Avery is the third born child to the late King Aethelwulf. Youngest sister to Alfred. She longed for more freedom. To be able to fight like her brothers and be free from her destiny of being forced to marry some fat old lord for the promise of men o...
The wedding was not as grand as any other royal wedding, but Avery felt her time was running out. If they left the wedding any longer, they wouldn't be able to hide her condition or convince people that her child was Godric's. The future heir to carry on the Dragonby name. So, the wedding was rushed but she still wore a beautiful gown. The finest of silks and lace that Wessex had to offer. The man due to be her husband looked perfect, he even seemed to sell the whole smitten husband role well when he saw her approaching him.
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The service was short and sweet. But she could feel the stares from her brother, he was watching her like a hawk in case she tried to run – something she had done for years whenever anything started to get too much. But she couldn't do it this time. This was for her child. The protection of her child. Or their child. Godric was now their father.
The feast afterwards was grander than she expected, her brother had clearly gone overboard with the planning. But she appreciated everything he had done for her, how he had helped her when he could have just disowned her.
"You look so beautiful. I do believe I am the luckiest man in both Wessex and Mercia." Godric smiled across at her, watching as she cut up a piece of the meat on her plate. She smiled in return, stabbing the piece of pork onto her fork before holding it up towards his mouth, he gladly accepted the food.
"You haven't tried living with me yet. You might change your mind after a few weeks with me." She teased and then a drunken Aethelred approached their table and already, Avery grew tense as he was near.
"To the happy couple." He spilled his red wine all over the table, Avery jumping to her feet, so the liquid didn't ruin her dress and Godric was quick to stand too, escorting the drunken lord of Mercia back to his table with his men.
The hall was full of rowdy men and women as the wine continued to flow but when Godric could sense how uncomfortable his new wife had become, he crossed the hall back to her, extending his hand for her to take. She didn't seem to hesitate and followed him away from all of the noise and madness.
"Is it his?" He whispered as they walked the halls together and when he saw her shake her head, he knew not to ask anymore questions. If she wanted to tell him who the father was, she would in her own time. And if she never told him, then that was her choice too.
They found themselves outside the doors to her chambers and there was a slight moment of hesitance before she opened the doors, stepping into the dimly lit room and allowing him inside too.
"Would you like any more wine?" She asked as she lingered near the table that was far away from the bed and he chuckled softly. When he approached her and carefully took the jug of wine from her hands, he could see that she was shaking.
"I do not expect anything from you. You are my wife, my equal." He placed the jug back onto the table and when he reached for one of the small blades that laid next to the various fruits, she seemed confused as he winced and sliced open his palm. Her breath hitching when she saw that he was covering the sheets in blood – enough blood to convince everyone in the Kingdom of Wessex that the Princess was no longer pure.
