Wedding

Sebastian's POV

The wedding was nothing more than a transaction, the seal on a deal made without my permission, as cold and calculated as the man who raised me.

However, when I saw Avery Walter walking down the aisle toward me, I froze.

She was dressed in pale silver, the gown hugging her slim figure like starlight clinging to midnight. Her dark hair fell in soft waves down her back, and for a moment, I forgot how to look away. The girl they called my bride looked like she belonged in a painting, not standing next to a crippled prince who could barely walk ten steps without assistance.

I should not have bothered.

But I did.

Not that I let it show. I remained motionless in my wheelchair, my hands clenched around the rims, as the court officials talked about duty, alliance, and unity. Words I had heard my entire life. Words that meant nothing.

She stood next to me, silent and composed. I gave a sideways glance. Her lips were slightly parted, and her hands trembled lightly.

She was anxious.

I nodded once when she introduced herself. I could not trust my own voice. My thoughts were louder than any words I could have said.

She is stunningly beautiful.

Too beautiful.

I hated that I had noticed.

The ring was then slid onto her finger and mine. Cold metal. A prison disguised as a promise.

The ceremony has come to an end.

But then there was commotion.

"This must be a joke."

My stomach clenched before I even turned.

Claire.

She stormed in, draped in red silk, her high heels clicking like gunshots on the floor. Her expression conveyed thunderous rage, betrayal, and desperation. A storm that was always difficult to contain.

"She is the one you married?" she hissed, pointing to Avery as if she were something found under a shoe. "You said it was temporary, Sebastian. That this would not occur!"

My spine tensed. The room fell silent.

I did not move. I did not respond. Now I only remember having a jealous girlfriend, Claire; if she had not come here, I would have forgotten I had a girlfriend due to the sudden betrothal.

"I suppose they were desperate," she sneered, moving closer to Avery, "if they are handing you over as a consolation prize. What did they offer you? Money? Land?"

I anticipated Avery's flinch. To shrink.

She did not.

Her posture straightened, like that of a queen.

"If you were that important," she said calmly, "you would not have had to interrupt the ceremony. "You would have been standing where I am."

Claire blinked.

That is when I gave Avery a serious look.

Claire let out a laugh. "You are just a substitute."

Avery's smile was calm and icy. "You must have been the trial version, then."

The room was filled with gasps.

I blinked, too.

I did not anticipate that response from someone who was coerced into this marriage. She did not falter, though; instead, she stood taller, her chin up as if she were wearing a crown that no one had given her.

Claire tried to speak again, but I raised my hand.

“You’ve embarrassed yourself,” I said quietly. “Leave.” I avoided staring at Claire.

Her eyes widened. "You are choosing her over me?"

I did not respond; I could not let her ruin my plans. I have been an obedient puppet to my uncle for all of these years, and now I can not refuse this marriage. I will need to inform Claire later.

My uncle, the king, watched with great interest, as if he were watching a show. "What do you want to do, Nephew?" My uncle asked, rubbing his moustache.

"Let her go," I responded, bowing my head, and Claire's eyes widened at what I had just said.

"Guards!" my uncle, the King, ordered. "Escort Lady Claire out.”

As Claire was dragged away, hurling curses and thinly veiled threats, I turned to Avery.

She did not immediately turn to face me.

But when she did, I saw it: pain beneath the poise, heartbreak wrapped in dignity. Her lips trembled, but her gaze never shifted away from mine.

She is stronger than she appears.

And smarter than they think.

I felt the same pull again. I had tried to ignore the strange stirring in my chest since we met.

I did not believe in fate.

But something about Avery Walter had me wondering if it believed in me.

After the day's chaos, the halls were unusually quiet. The guards' footsteps faded behind us as I wheeled myself to my chambers, the weight of a wedding ring heavier than a crown.

Avery followed silently, her silver dress trailing like moonlight on marble. She did not speak. Neither did I.

She did not cry. Not once. Not even when Claire yelled at her, or during the ceremony, which felt more like a sentencing.

I pushed open the door to my room and rolled inside. The fire was lit, flickering against the stone walls and creating warm shadows. A large bed sat in the center, sheets folded and untouched. A couch sat by the fireplace. There were two chairs and a low table by the window.

I paused.

She entered behind me, still silent, her gaze scanning the room before settling on me. She appeared tense, as if she expected me to lunge at her.

"I…uh..." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling unsure. "There is only one bed."

Her eyes widened slightly before she lowered her gaze. "I will sleep on the couch."

I frowned. "It is not very comfortable."

"I do not mind."

Her voice was quiet and sharp. Her arms were folded across her chest like a shield. Her walls were up, understandably.

We were complete strangers.

Strangers forced to wear wedding rings.

"I am not going to touch you," I said, my words dry and sharp, not as soothing as I intended. "You do not have to be afraid."

She looked up at me slowly, her eyes glassy but strong. "I am not afraid."

A lie. But a courageous one.

I nodded without calling her out. "Nevertheless, take the bed. "I will manage the couch."

"You can not even walk properly," she said, adding quickly, "I mean.."

I gestured with my hand. "You are correct."

A beat of silence.

We just stood there, looking at each other, unsure of how to be in the same room.

"Fine," I said finally. "Take the couch. I will sleep on the bed.”

Her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile, but they did not reach her eyes.

She walked to the couch, carefully wrapping a blanket around herself, and curled into a tight little ball. I struggled into the bed without looking at her again, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling.

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken emotions like anger, pain, confusion, and attraction.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

I turned my head a little. She was now sleeping, with a steady breath and softly parted lips. However, the couch was too small for her, with her knees drawn up awkwardly and her neck bent at an uncomfortable angle.

I sighed, swung my legs off the bed, pushed myself into my wheelchair, and rolled closer. For a moment, all I did was stare at her.

She does not belong here.

She should have had a better wedding, a better husband, and a better life.

I gently slid my arms under her, she stirred briefly, and I lifted her with more ease than expected. She was light. It was too light.

She fit into my arms as if she belonged there.

I carried her to the bed and carefully laid her down. Her hand twitched and brushed against mine, and I pulled back as if burned.

I really need to say that my uncle tried to find someone so beautiful to attract and distract me. No matter what I can't fall in love with the spy my uncle sent over as a bride.

As I left the room, I shook my head and let out a sigh.