She did not sugar-coat her words, she directly told me not to go to Edburga's wedding and to never write. Mother was ashamed of me, she even punished Nanny Mary for not taking good care of me while she was away. She made a guard beat the poor woman 15 lashes for her irresponsibility. Some twisted part of me enjoyed seeing the woman who made me suffer through my childhood cry in pain. By the time the guard was finished, Nanny Mary was bloodied and passed out. I knew Mother desired to discipline me as well, and she might have done it in other circumstances, but I was officially the Prince's lover now. She could not hit me without risking Alfred's wrath. So she decided to use another weapon: words. Words that stung, and broke any resemblance of fondness she ever had for me. Then, she dissed me and my love for the Prince.

"What is the problem, dear?" I was too focused on my Mother's hate that I did not realize Alfred had stopped kissing me. He was frowning at me with clear concern in his features.