A Respectful Request (Hathor & Marcus)

Hathor had no other choice. When the owl arrived at her home, her mother had rushed upstairs to her room to inform her that her future husband had arranged some sort of a gathering so they could meet each other. Or do all those Pureblood things they were supposed to do. Traditions that Hathor found boring. But that was for what she had be preparing her whole life.

Even if she explained to her mother, bit obviously not her father, that she didn't want to get married yer, Antoinette told her that there was no other choice for her. And that the family she was supposed to be marrying into was a very wealthy one. With prestige. She would have a very high place in the Pureblood community. And the her mother started gossiping about how handsome their son was, and how lucky she were to be marrying him. Well, not yet.

Hathor sighed, knowing that she really had no other choice but to make herself presentable and get ready for this meeting. Having a few house elves to help her, Hathor slipped into a dark red dress and a pair of gold heels, before doing her makeup and hair. Walking down the stairs where the family was waiting for her, Hathor forced a small smile.

Her father was dressed in a black suit, matching her mother's black dress. And nearby stood her brother, Frederic, dressed in a suit as well.

"Ready?" Frederic asked, and Hathor took a deep breath, nodding at him. Descending the rest of the stairs, Hathor took ahold of Frederic's offered arm, before they all apparated out of their house, and outside a gigantic manor. Hathor's eyes went wide at how beautiful the place look, and she was frozen in place, feeling awed.

Frederic chuckled and leaned it to whisper in her ear that this could be her home soon enough. That seemed to shake Hathor out of her dream state, and she looked seriously at Frederic.
"You know I don't want to.."
Frederic sighed and cupped her cheeks. "It is a very good opportunity, Hath, don't waste it."

Hathor sighed and nodded. Her father knocked on the door, and Hathor took the opportunity to turn and ask Frederic which family they were going to meet. Cause surprisingly, no one bothered to tell her anything about this. Nor that she was being betrothed. But Frederic didn't have the chance to answer the question, since the door opened, and Hathor felt her heart stop. This couldn't be real.

The moment the door opened, Hathor wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. What was happening at that moment could not be understood by the French Witch. First there was the father that appeared on the door, and for some reason he reminded her of something, or better, someone. But she didn't have much time to fumble with her thoughts since the man named Dominic, Frederic had the time to whisper the name of the man to her, quickly ushered them inside, only for Hathor to freeze the moment her eyes landed on one specific person in the room.

This had to be a joke. A very bad joke.

The man went on introducing his wife, but Hathor didn't catch her name, since she was too busy staring at the older brother of the family. Who was none other than the English jerk that had visited the Louvre Museum just yesterday. Hathor wanted to turn to Frederic and laugh, telling him that this was all a funny joke to mess with her, but she just couldn't do that. And Frederic wouldn't do something like that. Which left only one possibility.

He was the man she was supposed to marry.

Thankfully, her father spoke up, breaking her nightmare, because this was definitely not a dream.
"Thank you for having us, Dominic. May I introduce my family as well! My wife, Antoinette, and my two children, Frederic, the oldest, and Hathor."

Marcus moved closer to them, and as of instinct, Hathor took a step back, earning a weird look from both her father and brother. Clearing her throat, she smiled sweetly and whispered that she accidentally slipped, and that she was okay.
But the way Marcus shook hands with her father, and kissed her mother's hand, while giving her that smile, made the witch want to slap him hard across his cheek, The cockiness could be spotted a mile away. She was disgusted by him.

"May I be so bold as to ask permission to show Mademoiselle Hathor the gardens? Quintin is quite happy to play the part of chaperone if it pleases you."


No, Hathor thought but she did not dare to speak. Though the fact that Marcus offered his brother to accompany them instead of hers, meant there was something going on. Hathor was smart, but before she could offer to have her brother with them as well, Marcus spoke up again, being the smartass he is, making sure there was no possible way of Frederic to come with them.

"I wouldn't wish for my future bride to be bored with politics and business deals."

"Yes, that would be Frederic's strength, I have to admit. Monsieur Marcus, you have my permission." Francis then motioned for Frederic to follow him, and with an apologetic look to Hathor, he released her hand, turning away.
Hathor immediately glared at Marcus when the rest of the family was far enough, unable to understand what he was doing.

"Tu es incroyable! Comment oses-tu?!" Hathor was so furious that the English part of her mind would not function. After mumbling various things in french, she finally took a few breaths to calm herself, before she looked back to Marcus once again. "I am not going anywhere with you!"

"I am amazing, you're quite right."


"I said you are unbelievable. In a bad sense! Don't you dare alter my words!"
Hathor was furious. Furious with her family for not even bothering to tell her that she was getting betrothed in the first place. Furious that they didn't bother to tell her that the family she was supposed to be meeting were the Westbrooks. And she was also furious with this man, who obviously knew who she was and what was going to happen between their families, and took advantage of her ignorance.

"I told you she was a fiery one, didn't I, Quin?"


As both brothers burst into laughter after Marcus' comments, Hathor couldn't hold back any longer. Raising her hand, Hathor slapped Marcus hard across his cheek, but no look of panic took over her features. Hathor was strong, and since Marcus wanted to play like that, she was going to face him just the way he wanted to be faced.
"I am no sight to laugh with, Marcus. When you talk to me, it will be with respect. And that is an order."


"We don't have to go anywhere, if that pleases you more, though. Don't you worry, we can stay just here, if that is what you want. However, I fear that you will not be able to find your family so easily, so you might as well try and enjoy our company."

Hathor had to accept the truth in his words, and even though she hated to admit he was right, she swallowed hard and nodded once. She had to stay with them, until this visit was over, but it was not going to be against her.
"Well, why don't you show me to your Gardens, like the good boy you are."
The sarcasm was obviously dripping from her every word as she turned around, and started moving away from Marcus. Distance was good.

"It's funny, you know, how easy it is to rile you up."

Hathor rolled her eyes at that and turned to look at Marcus once again, a smirk on her lips. Men were all the same. And their view on women didn't change much. "You men view us as some sort of a game. A challenge. You think this is funny. Getting on somebody's nerves, bringing them to their knees, once you find their weakness. And it is, indeed, some sort of power."

A dark smile touching her lips, Hathor moved closer to Marcus, standing, once again, right in front of him.
"But what happens when you run out of tricks, Monsieur Marcus? For how long do you think you will be able to have the upper hand? There will always be someone better than you. Pray you don't stumble upon him sooner than you expected. Or well, you might already have."

Giving him a sweet smile, Hathor distanced herself once again, but turned to look at him, the powerful aura that surrounded her back in place. "Shall we get moving now? I can't wait to see your Gardens. They must be way bigger than your ego."

"Oh, I don't plan on running out of tricks, don't you worry, I've only just started."


Hathor had to laugh at that statement, knowing well enough that those words were simply thin air. Hathor was intelligent enough and she knew that everyone run out of tricks eventually. Simply, because everyone had his weaknesses, and because no one was perfect. Marcus, even though he was trying to hide it in his own way, was exactly the same. He had his weaknesses, and he would eventually run out of tricks. And Hathor would make sure to be there and enjoy every second of it, as he fell to his knees in defeat.

But instead of thinking about him, since he was nothing of interest to keep her attention, Hathor took a look around the Gardens. Truth be told, they were just as beautiful as the ones back at home, and that allowed her the comfort to think that if she ever married Marcus, and was forced to live here, these Gardens would be her getaway. A place where she could feel like home.

"So, come now, why did you get so riled with the British opinion of the French?"

"I didn't."

"France is known for their whores, after all. Unless I am mistaken? But, I did happen to see a number on my travels. Not for my personal advantage, though, an easy woman such as a whore was never my type, I much prefer the feisty ones who make it difficult for me."

Hathor stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Marcus with a very serious look. But before she could hold on to it for long, she burst out laughing. A natural laugh, not anything fake. Something that rarely ever happened with the French Princess. Marcus had brought some feelings to the surface it seemed.

"You're funny, I will give you that."
Hathor then kept on walking, taking the time to smell around the flowers that were nearby, and admiring the unique colors.
"You have a beautiful house..." Hathor told him, not the least afraid to compliment him. Hathor was superior than Marcus.

"Well, you seemed quite upset with the term whore in the museum. Unless, of course, you thought I was calling you a whore... in which case... you either have a very big talent that would make your mother faint, or you're quite the sensitive little French girl. Of course, my not knowing you could never deem to think that I would know to the answer to such things."

Hathor shurgged at that. The way he was using his words proved just how cunning and sly Marcus really was. He obviously wasn't fond of her, and she could say she felt the right way. But he was trying, incredibly hard, to get her to be mad again. But Hathor would not give him the pleasure of seeing her like that again. She was a Pureblood bride. And she was going to act like one. Even if he didn't like. Because this was Hathor. And she was not just like every other girl.

"I hate to be called a whore just because I might be talented in something, Monsieur. These are cheap comments from cheap men. I pay no mind to them."
And that was the truth. Hathor did not care about what low life people believed. She knew who she was, and quite a few Purebloods did too. She didn't have to worry about her reputation.

Though his answer to her comment didn't draw any reactions from the girl. Maybe he believed that this was one of his best assets, but so far, she could not spot not even one of them. If he had any. But well, she shouldn't be mean. Everyone had some good assets, and maybe, just maybe, he was simply hiding them, much like she did. He didn't open up to people, the same way she did.

"My father has a nice house. But, one day it'll be ours, I suppose."

Turning to look at him, Hathor raised an eyebrow. Neither wanted this marriage, obviously, and Hathor couldn't help but shake her head at that. She didn't want to live with him. Not now, not ever. He was a terrible man with a terrible sense of humor and no manners. He was a cocky Englishman. That was exactly what he were.

"If the price your parents offer is enough, of course."


"Sadly, for the both of us, they will. I know my parents, and they like you and your flattering ways. So unfortunately, I might be forced to be with you for the rest of my life. How lucky am I? At least the house will take my attention away from you.."

Waving her hand as if to dismiss that subject, Hathor walked towards a fountain she spotted nearby and took a seat at the edge of it, staring at her reflection. She looked beautiful, exactly what every Pureblood would want. But what did she want really? And what did Marcus want? Because he certainly didn't want a woman like her.

"Tell me, do you have a big enough Library? Oh and also a piano? If I am supposed to marry you, these two are a must." Hathor then turned her attention away from Marcus once again. She didn't want to be near him.