✧. ┊ And I know you could fall
for a thousand kings.
𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁， 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇
𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋
𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇．✧˖*°࿐
george weasley...
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ONE
The sleek black Bentley glided through the countryside, its engine purring quietly as it devoured the miles to the grand estate where the reception was being held. Inside, Princess Victoria Grace Windsor sat rigidly beside her father, Prince Charles. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, broken only by the occasional hum of the tires against the road.
Victoria, now fourteen, stared out the window, absently watching the fields roll by. She smoothed her dress—a pale lavender, perfectly tailored—and adjusted the delicate silver bracelet on her wrist, her mother's parting gift before she left Kensington Palace that morning.
Charles sat beside her, his posture immaculate, his face unreadable. His sharp blue eyes flitted over her for a moment, scrutinizing her. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Victoria, sit up straight. You're slouching."
She sighed but complied, lifting her chin and rolling her shoulders back. "Yes, Father."
Charles crossed his legs and glanced at the folder of notes resting on his lap. "You'll be expected to make a good impression today. These people are vital to the stability of our international relationships. It's imperative you don't say or do anything to embarrass yourself. Or me."
Victoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I know, Father. I've done this before."
"Yet you still manage to be late to events, fidget in public, and speak out of turn," he replied coldly, his voice clipped. "School doesn't seem to be teaching you much in the way of discipline. If anything, it's encouraging bad habits."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm doing well in school."
"Are you?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "You never seem to bring home commendations or awards. No evidence of progress, just vague reassurances. You're fourteen, Victoria. You should be distinguishing yourself by now, showing signs of excellence. Instead, all I hear about are frivolities and—" He gestured vaguely. "Whatever it is you do there."
Victoria felt a pang of resentment rise in her chest. She clenched her fists in her lap, forcing herself to stay calm. He didn't know about Hogwarts, about her secret world. He couldn't know.
"I'm top of my class," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze.
"Top of your class in what?" he pressed, his tone dismissive. "Needlepoint? Etiquette? These are not the skills that prepare one for leadership."
Her voice grew sharper. "In everything. History, literature, mathematics..." Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, she added silently.
Charles scoffed, shaking his head. "Academics alone mean nothing if you lack poise and self-control. You've spent three years at that school, and I've yet to see any tangible improvement. You're still impulsive, still... unfocused."
