A/N: Hello everyone! Here is the first chapter of a story that I have been really excited about for a long time. It's a historical AU set in Anglo-Saxon England, and it will be taking place in the imaginary kingdom of Slytherin. Don't expect this to be too historically accurate, but I wanted to add some interesting things in this. Just a heads up that Thorfinn is not really a Viking, so don't expect that kind of story. Also, Hermione is mean to be a Celtic Briton, which were the people there before the Saxons came to England. Please let me know if there are any questions or if you all are just completely confused. Should I include like a little glossary of the various terms I've used here? I'm not a historian, but I also don't want it to be overwhelming, so just yeah...let me know what you'd prefer!
Huge thank you to Ava Safari for beta reading this chapter!
I'm really nervous about this one for some reason, so please let me know what you think of it! And be on the lookout for chapter two soon!
By the time they'd reached Granger's lands, Thorfinn was aching from the distance they'd traveled on horseback, but he knew better than to complain. He knew it was a great honor to be invited to see to his father's duties with him, and he wouldn't muck it up by acting like a child. That was a sure way to end up back home, helping his mother watch after his younger sister.
Thorfinn's father, Ivar, was an Earl tasked with overseeing nearly one-hundred hides of land by King Salazar himself. He ruled in the King's stead over the fourteen thegns that fell within just part of the King's lands. It meant that he was required to collect the food rent from those surrounding areas, the task that Thorfinn was currently assisting with.
Thorfinn looked up at his father, his long blond hair held back tightly in a braid, his beard neatly trimmed. He was a strong warrior, Thorfinn knew, but fair as well. Thorfinn was proud of his father. Ivar had come from across the sea when he was just a boy, first landing in Ireland to make his wealth and find land. Eventually he came to Salazar's lands. He'd once been nothing more than a thegn himself, having crossed the seas many times to conduct trade on behalf of the King, using his knowledge of seafaring from his younger years going viking. Salazar had looked favorably on his father, finding him an Anglo-Saxon wife and giving him a modest home. Over time, Ivar had proved himself endlessly useful to the King, even fighting alongside him in war before Thorfinn was born, and the King had rewarded him by making him Earl.
Now, at age ten, Thorfinn knew he wanted nothing more than to be a thegn and an Earl just like his father. His older brother Eirik had already been granted lands by the King at age ten and nine, and Thorfinn was sure that he'd be granted similar privileges when he came of age. However, if he hoped to ascend to Earl like his father, Thorfinn would have to watch carefully and perform well.
That was why he would not complain about how fierce his arse ached after a day of riding, least his father tell him that he'd no long be able to ride horseback again until he grew up a bit more. His mother already detested that he'd begun training in combat even though he was no longer a child. In his father's culture, it was likely that he'd already have killed a man at his age.
But, Thorfinn had also been more than enthused to join his father on this particular quest, mostly because he was endlessly curious about the Grangers, a family that lived on the very edge of King Salazar's lands.
The Grangers, it was said, were Britons, descended from the old culture of their great lands, before the Romans had even arrived. They had not assimilated into Anglo-Saxon culture, and did not follow the Angl0-Saxon way or their god, but they did join into their society tentatively, relenting to the rule of the land.
Thorfinn's belly twisted the closer they got to Granger's land, thinking about all the horrid things he'd heard about the Britons, and he wondered just what they would find when they arrived at their hut. His father wasn't worried in the slightest, but Thorfinn couldn't help but conjure the horrific and brutal things that might happen to them.
The Britons, it was said, were immensely fierce in battle, despite their primitive ways. He'd heard tales of how they would remove the heads of their enemies in battle and tie them to their horses. They would cover their bodies in tattoos and woad, making their bodies an eerie blue color that distinguished them from men. He wondered if Granger would look like that? Would he cut Thorfinn's head off and proudly display his head from a stick in front of his house?
Of course, he knew that his father would never allow that to happen to him, and further, this was meant to be a friendly visit.
They crested another ridge, and Thorfinn was just able to make out the top of the earthen home, one that looked so small and odd compared to their own home. His father halted his horse, and Thorfinn came up beside him. "That is the home of the Grangers," his father said sternly, but softly. "They are different from most, but you will respect him. Understood?" he questioned.
Thorfinn jerked his head in ascent, so curious about what it was that they were going to see. He eagerly pulled his horse into a trot to keep pace with his father, scarcely breathing when they came to a stop, dismounting from their horses easily. Perhaps hearing the approaching hoofbeats, a trio of people emerged from inside the home, staring out at the approaching men proudly.
The Grangers were not painted with blue woad, to Throfinn's dismay. Instead, they seemed unnaturally pale, as though he might be able to see the muscle working beneath the skin. The man was covered with a few large blue tattoos, though, most noticeably the roaring mauw of a lion was unmistakable through the laces of his tunic. The woman also had tattoos, though hers were smaller and less prevalent, flowers and swirls adorned the bits of her legs that he could see under her woolen dress. The third person was a small girl who seemed completely unadorned. All three of them had wild brown hair and serious, dark eyes. The smallest, a daughter it would seem, was willowy and thin, making her look like some kind of wood sprite, her hair seeming to make up the most of her mass.
"Jarl Ivar," Granger called out with a nod. "We've been expecting your visit," he said slowly. "Please, join us inside."
Thorfinn follows his father eagerly inside, looking around curiously. It is nothing at all like his home, and he cannot imagine living somewhere like this, so cramped and close to everyone else. There is no evidence of any other children, only the one wild little girl. Their table was next to the small hearth, with a pitiful fire crackling inside of it.
"Eni, thank you for your hospitality," his father said softly, looking at the meager spread of food that was presented to them. Thorfinn bristled seeing it though - this was certainly not an offering worthy of a powerful Earl like his father. It was insulting. He held his tongue, though, sitting upright and staring at these Britons in confusion. Did they not know the error that they had made. "You will know that I've come for the foodrent."
Eni nodded, looking down sadly at the horn of ale in his hand. "And you will know that I have no foodrent to pay you," he said with a sigh. "Half of the harvest was destroyed by blight and what little was left behind was pilfered by the Danes. I don't know how I will feed my own family this winter."
Thorfinn seethed, wondering how it was possible that this man had ever achieved the status of thegn in the first place. Certainly it was his principal duty to maintain food for his household, and for the King. If he wasn't able to do so, he should be striped of his duty. His father would have to find someone more suitable to take care of this land.
His father did not seem upset, though. "I understand. My own harvests were also affected by the blight. It must be hard for you out on the periphery of the King's lands. We must speak to him about additional defenses against the Danes."
Eni looked overwhelmed and grateful for the suggestion. "That would be appreciated Jarl Ivar. However, I do have something that might be sufficient to pay for the foodrent."
"Speak freely, Eni," his father said grimly. Thorfinn was astonished that this outsider was going to get away with not paying his foodrent! And that his father would speak up on the man's behalf. He was so confused and offended that he could barely hold his tongue.
"My daughter, Hermione. You might have a use for her in your household," the Briton said, running his hand down the back of the girl's wild brown hair. She looked at the two outsiders with wide eyes and a sullen look, as though she were expecting it.
Ivar smiled down at the wisp of a girl. "I have a daughter, nearly seven years old, called Leoflaed. She is in need of a companion at this age, and my wife could also use the assistance around the farmstead."
At this, Thorfinn could no longer hold his tongue, gasping that his father seemed to actually be considering the offer that the other man had made. "Father, you can't be serious!" he said suddenly. "Her weregeld wouldn't even pay for one tenth of their foodrent! She's just a little girl," he snarled.
"Thorfinn, silence," his father snapped icily, making his blood instantly run cold, knowing that he'd made a mistake talking out of turn. "You will wait outside with the horses if you cannot behave," he instructed, with a glare that had Thorfinn biting his tongue. Arguing with his father, begging to stay, would do little to get his father to change his mind.
Feeling annoyed, he returned to wait outside by his horse, a tan colored beast with hair as blond as his own. He didn't understand why his father was agreeing to take in that little girl, who was not actually likely to help his family for many years. She would be too small to carry out even the most basic of tasks, and he didn't see why Leoflaed would need a companion, but he supposed that if it meant less time spent with his little sister dogging his heels, he wouldn't complain too much.
He wasn't sure how long he'd stood in the dying light of the day, but eventually his father came out to join him. "Where is the girl?" he asked aloud, seeing that the Grangers had not joined him outside. Maybe he'd come to his senses and decided to leave her behind, here where she belonged.
"Hermione is saying goodbye to her parents, and then we will return home," his father informed him, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Ivar stared at his son with steely blue eyes, looking at him curiously. "You know, your mother argued with me about bringing you on this trip. She insisted that you were not ready, that you were just a boy," he said, disappointment evident in his voice.
"But I am ready, father," he pleaded, trying hard not to sound like a spoiled child. "I promise that I am ready. I want to grow up to be an Earl just like you - strong, and, and powerful," he said, dropping his eyes to the grass beneath their feet. His father often seemed larger than life to him, impossibly big and imposing. Thorfinn often felt like he was the most powerful man in all of King Salazar's lands, only made more obvious by his refusal to leave behind his Northman way - from his long hair to the way he spoke.
"Being a thegn is not a given," Ivar told him with a frown. "Yes, you are my child, but the King's requirement to our family ends with Eirik's claim. You will have to prove yourself, and request lands from the King yourself when you are ready. He will only grant them to you if he should find you worthy of the honor."
Thorfinn nodded quickly, knowing that it was true. Still, he knew that he'd be able to get the King's favor. After all, he'd been watching his father for as long as he could remember, and he wanted to follow in his example. "I will do everything in my power to become worthy," he said eagerly.
"You are not ready if you insist on speaking out of turn, when you don't understand the situation. Listening to the instructions of your father is a good place to start," Ivar said sharply. He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Granger is not so different from I. We both respect each other on the fact that neither of us is Saxon, but we are forced to live in this society. If you wish to rule, to be a thegn even, then you must realize that not every situation is so simple."
Thorfinn was distressed. "But father, he couldn't pay the foodrent. Who will pay that now? Who will tell the King? I doubt Salazar will be impressed with a small girl," he said grumpily, still not seeing her utility.
Ivar crouched down so that he could look into his son's eyes. "Ruling is not all about demanding foodrent. Sometimes, you must show a bit of compassion to the people. Removing Eni or punishing him will not endear me to any of the people of this land, nor will it feed them. The fact of the matter is...Eni likely cannot feed that girl through the winter. If we did not take her with us, then she would die," he said with a sigh, before turning to look at the setting sun.
Thorfinn scoffed at the idea that Hermione would be able to contribute anything to their household, but knew that he wouldn't get anywhere arguing with his father over it anymore. Better to let the girl show how useless she was, and then...then maybe they could find someone else to give her to.
Before he could ponder the newest member of his household anymore, all three Grangers were leaving their house together, the tiniest of their household with tears fresh on her cheeks. Thorfinn sneered at her, finding even more evidence that she was a weakling. Her mother crouched down to the girl's level, wrapping her up in a tight embrace, before pulling up the sleeve of her threadbare dress.
There, just above her elbow, was a brilliant flash of blue, encircling her tiny bird arm. From all that Thorfinn could see, it seemed that it was just a series of small dots, no true design yet revealed. He was surprised to see that a girl as small as her had a tattoo as well.
"Remember, Hermione, you will always be one of us - a proud Brigante," the mother whispered, wiping the tears from her young daughter's face. "And if you ever need proof, you just have to look here," she said, her fingers tracing the tattoo lovingly. "Never forget us, and we will never forget you."
The words that were meant to bolster the young girl only served to make her sob harder, wrapping her arms around her mother. "I don't want to leave you," she begged. "Please don't make me go."
The sight had Thorfinn frowning, seeing how sad she seemed. He would have thought such a pitiful emotional display would have had him feeling disgusted with her behavior, but really, he just felt bad for the girl. Needing something else to focus his mind on, he mounted his horse once again.
His father mirrored his actions, guiding his horse over to the small family. "I am sorry, Eni, but we must leave now," he said, legitimately sounding upset at having to break up the family unit.
The man nodded, pulling his young daughter from her mother's arms, and handing him to the Northman. Ivar pulled Hermione to sit on the horse in front of him, his arms wrapping around her to hold her securely on the horses back. She sat on the horse as practiced as any Northman, furthering the illusion that she was some kind of nature spirit. Her wild hair was nearly in his father's face, and Thorfinn couldn't wait to see what his mother would make of the girl.
"Be good, Hermione," Eni instructed sternly.
Hermione bit her lower lip, before nodding fiercely, her face transformed. She wiped furiously at the drying tears on her cheeks, forcing herself to stop and gain control of her emotions, forced to act grown up, even though she couldn't have been much older than six or seven years.
With a final goodbye, they were on their way, galloping across the land, trying to make as much time between now and nightfall. Thorfinn grumbled to himself knowing that they were likely to have to camp outside overnight. His father kept a fast pace with his horse, and it was difficult for Thorfinn to keep up.
None of the the three riders talked on the long journey back away from Granger's lands. When they finally stopped for the night, the moon was high and round in the sky. Thorfinn didn't make any effort to speak to the interloper, still finding her too unusual and odd to speak to, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.
Staring across the small fire, he watched as she tore into the offered rabbit that his father had given her once it was cooked. Obviously she was very hungry and grateful for the meal, but she wasn't inclined to even thank him for the new offering.
Digging his hands into the dirt, Thorfinn tried to remember what his father had said about ruling with compassion. He didn't want to give this little creature any compassion, but he knew that he should try if he wanted to become a good thegn someday. He couldn't say that he understood why his father would agree to take the girl as foodrent, when she was likely to end up costing more to feed in the long run, but he would try to push it from his mind. It wouldn't do for his father to think that he wasn't listening to his suggestions again.
As they laid down for sleep, Thorfinn stared at her once again, remembering the tattoo that she'd been fierce enough to receive. Perhaps there was more to Hermione the Briton than he expected.