The Esteemed and Noble House of Prewett
The House of Prewett has existed for longer than anyone has cared to officially remember—longer still than anyone has successfully recorded. They are woven into the land itself: into the damp gold of Welsh autumns, into the forests and riverbeds, into the curling mists at dawn. They were once hearth-fellows and omen-carriers, harvest wardens and friends of the wild.
In ancient days, they honored Amaethon, god of the plough and the field, and Mabon ap Modron, the child of the turning year. Their magic was cyclical, fertile, liminal: the last warmth before the winter. In older tongues they were called Guardians of the Threshold, for they stood between seasons—between plenty and famine, life and death, gentleness and revolution.
In modern times they are quieter… but only on the surface. Autumn still runs in their veins.
The Legacy of Magical Twins
For reasons no scholar, priest, or politician has ever adequately explained, the Prewetts are blessed (or cursed) with Magical Twins. Not merely ordinary twins—these are something other. Their bond runs deeper than blood, stranger than mirrored faces.
Traditionally, only a pair of Prewett Twins may sit the family’s Wizengamot seat. Two voices, equal in all things. No lord above another. Balance as law.
Ancestral Autumns (1700s and onward)
By the late 1700s, the House was led by Viscounts Adrian Daniel and Aaron David Prewett—Magical Twins who held the ancestral seat of Everesley (not to be confused with the Muggle Eversley; they will correct you, politely).
Adrian, being the more romantic, married and produced another set of magical twins: Sebastian Adrian and Gabriel Nicholas Prewett, plus a daughter, Madeleine Sophia.
The Rabble-Rousing Brothers
Sebastian and Gabriel were notorious—charming, clever, and entirely too fond of turning Wizengamot on its ear just to see what would happen.
Sebastian married Maria Camila Barnes, and Gabriel married Sarah Olivia Abbott—a lovely union, but one which disqualified their pair from holding the seat. Conveniently, Sebastian’s sons were already prepared to inherit.
Madeleine, cherubic and cunning with sunshine in her smile, married Edith Elizabeth Macmillan. The match was politically sound and personally satisfying. She thrived.
Sebastian and Maria had their requisite twins: Daniel Sebastian and Michael Gabriel, plus daughter Emily Maria.
Michael, flamboyant and utterly uninterested in matrimony, refused to wed. Daniel took responsibility and married Vanessa Monica Lane.
Emily fell into the smile of the handsome and debonair Edgar Joseph Mills, the rogue.
Daniel and Vanessa bore—naturally—a set of twins: James Michael and Charles Daniel, and a daughter, Patricia Emily.
Charles, tragically, died in the Grindelwald conflict—a loss that cracked the family’s foundation. With no second twin to stand beside him, James could not hold the Wizengamot seat. It would wait, dormant, for the next pair.
James married Angelica Hanna Fawley and produced the traditional three: twins Ignatius James and Aloysius Charles, and daughter Muriel Angelica Prewett.
Ignatius and Aloysius were competent and well-suited for politics. But it was Muriel who upended the family legacy.
Muriel refused marriage. At sixteen, she became a really rather devastating duelist. When suitors requested her hand, she offered them a bargain:
“Defeat me, and I shall consider it.”
No one ever did.
Denied the Wizengamot seat by law, she seized power through gossip, alliances, and razor-edged diplomacy. For a decade, she led politics by the nose. There are still statues of people she outmaneuvered (they don’t know the statues are about her).
Aloysius maintained a rotating cast of lovers. Muriel found this distasteful. Ignatius, sensibly if somewhat surprisingly, married Lucretia Melania Black.
Muriel found this very distasteful.
Their polite warfare is still spoken of in whispers—a saga of lace gloves, dueling wards, sabotaged garden parties, and perfectly cordial assassination attempts (socially speaking).
Ignatius and Lucretia had three children:
Fabian Ignatius and Gideon Aloysius (twins), and Margaret Lucretia Prewett—affectionately known as Molly.
Fabian and Gideon were everything the Prewett legacy required: brilliant, brave, politically capable, terrifying in tandem. They were born ready to inherit the Wizengamot seat.
Molly… was different. She was warm where the House was sharp, earnest where they were theatrical. She loved fiercely and openly. She found aristocratic maneuvering exhausting. And at sixteen, she fell in love with Arthur Septimus Weasley—affable, unpretentious, genuine.
She refused to be dissuaded.
“Of course,” she said, “my brothers will carry the line. My brothers will inherit the seat. My brothers will marry and continue the family name.”
The news came in the dark.
Fabian and Gideon, the Twin Heirs of a thousand autumns, had fallen to the Dark Lord’s forces.
Molly's world shattered in an instant. Devastated, pregnant and struck silent with horror and sudden shocking grief; she went into labor.
And delivered a set of twins.
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
stormborns
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
areudirty
jacobvanloon
