The Magic in his Life
A/N: This story was written for the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition's Training Camp, Round 3. I am Chaser 1 on the Penzance Pegai, and my optional prompts were: 2. (word) biting, 4. (word) blushing, 8. (word) family. Additional notes are at the bottom (such as a tiny history). Word count: 2996 words (using Google docs and wordcountdotnet). Thanks to Shay, Zivvy, Di and Cara for their help!
1171 A.D.
"Temüjin, fetch me water. Then you must return to me and help clean my helmet," Dai Setsen said.
Temüjin nodded and hurried from the yurt, a bag in his hand. Only when he was far enough away did he allow the scowl on his face to show. Dai Setsen had been ordering him around for far too long. He knew he had to serve the man for the sake of his own tribe, but that didn't mean he had to be treated as a slave. When his older half-brother, Begter, had been sent to his betrothed's family, he had never had to do as much work.
It wasn't like Dai Setsen even needed his helmet cleaned, anyway. Everyone knew that the Khongirad never participated in battle when they could avoid it; their land was purely sustained by offering wives to the neighbouring clans.
Still, he knew the punishment for disobeying Dai Setsen, and he quickened his pace. At least the Khongirad had the forethought to build their town in a district with plenty of natural water resources.
Scanning the long winding stream below the hill, Temüjin searched for the best place to take the water. Dai Setsen's men had been on a hunting trip the night before and had carelessly left their kill by the stream, spreading disease. He crouched down, opened the bag and pushed it into the water.
"Khukh Tengri!"
He swore as he pulled the bag up and the water trickled out of the bottom. In his haste to get away from Dai Setsen, Temüjin had snatched up a bag with a large tear in the skin. The tear was too big for any quick repairs to be made, and there was no sap about to attach more material to it.
Glancing back up the hill towards the yurt, Temüjin's heart rate quickened. There was no way he would return empty-handed; after all, he did like that he was still able to walk. Swallowing, he turned back to the bag and tried to fix it. If he pinched the skin together and held it that way on his journey back, then perhaps he would be able to find a bowl or spare skin bag to place the water in.
"Hehehehehe."
Temüjin almost dropped the bag into the stream. Spinning around, he tried to find the source of the giggle. The land was pretty bare where the bottom of the hill fed into the stream, with only a few shrubs lining the water's edge. He narrowed his eyes at the shrubs and sure enough, the branches shook and the sound of giggling came again.
Temüjin slowly crept forward. The bag was still in his hand, and although it was light without water inside, it would make the perfect weapon should he need it.
"Who's there?" he asked.
The branches went still for a moment. Temüjin cocked his ear, trying to hear another giggle, but none came. Standing up, he closed in the remaining distance.
"I'm warning you; I come from the Borjigin clan and—"
"Boo!"
Temüjin reeled back, a hand going to his chest. It took him a few moments to calm his pounding heart before he glared at the girl before him.
"Do not do that!" he said.
Börte giggled and shook her head. "You're not my boss, and you're not that scary either."
"I will be your boss." Temüjin placed his hands on hips and snarled at the nine-year-old. "When we marry in three years, you will have to do everything I say."
Börte's eyes flashed and she put her own hands on her hips. "I doubt that. Anyway, until that happens, you have to do everything my father says and—" she looked towards the yurt, "—if I were you, I wouldn't keep him waiting."
Temüjin looked down at his bag and swore. He had almost forgotten about his situation and the time spent looking for the mysterious giggler certainly hadn't helped. He was certain to be beaten for this.
"Oh, stop fretting. Here, I can fix that."
Before he could protest, the girl grabbed the bag from his hands. Holding a hand over the bag, she whispered, "Reparo."
Temüjin shook his head. "You dare use words from those—those foreign devils?"
He didn't rebuke her any further, though, when she placed a finger to her lips and pointed to the bag. Before his eyes, the hole was shrinking as the skin expanded. He snatched the bag from her and held it up, his fingers running over the repaired skin.
"H-how?"
Looking back up, he saw Börte's dark eyes twinkling.
"Magic," she said with a wink.
"But—"
"If you don't want to be beaten, I'd suggest you hurry up and get that water."
Snapping out of his trance, he ran over to the stream. Scooping up some water, he then sprinted back up the hill.
On the crest, he glanced back, only to see Börte waving at him. He gave her a small smile and hurried into the yurt.
Perhaps life with the Khongirad wouldn't be so bad after all.
1178 A.D.
"You're not nervous, are you? We're finally doing this."
Temüjin rolled his eyes and looked at his betrothed. Börte looked more beautiful than she ever had before. Her long, shiny hair was decorated with the red tasselled hat the Khongirad were known for, and her skin was glowing. Despite all his faults, he had to admit that his father had chosen well from him.
"It's a lot of pressure I'm under."
Börte smirked. "Why? It's not like the fate of our two clans will be forever affected if we don't go through with this."
Temüjin glared at her. She ignored him, however, and walked over to the yurt's entrance. Peeking outside the flap, she gave a low whistle.
"It looks like everyone is ready. Best we don't keep them waiting."
He took a deep breath. Could he do this? Would his father finally be proud of him, even if he wasn't there to see it?
Börte turned back to him and her eyes softened. Walking over to him, she took his hands.
"Here, will this help?"
She placed a small seed on his outstretched palm. She then held her hands over the seed and whispered a few words. As they both watched on, the seed began to expand and soon an edelweiss was in full bloom.
Temüjin looked up and smiled. As annoying as she could be, Börte always seemed to know how to make him feel better. There was no one like her in the entire land, and he knew he would be a fool to let her go.
"I'm ready," he said, tucking the flower behind her ear.
Blushing—something Börte rarely ever did—the girl took his hand and led him into the awaiting crowd.
1187 A.D.
"Did you find anything?"
"I'm afraid not."
Temüjin gritted his teeth and surveyed the landscape. The smell of smoke wafted from the burning yurts, the sound of screaming civilians mixing with the thundering of the horses' hooves. He wasn't interested in how his men were fairing, though; he already knew they'd have no trouble conquering the Tatars. The villagers themselves were mere fishers and their warriors never tended to look after the settlements on the outskirts of their land.
No, what Temüjin wanted was a sign that Börte was still alive.
"Khan?"
He turned to his general and long-term friend, Jamukha, with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather focus on—"
"No." Temüjin's hands tightened on his reigns. "We shall not rest until she is found. We've done it before; we can do it again."
His general opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "I was just thinking… You see…" He licked his lips and looked away. "Börte is only your first wife. I know you care a great deal about her, but there are others. You wouldn't want another… incident… again, would you?"
Temüjin glared at the man, breathing through his nostrils. Jamukha meant well, but he of all people knew that Börte was his one and only love. No one could ever replace her, no matter what happened. He had thought he had proved as much when he accepted Jochi—a result of Börte's first kidnapping many years ago—as his own son.
"I'll go check the progress on the west side," Jamukha hastily said, digging his heels into his mount.
Temüjin watched his general ride along the field, his head held straight as he passed several bodies littered with arrows. Only when the man was out of sight did he sigh and rake his hands through his long hair.
He couldn't believe his wife had been taken—again. When the Merkit clan had taken her just after their wedding, she had only been gone for eight full moons. He and his men had had no trouble taking her back from the man she had been sold to. This time, however, he didn't feel nearly as confident.
He had thought they would be able to find where the Tatars were keeping her. As time passed and the trees became covered in snow, he began to wonder if the Tatars were more ruthless than he gave them credit for. Had they discovered that Börte was special beyond her status as his wife? Did they know what she could do?
He shook his head. He hadn't given up before, and he certainly wouldn't now.
"Father! Father! Come quick!"
Temüjin's head swivelled to the left and he saw Jochi cantering towards him. The boy's eyes were wide as he pulled to a stop in front of him.
"What is it?" Temüjin asked, pulling his hood over his head to keep out the biting winter air.
Jochi shook his head. With a trembling finger, he pointed to a spot just behind a clump of tents. "De-demon!"
His heart picked up speed and he dug his heels into his horse. With a neigh, his horse ploughed forward, heading in the direction of the tents. He could see blue sparks emanating from the side, filling him with hope.
Temüjin only slowed down when he neared the burning tents. Holding his bow steady, he guided his horse around the side. Several of his men were gathered in a circle, their own bows and swords raised. They were darting back and forth and shouting. No one was striking, however, and when Temüjin dismounted and pushed past them, he saw why.
His heart jumped to his throat as he stared at the woman in front of him. It wasn't his Börte, but somehow, that didn't matter. Her clothes were torn in several places and a boot was missing from her foot. Although they held a hint of fear, her eyes had a spark to them as she brandished a stick at his men.
"Stay back!" she said.
His men continued to dart about, but as the tip of the stick lit up, they took on defensive stands. A few of the braver warriors were trying to strike the woman from behind, but she turned the stick on them and a jet of blue light shot forth.
She couldn't be doing magic… could she?
"Enough!" Temüjin held up his hand. With a glower at each of his warriors, he said, "I will deal with this."
His men didn't argue. With their arrows still trained on the woman, they retreated with a yell. He knew that they had never witnessed magic themselves—Börte had always kept her powers secretive—but it was no excuse for their cowardice. Making a note to punish them later, he fixed his gaze on the woman.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The woman bared her teeth at him, her stick still raised.
Temüjin rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "I am not afraid of you. I repeat, who are you? Answer me, and you will not have to be afraid of me either."
The woman continued to brandish her stick, but the movements were less frantic. He could see her legs begin to tremble, her breath making clouds in the air.
"I am Yisui," she finally said, lowering her weapon.
When he took a step forward, she flinched. Temüjin took the opportunity and seized the stick, examining it in his hands. It looked no different to any ordinary stick, save for a small vine pattern etched along its length.
"How long have you been able to perform magic?"
The woman blinked. Licking her lips, she stammered, "I-I do not know wh-what you're t-talking about."
A small smirk rose to his lips. "Oh, but you do. This is your lucky day; I shall spare you from the fate of your family, and you shall come to live with me."
Yisui's face paled. Taking a step from him, she fell to her knees and began to sob. Her long, silky hair fell over her face, giving his heart a small pang. Was this how Börte was feeling right now? Had she been forced into being a concubine again, or to bear another illegitimate son?
No, his Börte was strong, fierce. She would be safe, and he would make the Tatars pay, starting with taking the magic from their lives as they had from his.
1192 A.D.
"Again, again!"
Temüjin clapped as Yisui waved her stick around. Several bluebirds emerged from the tip of it and circled the yurt's ceiling.
Yisui's tricks had increased over the years, her power growing stronger. At first, Temüjin had been repulsed by the woman's need to use the stick for her magic. Börte had never relied on such a method, her power coming from her heart, from Khukh Tengri itself. Nevertheless, he had grown accustomed to the difference, and often had to tell himself that Yisui was not there to replace Börte; she was simply there to keep his hope up.
Yisui gave a small bow and crawled over to where he was lying on the ground. She placed a small kiss on his temple before resting her head on his chest.
"May I please borrow your eagle later? I would like to send a message," she said, locking her eyes with his.
Temüjin sighed. Apart from learning new magic tricks, Yisui had also learnt the Mongols' art of persuasion. Still, he couldn't deny her request; after all, if she hadn't shown him how she and her family communicated with each other through the use of birds, he would probably never have been able to quickly send coded messages to his men.
"I will have to check it."
Yisui pouted. "You do not trust me?"
Temüjin shook his head. "My dear, there is only one person I trust in this world, and I made her my empress. My only empress." Yisui's eyes grew stormy, but Temüjin cut off her response with a kiss. Pulling back, he added, "But out of all my wives, you do come close."
Yisui huffed but snuggled closer. After a few moments of running her hand over his chest, she said, "Alright. I do suppose none of them can show you other magic, can they?"
Closing his eyes, he pushed thoughts of Börte from his mind and wrapped his arms around the woman. "No, they certainly cannot."
1193 A.D.
"We shall name her Altani," Yisui said.
Temüjin peered down at the baby wriggling against Yisui's chest. Whilst he had not been present for the birth, he had been told that the girl had come out of the womb holding a blood clot—just as he had when he was born. Although she was just another daughter to him, it was a sign that she had the potential to be a good leader.
"I need to go prepare for our next raid," Temüjin said, turning his eyes back to Yisui.
The woman pursed her lips. With a sigh, he leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Yisui gave him a small smile and he looked back at their daughter. The baby had finally ceased crying and was now looking around at them with wide eyes. Her hands reached up to him and he held a finger out to her.
The girl gripped onto his finger, pulling it towards her lips and biting down with her gums.
"At least she has a strong grip," Temüjin said, winking at his wife.
Rather than smiling, Yisui gasped. Looking at their daughter, he could see why. The baby had spat out his finger and pushed it away, screwing up her face. As she did so, the thin hair covering her skull turned from black to bright blue.
"No…" Turning back to Yisui, he shook his head.
This time, she smiled. "Yes."
He turned back to Altani and grinned. Börte had given him several daughters and sons, but none of them possessed magic. He couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes; fortune was finally on his side again.
"Perfect."
As he watched on, his daughter gave a small sneeze, and her hair changed to the colour of the cherry blossoms from the mountains.
"Father?"
Temüjin whipped around and shot a glare at the man who dared interrupt such a precious moment. Jochi dipped his head in a bow, but his smile showed that he was anything but sorry.
"This better be good."
Jochi stepped into the tent. He barely glanced at the two females and said, "It most certainly is. It's Börte—she's alive and unharmed. We're bringing her home now."
The world began to spin, and Temüjin didn't bother to hide his weakness. Falling to the ground, he wasn't sure if he should laugh or weep. He settled for both, the tears running down his face but his grin wide. His Börte was alive? After all these years, she was still alive?
"That's wonder—" Glancing back up at Yisui and his new, magical daughter, however, his face fell.
He had always wanted magic in his life but now, now he maybe had too much.
A/N: To some, Genghis Khan was a ruthless leader who massacred hundreds in his campaign to unite Mongolia. To others, he was a beloved leader who was the founding father of a modern nation. I did quite a fair bit of research on the man and was quite touched by the fact that among the hundreds of wives and concubines that were common to have during the time, Khan (or should I say, Temüjin) only had one Empress, Börte, whom he rescued twice from enemy capture. Did that mean he was really a big softie? I'd like to think so.
Regardless, this story is intended to be as respectful as possible. Although I have incorporated magic/ crossed-over history with Harry Potter (and was also inspired by the alleged fascination with magic that the leader had), I hope it will not be considered distasteful or disrespectful in any way. I simply tried to incorporate the prompt given for a competition and used the world of Harry Potter as a possible (completely fictional) explanation for his actions and general history. You never know—maybe Rowling was onto something ;)
All information has been researched as best as possible, with the nearest dates selected. All names are those actually known to historians, but their personalities may or may not have been altered based purely on how I imagine them as fictional characters and the information given, rather than their true-to-life forms.
"Khukh tengri!" also refers to the sky god that Genghis believed in (and although taking the name of a deity in vain is never recommended, I had to think of some swear word, and that was the closest I could think of… like when people say 'Jesus!'). I've had to do some research and everything I find gives two answers as to whether or not it should be italicised since it's both foreign but a proper noun. The best answer I was given was to emphasize it with italics when he uses it as a swear. If anyone knows any different, please do let me know!
I hope you liked this regardless, and if you have any suggestions as to how I could make it, even more, Harry Pottery before I hand it in tomorrow, I will love you forever! (Keeping in mind I'm one word off the 3000 max word limit). Xx