“We never use transfiguration as a punishment, we only do appropriate punishments, like sending students alone into the dangerous forest at night”
7 more
Crying. Laughing. Dying.
Credit to
a/n: here is part one of three for my April Au.
warnings: historical inaccuracies abound. views mimic those of the time to the best of my ability. those being the need for an heir. but medieval king!peter is a feminist. i swear by it.
cross posted on ao3.
NEXT CHAPTER
*
“i wanna take you somewhere so you know i care,
but it’s so cold and i don’t know where.”
- another love; tom odell.
*
You didn’t know how you got here, and yet a part of you had prepared for it all your life. As you stared out at the crowd in the beautiful hall, your wrist tied to King Peter’s, you fully realized the immensity of your situation. A Queen to a country not your own—married to a man who barely looked at you during the vow exchange. The priest standing beside you on the dais spoke so many words, but none of them reached your ears. You could only focus on the way your hand bleeding hand presently tied to King Peter’s throbbed like a beating heart, echoing the way your mind screamed at you to be anywhere but there.
Bound to a man who barely acknowledged your presence as he swore fealty to you. Promised to love and cherish you as your husband. To never venture from your bed chamber—to provide the kingdom with an heir. Created with love, or at least the people of the court hoped for that.
You knew this was only an arrangement. A marriage bartered like mere goods at a market. Your country intended to supply Ayelandia with goods to sustain them through another brutal winter after a time of war. Mere politics, disguised by a charade of a wedding for the people to fawn over.
As if anyone cared.
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call me L // 23 || hufflepuff // booknerd || lover of cats, coffee, all things harry potter, marvel, stranger things & a:tla
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