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The first time she had done it, it had been like something out of a dream, some out of body experience where she could see herself going through the motions but it wasn’t her controlling them. It had been done out of a quiet rage and pain that could not be expressed in any other way.
No one suspected a thing. Alfred was a sickly man, therefore any bouts of sickness were not seen as unusual and not something to be looked deeply into.
He had been in far more pain than usual, having been struck down by fever, vomiting; his head and entire body aching. In the beginning she had been pleased, pleased that he would finally feel a fraction of the pain that he had caused her. And then the pain was so great he was unable to mask it as he usually did, and during the worst of it he had begged for her to stay with him and not leave his side, had been afraid to be alone and wanted her, and only her, to be with him. Only she had been trusted to see him like that, so vulnerable and helpless.
He had needed her. And that pleased her more than the pain he had felt.
It had been intoxicating being so needed by him. Before he had never indicated that he truly desired her company. That outside of being his wife, she was anyone he would want to be with. She almost wished that he’d remain in such a state, so that it could just be the two of them.
But he recovered. And as much as it disappointed her, she took comfort in the fact that things had improved between them. Alfred believed his suffering to have been God punishing him for his sinful ways, and so he had rededicated himself to living as godly as she knew he could.
Until she felt the distance between them once more. Until she realized that he looked far too closely at one of the new servant girls, and learned that he had succumbed to the temptation of his old ways.
And so, one early morning, she slipped away to the forest beyond the walls of the palace.
And a day later Alfred fell ill once more.
——
It became a continuous cycle. He would hurt her, she would endure until she could endure no more, and then slip away to pick her mushrooms. Alfred would fall ill, beg for her to be by his side and ask for forgiveness, from God, from her, and then swear to overcome his temptations. And she would be there and forgive him. Always.
And then he would recover, and the cycle would begin again.
Until the Danes renewed their invasion.
Until Alfred became King.
——
It was a frustrating realization that she would have to break their cycle, not because Alfred had finally remained faithful, but because of the heathens.
She could no longer continue while there was open warfare. She was no fool, a strong King to meet the invading force head on was far more important than a faithful King. So, for as long as the heathens attacked, she would have to push her pain to the side. Regardless of how much it enraged her that he would be keeping his current whore in his service for far longer than she would wish. After every bout of illness he had always dismissed the girl he had been with, it was his way of showing her his remorse and sincerity.
But that would not happen for some time now. And so, for the good of the kingdom and her family, she would endure it.
Nonetheless as the fighting went on a cold fury began to burn inside of her. And the longer she sat with it, the more it grew, and the more she could feel her rage and pain overtaking the more sensible, rational part of her. Once everything was done, she swore, she would ensure that the next poisoning was far stronger than all the previous.
Alfred needed to be reminded that his sin was not without consequences.
——
Slowly time passed, but things began to change.
She realized she was with child once again, and it filled her with a happiness and an anxiety she could barely control. She waited several weeks before telling Alfred, wishing to be certain that she would carry to term. She could not bear to announce only to miscarry early again.
He was overjoyed at her news, and in between war meetings and campaigns he spent any and every free moment with her. She was euphoric at his desire to be in her company, to spend each and every moment with her.
Their son was born in the spring, and with his birth a great weight she had carried since they had first married was finally lifted from her. She had secured Alfred’s line and her place beside him. No whore and her bastard son would be able to replace her.
His whore, she learnt, had been dismissed at some point during the pregnancy, done so without the need of mushrooms and illness, and that realization planted a seed of hope.
And it was that hope that carried her through the next several months, through their flight into the marshes and their son's illness and through the unbearable limbo they existed in during the time leading up to Ethandun.
That hope flourishes when he tells her there was no other he wished to have as his wife, and sustained her through the unbearable wait for word of the outcome of the battle.
They had become even closer through their trials, all without the use of mushrooms.
By the time they had returned to the palace and settled, things between them were well. More than well. There were no more dalliances with serving girls, and most of the day they spent together, either sitting in on petitioners and meetings with ealdormen or discussing reports and news. Alfred would ask for her opinions, for her thoughts before everyone else. He needed to know what she thought, needed to know that she agreed with his decisions. They shared a closeness that had not existed before, because Alfred needed her.
There was no more need for mushroom picking.
And then suddenly Alfred fell ill again.
——
It had been a long period of time since he had last been bedridden. Many had believed that Alfred’s newfound health was God's way of rewarding and praising them for their triumph over the Danes.
Aelswith knew better. His health had nothing to do with God, or perhaps it did. Was this her punishment for using Alfred's sickly nature against him? For creating a situation that everyone believed to be God's will but was instead the will of a scorned wife?
She could not know for certain the cause, but his symptoms were so familiar that she was almost positive it could be nothing else.
The thought that what she had done could potentially have a long lasting impact hadn’t occurred to her. So caught up in her own pain and desire, she had not even considered what effect it could have on Alfred. Perhaps she had made his condition worse. Perhaps overuse of the mushrooms had caused him to develop a new illness. Those thoughts haunted her as she tended to him. She took care to be far more attentive than usual, largely out of fear and guilt.
She could tell he was in far more pain than during previous bouts as he asked far more of her, and she did it all without hesitation.
Every waking moment is spent in silent prayer as she tended to him. She prayed for his recovery, swearing that no matter what Alfred did she would never use the mushrooms again. Swearing that she would endure anything as long as he recovered.
As the days passed into a week she began to fear that he would never recover.
But he did, and as weeks passed it was almost as if it had never happened, and while she was relieved, she could not forget her fears. And so, in the months that followed she ensured that she was scarcely parted from him.
——
As they approached a year since his illness, and Alfred remained in good health, her fears, along with her guilt, slowly began to slide away. However, while Alfred seemed content with her insistence on being by his side, at times seemed almost thrilled by it, the ealdormen were a different matter.
Ever since she had made herself a permanent fixture beside him, the ealdormen had taken notice. More than once she had seen them whispering amongst themselves, carefully observing her and Alfred, wondering if he had not recovered as fully as they were being led to believe, wondering if her presence was some ill omen, some hint as to the true state of her husband's condition.
She would not allow herself to be the reason that Alfred would be seen as weak ever again, and so she begrudgingly lessened the time they were seen together during visits from ealdormen and petitioners.
And then Alfred fell ill again.
——
It was around the fourth time that he had fallen sick that a nagging feeling began to pull at her. There was something not right about when he would fall ill, it felt almost cyclical. It uncomfortably reminded her of their old routine, and in some ways it felt as if it had never ended, that this was simply a new phase that only she was unaware of. She attempted to brush those thoughts to the side, convinced it was her own fear, her own guilt, speaking. Seeping through and attempting to create an explanation in order to release her from her own part in creating this.
Nonetheless the feeling persists, and each time he was ill she caught herself looking for an answer and constantly having to remind herself that there was none.
Until one evening she came upon a realization.
They were alone in the chapel, having decided to finish the evening in prayer together, and preparing to retire when Alfred asked her a question and suddenly it clicked.
Prior to his last illness they had dined together, just the two of them, something that had been sorely needed as they had not been truly alone in days, and he had gently taken her hand and asked if she would spend the evening with him. She had wanted to, it had been far too long since she had, but Edward had fallen ill, and ever since the marshes she could not bare to be away from her children when they were sick. Alfred had not said much, understood her reasons but she knew him well enough to see that her answer disappointed him. Disappointed him, and something else. Something that she could not name, and after she had pushed it to the back of her mind more concerned with Edward.
Alfred had fallen ill again not long after.
This, she was discovering, happened before each bought of illness. She had not thought of it again until now, when he asked her that same question, and again her response was not what he desired. He had that same disappointed demeanour he always did, but this time she caught what she had previously missed.
In anyone else she would call it desperation.
Unable to say more from the realization, she bade him good night, and as she began the walk to her room her mind raced to understand exactly what it meant.
She tossed and turned for hours. The search for an answer and inability to find one was sending her to madness.
Unable to bear it any long, she threw back the covers and grabbed her robe, and began the walk to her husband’s chambers.
——
There was an alcove by his room that she paused at, the trek helping to clear her mind and making her realize how absurd she was being.
She felt foolish. She had no plan and no idea what she was searching for. Other than a few odd coincidences and her own treachery there was nothing to indicate that there was anything to look for.
Turning to walk back, the door to his room opened. She instinctively hid, feeling even more foolish, and watched as Alfred left and turned down the corridor.
As she watched him recede, she felt a dread well up inside her. Why would he be leaving his room in the middle of the night? Unless –
Unless he had fallen into temptation once more.
An eerie calmness suddenly descended on her, and she began to follow as lightly as possible. But as they went on Alfred did not lead her to the servants’ quarters, rather to one of the lesser used palace exits that opened to the outskirts of the garden. The one that allowed easy access to the forest.
The one she had used on countless occasions to pick her mushrooms.
She watched numbly, as he walked into the forest.
——
She waited in a side corridor, attempting to convince herself that what she was beginning to believe wasn’t true, couldn’t be true, until she heard the door open, jolting her from her thoughts and signalling his return.
Waiting until his footsteps had receded a safe distance, she crept out and followed him to the reading room. Remaining in the shadows, mind racing, until she heard the door open once more and watched him walk away to, she assumed, the chapel given the path he took. Once he was out of sight, she quietly entered the room.
She fervently scanned the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary or oddly shifted, and seeing nothing began to rifle through things at random, unsuccessfully. Pausing in frustration, and trying to think of where else to look, her gaze momentarily fell on the beautifully carved wooden box resting on the table near the entrance to Alfred’s room.
She stared at it. Within it was a jewel Alfred had commissioned, something to be given to his messengers to provide authenticity that they were sent by him. A symbol of his kingship he called it. No one would dare rifle through it.
Hands trembling, she opened it and felt as if the air had been immediately sucked out of her.
There innocently sitting in the box was a mushroom. Pale with streaks of orange highlighting the base of it.
The same exact mushrooms she had used on him.
——
Later, still unable to believe what she had seen, desperately hoping it had all been a dream, she watched him eat.
And then the next day he was ill, and she felt as if the world had turned upside down.
——
She found herself at a loss as she tended to him. There were too many questions racing through her mind with no way of answering them. Did he know all along? If so, how long had he known? Why hadn’t he said anything, done anything? What she had done was not only sinful and against every law known to man, but it was treason. And more importantly why was he apparently poisoning himself?
So distracted by her thoughts the unexpected brush against her hand made her jump, until she realized that it was Alfred, who had been calling her name. She turned to hear what he needed, though she can only partially listen, her heart pounding in her ears as it had been these past few days, causing her to be distracted unable to attend him as she should.
From the way he had been looking at her these past few days, she knew he realized something was off with her and it was only a matter of time before he asked. But she was unprepared, she didn’t know what he would say, what he would ask, and it was leaving her off kilter. Even when she hadn’t understood how he had been falling ill she had thought it had been the result of her actions, but now–
All along, he had been allowing this.
It should bring her some relief. Her husband knew what she had done and had no plans to punish her.
But in truth, the thought didn’t comfort her. No, in fact, it enraged her.
All this time she thought she had been punishing him, had been making him see that he had no need of whores only her, instead he knew. Instead of her making him feel pain and misery when he betrayed her, he had been allowing her to hurt him, allowing her to show him her rage instead of her inflicting it on him.
Instead, it was something he wanted.
And it makes her want to scream.
It was her plan; it was her decision when he was poisoned. She controlled when he was sick and when he was better, she determined what she would endure and what she wouldn’t. At least that was what she thought. Instead.
Instead.
He was the one with the power, not her.
The mushroom were hers, she should be the one in control, not him.
Suddenly she felt another brush against her hand. The attempt to gain her attention anchoring her back to reality, and she realized how dark it was and wondered how long she had spent in her thoughts ignoring him, before Alfred called to her again. She did her best to swallow the anger she felt before turning to look at him.
But when she met his gaze, she was startled by what she saw.
In his eyes there was not frustration or anger, but instead misery. As if her lack of response translated to some doom.
She stared at him. Trying to comprehend that thought, and as she did, she could almost see him sink even more into his misery. As if her silence was her confirming some awful suspicion he had had.
Her thought shocked her and she renewed her efforts and attentions towards him. And with it, the more content he seemed to be. No matter how pained he is, or how often he must bend over his sick bucket, as long as she was by his side, holding him, his hand, or carding her hand through his hair, the more satisfied he seemed to be. As if all he had wanted was her.
And it made her realize that he was doing this for a reason connected to her, and as she tended to him she realized that the more affection she gave him the more content he was, and when she was distracted he was so sad and miserable.
He wanted her attention.
He craved her affection.
And it made her realize what she needed to do.
——
She planned for the next time he would poison himself. Carefully watching him, knowing the cues to look for now, and once he gave it, she waited until late in the night to go to the alcove and once she saw him leave his room she entered and waited for him. She heard when he entered the reading room, and when he left.
And she waited.
He came back and was startled to see her. He was so completely thrown off guard by her presence that all he could do is stare.
A long moment passed between them as they stared at each other, then just as he opened his mouth to speak she stood and began to walk towards the reading room.
As she entered the study and made her way to where the mushroom was, she heard him follow. She opened the box, and looked up at him while she took the mushroom out.
He was gaping at her in disbelief.
Completely caught off guard by what she had done, exactly as she wanted.
She rolled the mushroom between her fingers as they stared at each other for another moment, and without saying anything she left him standing there, still gaping, and returned to her room.
She would not provide him any answers or explanations. Alfred was clever enough to understand.
The mushrooms were hers to control. And she’d taken them back.
——
The next day he watches her intently while they eat. She speaks of nothing that could hint as to what her thoughts are, or what she’s planning. He’s unnerved, but she can tell he’s also curious, he wants to know what will happen.
She reveals nothing.
The next day he doesn’t fall ill.
——
A fortnight passed without incident.
They didn’t speak of it. In the moments they spent alone they didn’t speak of anything, far too preoccupied with other pleasurable sinful activities.
Alfred continued to watch her, at times with an almost frustrated look that seemed to ask when.
She continued to leave him unanswered.
And it was not until midwinter when she felt the need.
It was the midwinter witan, all of the ealdormen and their wives and their second cousins’ wives had come to bask and kneel and take up all of their time and attention.
They had not had a moment alone since it began, and after months of having Alfred’s undivided attention, it was beginning to grate on her. He was constantly waylaid by ealdormen and advisors eager to elevate their standing, the only moment of peace provided was in the evening allocated to being with the children. And while they retired together, Alfred was often too tired to engage in any intimate moments.
As much as it annoyed her, she could also see Alfred’s displeasure plain as day. And once again having Alfred torn from her side and brought into endless conversations, she made up her mind. After the midwinter, she decided, she would ensure there would be plenty of time spent together.
After all, the mushroom she had should be put to good use.
The thought lifted her spirits up, and as she half heartily nodded to acknowledge the priest speaking to her, she turned her head slightly to look for Alfred.
But out of the corner of her eye she saw something that turned her mood foul.
The woman was pretty, young - the unmarried cousin of ealdorman something of somewhere, and she was the sole occupant of Alfred’s current conversation. Batting her eyes and smiling coyly as they spoke, the obviously display of attraction and flirtation making her sick. But what truly captured her attention was Alfred.
He did not look pleased, but he did not look displeased either.
No, she decided, this would not do at all. How unfortunate that things would be cut short so soon.
As if he could hear her, Alfred turned and looks at her. But she ensured her face gave nothing.
——
The next day he watched her far more intently, as if he could feel the shift in her.
It wasn’t until they sat down to eat that she finally turned to him and smiled.
He ate every bit that was served, and the next day he fell ill.
And even though he’s unbearably ill, she had never seen him so happy. And she held him tenderly, he smiled at her. She carded her fingers through his hair as he lay against her.