a/n - This was originially written for The D/G Fic Exchange! Nimph wrote the prompt, and i wrote the story - i am in awe of her for this awesome prompt. I'm going to include that post at the top as well, so if you dont want to read it, just skip down to the story :)
Lin's Prompt (1):
Basic outline: Arthuric AU. Draco is an errant knight. He stumbles on another knight (you choose) escorting lady Ginevra somewhere, they fight, he wins. He keeps Ginevra-- he falls for her but she won't have him unless (of course) she proves himself worthy.
Must haves: Happy ending. Appropiate language and imaginery. A tournament, or jousting. Family rivalry. Secret courtly love.
No-no's: Married Draco or Ginny.H/G. Wedding. Character death. Love potions.
Bonus points: Draco has a Slytherin squire. = Draco diguises himself in order to enter the tournament/jousting without being known by Ginny (which might work, or maybe Ginny prefers Draco no matter what this new knight says). = Draco fights with a total of three Weasleys. = Ginny was going to become a nun/marry someone else before Draco got her. = Dumbledore is a king. = There's a magic sword. = Lucius is a king. = Draco is afraid of being scarred in the face. = There is a secret meeting in a garden at night. = There is a giant to fight. = Snape is alive. = People swear loyalty to other people. = Draco and Ginny dance.
A/N: Lucius and Draco are not actually father and son in my fic. Lucius Malfoy and Orion Malfoy – Draco's father – are first cousins, making the relationship between Draco and Lucius first cousins once-removed. For future reference, Scorpius is Lucius's son, and Narcissa Lucius's wife. Scorpius is 8.
Also, Graham is actually in the HP books. No, I didn't just make him up. In the books, he was sorted into Slytherin during the 4th book.
Summary - Arthuric Era:Draco,an errant Knight,saves Lady Ginevra from a grave fate,and discovers secret she carries,one that threatens to rip apart their the midst of it all,they find time for tournaments,valiant fights,and secret love. side of BZ/HG
Chapter 1: Her Freedom Forever
The sky was a deep indigo, the eastern horizon just turning a light cobalt blue in preparation for the new day.
It was time. This would be her final attempt, she vowed, because this time, she would succeed. This time above all others, she would leave this manor and its confining walls forever.
Little did she know how right she was, but at the same time, she delivered herself unto another circumstance, with an outcome far more threatening to her independence than being trapped and broken of spirit in the manor: losing her heart.
Ginny took a deep breath, then dashed from the back kitchen door to the stables. Her pack jounced against her back as she ran, but she paid it no mind. She was focused solely on her escape.
Not a single stable boy was yet awake, yet still Ginny moved quietly through the well furnished stables. She worked quickly and efficiently, tacking the small mare expertly. She gave a final adjust to the saddlebags and then attached her bow and quiver. She easily mounted from the ground, pulling herself with great strength into the saddle. She had thought farther ahead this time, planning to ride her horse and preparing by wearing a peasant's loose white cotton shirt and deep brown pantaloons. She covered her fiery hair by pinning it back and covering it with the same brown colored headcloth.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she passed the gates. Nott, Lord of the manor, considered himself such a good tracker that he needed not guards to watch the gate in the early hours.
At the bottom of the hill, Ginny reined in Sundance and briefly reviewed her options. She had already picked the only option left to her: the forest. Heading across the plain had done no good, as Nott caught up with her in no time at all.
No obstacles lay in her way, and so she continued upon her chosen path, headed for the forest. Although she had a course, it was good to know she had choices should she need of them, rather than be shunted one way or another, like a leaf in the hands of Fate.
She prayed Destiny held her leaf today, making this as simple and easy as possible. Firmly ignoring the pounding of her heart, she set her horse's direction straight for the forest. It was the most direct route to the heart of her country, where she must be in order to speak with her king. She was facing things head-on in more than one way.
Among the peasants, who were her servants in the manor, it had been long whispered the dangers of The Black Forest. Oversize creatures, not just giants, but rats of abnormal size who lived on the flesh of unwary travelers, unverified tales of impossible things, like walking trees, and worse – bandits, and rogue knights.
This was where Ginny's path was leading her. She had never yet ventured beyond the first line of trees – if she was looking for edibles or game, there were more friendly stands of trees to the back of the manor.
As her horse thundered into the forest, the sky behind her turned brilliant shades of red, orange, and pink, the darker blues and purples cast away until the night, as if even the very sky itself was bestowing luck upon her.
She slowed Sundance down as her horse began on the path into the woods. Where she entered, there was a wide path, clearly showing where others had trod before. The path continued for several feet before dramatically narrowing down. Another few minutes, and the path dwindled even more, staying just wide enough for about one horse to pass through.
The trees closed in, looming over her head threateningly. Ginny was forced to dismount as the low lying tree limbs began to terrorize her. She fervently hoped that the path would widen for her to be able to ride her Sundance again soon.
The Black Forest was aptly named – although by this point she knew the sun had fully risen and was beating down upon the land, there was only a slight tinge of light upon the deep green leaves surrounding her. Shadows still ruled beyond the path, rustling at every movement, as if tracking her.
She tore her mind away from the danger of the forest and set her mind to the task ahead. She had to arrive to the king, for she knew as fact none of her letters had reached him. In order to complete the task she had set herself, she must remain uncaptured and alive, and for this she had plotted meticulously to stay one step ahead of Lord Nott. Her message to the king was urgent – Nott was a traitor. He was conspiring with others from a nearby kingdom, scheming to remove the monarchs from both kingdoms from office and replace the previous monarchs with themselves. She alone knew the name of the other conspirator: Marcus Flint.
His treachery fueled her anger and thus her energy through the long day. She stopped once, at midday, to water and give her horse a slight rest, while she consumed a meal of bread and cold meat to keep up her strength. The meat was salty, and she wanted to boil the salt away, but she knew she had not time to prepare a fire, nor did she dare risk an unprotected fire that could be seen.
When the shadows began to loom, Ginny's anxious glances skyward grew more frequent. Finally, before the last bit of light died away, she quickly set up camp, allowing Sundance to graze nearby.
She dug a fire pit, a deeper and more careful one than usual. As the night grew more steadily upon her, she lit the fire skillfully and set a stone atop the flames to roast her beef strips. Right after setting up her bedding – which was naught more than a thin blanket to wrap around and her cloak as a pillow – she changed into a dress to keep warm, keeping her pantaloons on underneath.
Sundance was no war horse, but she had been trained how to warn her mistress of danger and keep her safe from minor attacks. Ginny was but a lady, after all. Ginny cast a final glance at Sundance, and thought perhaps she was safe enough from ones who would cause her harm in this forest.
It was a deep and dreamless sleep she fell into.
She woke up to her horse neighing in her ear, a rather nervous sound, Ginny thought blearily. Before she could do more than sit up, casting the blanket aside, a horse came forth from between the trees, bearing a mounted and armored man. He had on full plated armor, complete with a full helm, the visor down, and his shield was deliberately covered, keeping her from identifying him.
Until he took his helm off, and with a smug smile, revealed himself. He reveled in the frightened look she gave him, and the sharp gasp only encouraged him.
"I didn't think you had the courage to enter here, Ginevra." Lord Nott addressed her with a victorious sneer. "I was beginning to think perhaps you had outsmarted me at last." He jerkily dismounted, keeping a firm grasp on his stallion's reins.
She scrambled to her feet, muttering curses under her breath. She had been so sure of herself!
"My dear lady," Nott said, a false look of pity upon his face, "Shall thou accompany me back to my manor? It is highly improper for thou to be wandering without an escort." He bared his teeth in what was obviously meant to be a smile.
Ginny gritted her teeth. His use of the formal language to her bothered her more than she had thought it would. She ducked around Sundance and prepared herself for the day, even though this day was overcome by Lord Nott. However, she took the time to slide an arm sheath upon her lower arm, complete with a jeweled dagger inside. She thought this would be one of those times she would be grateful for it.
Defeated, she hastily repacked the rest of her camp into the saddle bags. With the dress, and no way to change in front of Lord Nott, she was forced to allow Nott to lift her by the waist to mount her horse. He took her horse's reins and looped them around them horn of his saddle before mounting himself, then drew her horse aside of his.
He tugged a length of rope out of his saddlebag.
"Come." He beckoned impatiently for her hands, and securely tied them together before wrapping and tying off the remainder on the pommel of her saddle.
She looked at him with wary eyes as he clucked to his horse. He'd never tied her up before. He urged his stallion onto the dirt path and hers obediently followed. He turned Ironheart homeward.
Helplessly, Ginny looked backward, at the path that curved just slightly out of view. She had been so close. If not for being captures, she would be well on her way by now.
Even though it was well into the day, she often looked towards freedom, even thought Nott had threatened her with the back of his hand should she disobey him and look back again.
"No help comes for you…. My lady." He hissed the last word, and Ginny involuntarily shuddered. She stiffened her shoulders and refused to look at him. Ginny was not his lady now, nor would he ever be her lord, she swore to herself. Never. She knew he wanted her for himself, and knew someday her king would command her to marry, since she was under his commands. Yet still, though she was 19, she knew not who she was to marry. But Nott was high in favor with the king, and might use his favor to convince him marriage between Nott and her was best for the country.
She allowed the bitter pain of disappointment to wash through her once more, and decided it was far past time to come to terms with these emotions. She would glance back one final time, and look back no more.
Ginny resolutely began to face front once more when a flash of sliver caught her eye, and she whipped her head back to stare so fast her neck spasmed painfully, and her hands jerked at the ropes viciously.
"Face front!" Nott snapped. He brought his hand down across her arm, and the sting caused her to cry out. His hand was encased in steel, his fingers in chain mail, which dug into her skin.
Severely pushing her luck, she craned her neck, peering for the silver, but it was seemingly gone as quickly as it had appeared and given hope to a weary, discouraged body.
Then a man rode into view, and she cried out.
"What now, girl?" He demanded of her as he would speak to a lower class servant. He drew in a sharp breath as he too spied the man rapidly approaching.
He threw Ginny's reins across the pommel of her horse – not that she could do much with her hands so harshly tied – and then he wheeled his horse around to face the intruder.
Ginny strained her hands once more to reach the dagger sheath, but it was too far up her arm. She dejectedly stopped, and began to pay attention to the scene unfolding before her.
The man looked vaguely familiar, Ginny thought. To her, he was like a vision, his chin length blond hair flying back from his angular face as he cantered his horse with graceful ease. He rode his horse far more smoothly than Nott, with poise and effortlessness. She began to note the other differences between the two men.
Instead of heavy plate armor covering his chest and arms, he wore chain mail only covering his chest, and thick leather around his arms. His legs were the only thing thoroughly protected by plate mail. His shield was a kite shield, making the shape of an upside down peasant house instead of a rectangular shield.
That symbol on his shield….Ginny frowned. The coat of arms, his family crest, rang a bell within her mind. A snake, and…was that a mace, a weapon with spikes attached to it? She knew for certain she had been warned about that crest once, and scandal was surrounded with it. Her eyes shot back to his face as she realized who he was just as Nott spat his name.
"Malfoy." Nott's face was a look of pure hatred. "The errant knight, who left his loyalties behind as his family left their duties behind. It makes sense you would waste your time in here."
Draco Malfoy – the name sparked cold shivers up Ginny's spine. She had been younger, but aware of what was happening when the Malfoy scandal took place. But was he friend or foe? The question bounced around inside her mind, and she could do naught but wonder fearfully. Was she to get out of one bad situation only to be thrust into another?
"Nott." His eyes lingered on Ginny, took careful note of her bound hands. "A new hobby?" he maliciously inquired, curling his lip in disgust. "Surely even you wouldn't go so far as to hurt a lady."
"A runaway." Nott replied scornfully, giving her a withering glance. "Worth almost naught for my troubles."
"Well, then." Malfoy's expression was suddenly one of spiteful glee. "Why don't I just take her off your hands?"
Anger boiled up within Ginny. "I am not a runaway peasant!" she lashed out, the heat of her fury directed at Nott.
"Shut up, girl, and don't lie." His voice held the promise of retribution for later. Without thinking, she cringed slightly before recomposing herself and drawing a deep, unsteady breath.
"I must admit, Nott, I am surprised you would treat a lady under the jurisdiction of the king in such a way." Malfoy's voice was steady and strong, and would take no insolence from Nott.
"Just a girl." Nott snarled. His hand rested on his sword, as if he wanted nothing better than to destroy Malfoy where he sat.
Malfoy took the next step, and drew his sword. For a moment, Ginny was mesmerized by the sword. The hilt was encrusted with deep indigo gems, the like of which she had never seen before. There were designs and inscriptions wrapping like a forest vine around the sword, white against the silver blade.
Both began to move their horses in a circle, taking an assessment of each other's strengths. It was like a dance, Ginny thought. Although it was a fight, she could not look away; it had laid claim to all her attention.
Nott was the first to strike, making his horse lurch across the circle and wildly swung at Malfoy. Malfoy, a ghost of a smile upon his lips, flicked away the stroke with his own sword, and Ginny swore white sparks flew as the two swords met.
It wasn't long before Malfoy led his own attack. Surprisingly, there were no insults exchanged, no mean words traded, just the concentration of two men who truly hated. And it was Malfoy who drew first blood, a nasty scratch across Nott's cheek, and the blood poured from the wound. Each time their swords met, Ginny confirmed the white sparks that flew from Malfoy's sword. And each time he drew blood – for he knew thoroughly the workings of plated armor, and exactly where to slide his sword between the plates – the designs on the sword glowed platinum white, and appeared to be burning hot.
Ginny's horse jolted back, frightened by the flashing swords. The action slid her arm sheath down her arm, just enough. She grinned triumphantly, and carefully manipulated the ropes so her right arm could push the sheath around enough to grasp the hilt of the dagger. Then she carefully teased the dagger out and awkwardly held it between both her hands and began to saw. She knew she was missing the battle, but understood that perhaps becoming free could be more important than the outcome, which was predictable. Malfoy had always had an affinity for fighting. Before everything that had happened with his family, she'd seen him in the practice yards as a squire, learning the knowledge needed to become a knight for his country, and often going above and beyond where fighting was concerned. The ropes fell down, and she rubbed them, wincing at how chafed the ropes had caused her wrists to become.
Nott was fighting wildly now, swinging his sword like he had never learned to wield one, fighting like a crazed man. And perhaps he should be, after all, the very thing he was fighting for was his life. Ginny knew he cared naught for her, only about his reputation at the moment – now was not the time to be caught as a traitor, not when plans had yet to be set in place and performed. She was just trying to decide whether she should stay and watch the fight be finished, or allow her horse to gallop away from the fight so she might still escape when the fight was suddenly over.
Malfoy's horse was suddenly shoulder to shoulder with Nott's, and with a quick flick of his wrist, Nott was unhorsed, and with a loud clang, collided painfully with the ground. He moaned once agonizingly and twitched, then fell silent and moved no more.
Ginny knew the fight had exhausted Malfoy by the way he ever so slightly slumped in the saddle. He turned his horse to face her, keeping his left arm very still as he did so.
She knew her face went pale with shock and – fright? "You're hurt." She managed to get out. It was more than hurt. His arm was pouring blood, and his leather covering was completely soaked. She couldn't tell if he was more pale than usual, or if the paleness was just exhaustion. He walked his horse over to her.
She dug almost frantically for her blanket, and then securely wrapped it around his arm.
"Thank you." He quietly acknowledged her help, although he understood she need not help him when she knew not whether he be friend or foe. He met her eyes. "I have made camp a short ways back. You are welcome to come with me."
Slowly, she nodded her head. He had hurt Nott, whom would have hurt Ginny worse had he the chance, and to Ginny's way of thinking, this rather made him trustable. She would save her valuable knowledge of Nott's activities for the morrow, or at least the night, when Malfoy was no longer bleeding.
A boy of about 15 looked up, surprised, when Draco, soaked in blood rode into camp, and Ginny followed close behind.
"A… a lady, my lord?" He finally asked, then hurried over to help his knight dismount.
"A lady." Draco confirmed as he carefully dismounted. Still, the injury was great, and Ginny noticed him swallow back a gasp of pain. "I have retrieved Lady Ginevra from Lord Nott's clutches. He was treating her like a common peasant, claiming her to be a runaway servant."
The boy's eyes went wide, and he shot Ginny a quick, sharp glance before returning to his duties tending his lord.
"Sir…" Ginny ventured tentatively. "I've been trained fair as a healer, and I know for fact the forest around us holds many herbs that I might use for a poultice to aid your arm."
Malfoy gave her a direct look. "Wander not far from our campfire, Lady, by keeping within sight our flames at all times."
Ginny nodded her assent, and began a search. It took not long to find what she needed, and being away from the campfire was quickly destroying her nerves. It was at almost a dash that Ginny hurried back to the campfire, even though there was more light than usual in their clearing far off the beaten path.
Malfoy did nothing but flick his eyes in his direction when she returned. His armor was off, and the boy was gingerly removing the left arm leather.
"You'll need to stitch that up after you clean it." His voice was almost mesmerizing to Ginny, and it took him a minute to gain her attention. His voice was annoyed when she came to attention. "Ginevra. I'm so glad to see you've rejoined us here." He was sarcastic and obviously annoyed by her mind wandering. She narrowed her eyes. After all, it was his fault for her wandering.
"This is my squire, Graham. Although I do not follow the written path of knights, he is still my squire and eligible for knighthood."
Ginny wasn't paying attention again. She turned away from him and to his supplies, quickly digging out a bowl and pouring water from the pitcher into it. With simple competence, she mixed the herbs, manipulating her affinity for healing properly to heal him faster. She herself was no mage, for she wielded no battle magic, but her own skill lay in charms. Her poultices and syrups were twice as effective as other woman's. She knew she inherited this skill not from her own mother, who was too busy being a 'mother' to whip up potions, but from her grandmother, who carefully taught her when her grandmother realized what she had inherited. Ginny had also been charged with using her healing only for good, for with the healing she had inherited the ability to harm.
"Water and rags." She crisply commanded the squire, not realizing it was Malfoy's squire she was giving demands to while involved in her curing. He hesitated a moment and looked at his lord. Draco gave his acquiesce, and Graham hurried to do her bidding.
With a nod of thanks, Ginny accepted the rags and directed Graham where to stand while he held the large bowl for her. She dipped the first rag into the bucket and began to clean the wound thoroughly.
He yelped as she pressed the rag hard into his wound, and stepped up his complaining. She worked a large piece of dirt out, not sure how the dirt got in there in the first place.
"Faith, sir, and you may live to keep the arm." Ginny replied insolently.
He didn't exactly cease his complaints, but he knew she was right, without her treatments, he would surely have infection set in by the morrow, and whom was he to go to? The castle physician? He snorted. Not hardly.
"Sir knight, do be still, for I fear with your constant motion, the wound shall not be clean." She snapped. She was only attempting to keep the knight who saved her alive, but he was making the task hard on her with his movements.
So instead of debating what would have happened, he took stock of the woman nursing him.
Lady Ginevra Weasley – one of 6 children, and one of 4 to be allowed to keep her status as a lady when her family fell into disfavor with the king. He almost snorted – everyone knew the reason Lady Ginevra had been allowed her status as a lady. It was naught more than the king took a fancy to her attractiveness. Draco rarely returned to the King's City anymore, but Graham often did, in order to prepare to be a knight. He was usually chock full of news, but it was also rare that Draco paid attention as he had when he heard of the Weasleys' falling.
Draco took stock of the lady tending his nasty injury. The first thing he noticed was that she was not like the other ladies, especially ladies of the Court. For her appearance, she had fiery red hair she tried not to hide, but simply braided it down her back. Ladies of the Court had tame yellow or brown hair, rarely black or red, and pinned it up upon their heads to drape down. They had milky white skin for lack of sunlight, and no freckles should dare ever appear upon their faces. Ginevra had a smattering of freckles, and further more, she shied not away from blood. The ladies Draco knew shrieked if they saw so much as a single drop of blood. Ginevra bore killing and injuries resolutely, and even dirtied her hands by clearing abrasions of gore. As he watched her carefully wipe clean sections of his arm, he thought he saw small green flickers around where she touched, and understood why she was a healer. She healed because she had the charms to do so easier than others. He imagined she had someone who taught the charms to her, and most likely the same someone directed her to use her charms, and not to fight against using them as some who lived inside the castle with jewels and fine dresses did.
But a Weasley, he thought, a blood-traitor. It was known to all what a blood-traitor meant – one whose family married not within the boundaries of the nobles, but even married…commoners! That shook something loose in his mind, drifted it to the front of his thoughts. Wasn't it that which had sent the Weasley family into disgrace? Ginevra's aunt, a highly upstanding Court lady, had chosen a village man to marry, a childhood friend with which she had taken upon a romance with. Draco half-shook his head – as one grew older, one must grow out of such village connections.
Her words brought him out of his inspection. "I need some sort of bandages, preferably white." She murmured to Graham, then took the bloody bowl from his hands and dumped it far away from their campsite. Startled out of his thoughts, Draco looked down at his arm.
It was mainly clean, except for the red tinge upon his skin around the wound, where it had bled under the surface. He supposed he was lucky it had stopped bleeding at all, and knew that must have been Ginevra's work.
Graham returned to his knight's side, this time bearing a bowl of some sticky appearing substance. She completed the bandaging and put his arm into a sling to keep him from actively using the arm, allowing the healing to undo itself, then withdrew to tend her horse and immerse herself in her own thoughts, allowing Draco to speak quietly with Graham while Graham began supper.
All three sat around the open fire. Graham was tending to their food, which was a simple soup; it was almost ready to consume.
Ginny inconspicuously glanced at Draco again. She thought he was gaining back some of his color, but his skin was still so bleached of color. She shuddered. Although she was a Healer, the blood had been pouring out at a rapid rate. But instead of shuddering away from the blood, she had been shuddering to think what would have happened had she not tended him. His life sure would have been lost – Ginny almost laughed. To almost have lost such a fine male specimen as him!
As a knight, she could honestly say she admired him. On the practice field, and then the battle field, he had earned the reputation for cold violence, for he nearly always won with minimal fuss of outward emotion. However, as a person, memories of her younger years prevailed. Though she had enjoyed watching him from a balcony above the practice area, he had acted as though she was a dead bug whenever he encountered her, with or without her brother Ron, who was in the same training year as Draco. So far, she had been civil to him because first, he had saved her, and second – she desperately needed his help.
His help to save her country. An unescorted lady, especially one bearing her tale, would not be well-welcomed by others, even if the lady held the king's favor as she did. The others were not limited to the fighting men, but reached out to the Court ladies, who disliked her and were sure to remember her from over a year ago when she was last at Court.
She sighed and stared into the fire morosely. She worried she might fail her task before bestowing her grave news upon her king. Ginny briefly turned her thoughts to Nott. Nott was far older than Draco, who was a year older than she, and herself, at thirty and one years of age. He had excellent favor with the king, and had risen rapidly over the last three years in favor of the king.
Ginny was fairly sure that had she not attempted to escape and had Draco not stricken him down, she would have been married to him within the year. She was already of an age of which many other ladies were well into their marriages and producing the next generation of aristocrats.
Graham brought her out of her thoughts. "Lady." He said. Startled, she looked up to see him offering her a bowl of thick stew. She hastily accepted the bowl and avoided his gaze.
After supper, she looked from liege to Sir Knight, almost warily. Over her food, she had pondered how best to deliver to them the news for the country and how to convince them to stay with her until she reached the castle safely.
To do so, she had decided, she must first ask Sir Knight Malfoy a question. A question he would assume dealt specifically to his past, and she was sure it would only prove to upset him. But she must know the answer, and she could not move on until she had been given one.
Ginevra looked straight at Sir Knight Malfoy, who was looking back, drew a breath, and opened her mouth to speak.
a/n: The D/G Forum, which hosted the D/G Fic Exchange, is welcome to all! i love that place, and it was started by rowan_greenleaf, so it's her forum - come visit at .net/forum/rowangreenleafs_DG_Forum/54059/
if you're interested in other stories written for the D/G Exchange, it's here: .net/u/1841209/The_DG_Forum
There was a poll for all the stories involved, and I won 'Most Creative' for my submission, which i was pretty excited about. all that was revealed on the forum.
I also have other D/G stories on my profile if you liked this one :D
don't forget to review, thanks for reading!