Like Everyone Else || @allectos
It was as though the universe had been listening to his thoughts and conversations. It’d only been a week since he and Amycus had discussed betrothals. The conversation had arisen out of his own suspicious, but still, it was ridiculous nonetheless. Here he was, sat at the Slytherin table with a letter from his father. When he’d spotted his Scops owl Dragomir he had expected to see his mothers delicate handwriting on the note dropped in front of him. Instead he was greeted with the thick, heavy-handed lettering of his father.
The note was short and concise, with no detection of compassion or empathy (not that he had anticipated that). It simply stated the facts: he was to marry Alecto Carrow, continue to form connections with his peers, and (finally) seal his fate with the right side.
Stoyan wished the letter didn’t make him furious. On the outside looking in, others might not have even noticed the anger spreading out from his chest into his fists. His face remained neutral, though the note crumpled underneath his fingers might have given someone a clue. “Предполагам, че е време,” he muttered, standing up from the table.
Finding Alecto turned out to be easier than he really wanted it to be. “I’m assuming you received the news as well?”
Alecto dreaded letters from her father. He rarely wrote to her, so whenever he cared enough to go to the effort of doing so, it was usually filled with something she’d rather not hear. Fail another test, and you’ll spend your entire summer in the basement. Or something more cheery, like, if you get caught and dirty our name, I will kill you. Fun father-daughter bonding. However, there hadn’t been any discretions on her part recently, and this letter was quite honestly, unexpected. Jaw clenched and nails pushing into the skin of her palms until those were bleeding, she tried to steady herself as she stared at the envelope.
It took her a minute or two to get over her nervosity, clean the blood off her hands with a napkin, and rip open the envelope at the Carrow wax seal on the back. Realizing she was in a public space, and that she had a reputation, Alecto let an ice-cold expression fall over her face — but she still could not help the sharp intake of breath as she read the message.
You will be marrying Stoyan Krum. No objections.
Her father didn’t bother with any more words, or even as much as a signature. He did not care, as long as she followed his orders. That was all that mattered. As she let the letter drift out of her hands and down onto the table, the voice of her — the word filled her veins with ice, but she supposed it was appropriate — betrothed greeted her.
“Can you break it off?” Her voice was soft as she asked, face set in a very un-Alecto kind of expression. “The betrothal. Can you break it?”
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