[ORIGINAL IDEA]
Having control over life itself remains as an unattainable idea for all with a beating heart. From poverty to wealth, love and hatred, peasants and royalty; choice is a luxury not even the wealthiest of kings could ever afford.
...
"It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages."
—Friedrich Nietzsche
| vœu: vow. |
~ • • • ~
10 février 1690 [ 10th of February 1690 ]
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AFTER witnessing the countless transgressions her father had committed against her mother during the grueling years of childhood, Madeleine d'Aumont expected to detect whenever a man was lying to her.
Instead, the beats of her heart pounded relentlessly in her ears as she stood in the mists of her own impromptu wedding. And as opposed to adoringly glancing at her new groom, Madeleine merely sulked over her heartbreak. It nearly killed her to think of the incomprehensible fact that Jean Moreau— the man she cared for was not only standing a few feet away as a witness to her own marriage, but did so while parading his soon-to-be wife by his side. After a plethora of promises and confessions of love from him, Madeleine would've never expected the swift turn of events. That of which was finding themselves committed to people who were no longer each other, or— in her case —in the process of wedding her betrothed.
She avoided looking at his face for her own sake. The blinding effect love had had on her was enough to make the young woman believe Jean meant his words; swearing on his immortal soul that he wanted no one but her. And yet there they were, one lovingly standing beside their future spouse as the other was in the act of having one.
Throughout the entire ceremony, the tears of joy she'd been promised to experience on her wedding day were all just as absent as she was. Letting tears of hurt, sorrow, confusion, and disappointment would've been much easier. That is, if she were able to snap out of the heavy trance in the first place. But maybe the inability to focus at all was actually a blessing she would be grateful for later. Glancing at Jean, Madeleine knew, would just make her seethe with anger.
And while thinking of anger, Madeleine noted that it was an emotion fairly noticeable on her soon-to-be husband's face. It seemed she wasn't the only one dreading their union.
The priest's muffled words bashed against her head— none of them entering for comprehension or acceptance. After all, the reality of what would follow after such a depressing occasion choked every ounce of her remaining hope. This wasn't the wedding she wanted, nor expected. And besides, what would come next? She would be wed to a man she barely knew, much less care for. How did it all become this?
