Viking AU: All young Vikings are taught the stories of Norse history. But what happens when a young pair stumble into an epic situation of their own?
Warnings: violence, minor character death, hints to non-con (nothing happens to the characters but it is mentioned as a common Viking practice.)
Thank you InDreams and Kyonomiko for setting up this magical fest. They worked tirelessly and were always available and kind.
Much love to my beta RooOJoy. She took the time to help me even if her life is crazy right now. She's the precious gem on my Viking's sword handle.
JK owns the characters, this is just a work of fanfiction in which I heavily experimented with Omniscient Narration.
I appreciate every one of you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you like it.
The Sight of a Warrior
Chapter 1: The Seeress and the Warrior
The earth trembled when the white dragon landed on the black sand. The maiden with the eyes made of embers sat under the thick reddening canopy of the Ancient Willow, beholding the beast as it stretched and folded its wings.
With a low growl, the creature acknowledged the presence of the human girl. Huffing from its fuming nostrils, he shook its enormous, spiked head. The dragon set his muscular legs in motion, clawed feet digging in the dark, fine gravel.
The ground shook again when the animal came to a halt and stomped its forefeet in front of the great tree. The reptile greeted the human with a roar, warming the air around them. The leaves rattled and the branches swayed, shook by the dragon's breath.
With a gentle smile, the maiden greeted her old acquaintance, her legs hurrying to erase the distance between them. The dragon lowered its head, spikes aligning with its extended neck in a menacing posture, ready to spit fire. The maiden stood tall, her face in front of the sneering jaws, and slowly she reached forward with a delicate hand. She closed her eyes, welcoming the monster and its mortal fire as though she accepted her fate and anticipated the heat of the flames that would burn her life away.
A red, crispy leaf detached from the Ancient Willow and descended in a spiralling swirl. It settled on the sand between the beast and the girl, and the dragon bent its knees and bowed to her instead, his giant muzzle nudging forward and touching her palm.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. Chest heaving and hands trembling, she brushed the sweat dampened curls from her face. The need for fresh air pulled her out of her hut. The moon shone her rays on her while she beheld the bay from the cliff. Still engulfed by the sensations of her vision, she whispered in the wind. "Draco will return when the first leaf falls at the beginning of autumn."
Draco was hard faced. Not only because he rarely showed any sympathy or empathy for other people, hiding his feeling behind that mask of stoic toughness but also due to his acuminate, angular features. Sharp jaw and long nose painted his face with slopes and harshness.
The seabirds were squawking high in the sky when the longships entered the narrow channel that brought to the ancient city of Hogsmeade. Gazing towards the cliff from his stance at the dragon headed prow of the longship that was the symbol of his clan, he lifted his pointy chin towards the sky and inhaled the familiar scent of the salty air interlaced with the sweetness diffusing from the willow trees. A light breeze carried the fragrance of freshly baked bread, meat and vegetable stew, tree sap, recently cut timber, and something fishy and musty that formed that familiar smell of where Draco grew up. It smelled of home, and it sent a thrill through Draco's veins. He had been away for far too long.
His silvery eyes squinted in the sunlight, the God Sol shining his rays through his water crystalline irises and sparking millions of azure particles to life. The Viking warrior strained his sight, brushing back his long platinum hair until the forgiving shapes of the mountain range that surrounded the bay covered the incandescent sphere, allowing him to finally discern the village.
He drank in the sight of the sandy beach, the green hills beyond the wooden longhouses, and to the left of the town, the steep cliff that was the end of the promontory over the sea. There, as he had hoped, he saw her.
Hermione stood on the precipice, tunic billowing in the wind and wild dark, curly hair dancing over her face.
Draco grabbed his axe and rose it to her direction, saluting her with a head tilt, content that she wasn't among the welcoming crowd. They didn't bid farewell placidly before he set his course for the open sea, following his craving for the excitement of battle. On these grounds, the warrior thanked the Gods for keeping her away from him, bestowing upon him their continued favour. The short sleeved tunic slid up his perfectly chiselled arm as he hoisted his weapon and revealed a black tattoo on his bicep. Two dragons embraced a round shield, each wrapping it from opposite sides, limbs dancing as the muscles underneath the ink rippled and contracted.
Hermione groaned at the sight of him, instinctively covering her left forearm with her hand. Beneath the sleeve of her azure tunic, laid the same horrible mark, branding her as a member of the tribe. She loathed it. A sense of relief invaded her when she saw that all the boats found their way back safely, especially the longship full of red headed warriors among which stood also a raven haired wizard. Ron and Harry were safe as well.
As the vessel touched the dock, Draco jumped down and made his way through the chanting village that had gathered to welcome back the warriors. Swerving among grasping hands that tried to stop him and greet him, he finally made his way to where the chieftain was awaiting him.
"Welcome back, my son." Lucius pulled him in a tight embrace. Heart swelling with love and relief, he handed his son over to the greedy arms of his wife that could hardly wait for her turn to squeeze him.
Draco freed himself from Narcissa's smothering hug and signalled to Crabbe and Goyle to bring the raid plunder. The corpulent fighters hauled a large chest full of treasures and spoils.
Taking a sword and a shield from the crate, Draco announced proudly, "Voldemort is dead!" The village roared and rejoiced as he placed the broken shield and the weapon in front of the chieftain as an offering. All the Vikings eagerly stared at the cracked emblem that had once been neatly painted on the shield. The symbol of the rival chieftain had been a black serpent slithering out of a skull.
Lucius rose his hand to quiet the crowd so that he could speak. "The raid was successful! Thanks to my son, the eastern territories are no longer a threat to our kingdom."
Before Draco could ask for permission to speak and give his people more details on their expedition, a warrior shouldered his way into the clearing and stood tall before the chieftain. "My lord, it was my clan who found where Voldemort was hiding, and Harry killed him, not your son!" Ronald straightened his back, chin up and chest puffed. He didn't want to leave all the glory to Draco. His family had fought with valour and sacrificed a lot; they deserved recognition.
Draco inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring and pulling his features into a sneer. He wanted nothing more than to bash Ron's freckled face in with his axe, but he compelled himself into calmness and nodded to his father. "Harry fought well." He locked eyes with the warrior that bore an ugly scar on his forehead and motioned for him to step forward.
Harry obliged and went to stand next to Ron, a hand on his best mate's shoulder asking him to step back and eyes pleading him not to cause farther commotion.
Lucius shot a disappointed glare at his son before thanking Harry for his accomplishments. "You can keep Voldemort's sword and shield and choose whatever you wish from the plunder." Indicating to the biggest wooden longhouse in the village, he commanded, "Let's feast in the Great Hall!"
Hermione set foot in the village when the last of the warriors were entering the Great Hall. She didn't wish to partake in the celebration, but she wanted to speak to Harry and Ron. She found them next to the fire, surrounded by the Weasley clan. Harry was the first to spot her and jump up to greet her. Ron pulled her in his strong arms and lifted her off the ground. "I missed you, Seeress!"
Molly, the clan matriarch, handed her a plate full of meat, vegetables, and bread. George gave her a horn mug full of ale and clashed his own to roast, pride glinting in his eyes, "To Frederick. He's feasting with the Gods now!"
Hermione put a hand on her mouth, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes and quickly spilling over. George gave her a sympathetic smirk, thinking how odd it was to see someone so distraught by death. "It's unfortunate that you can't see the death of a warrior as an honour. Fred's in Valhalla. Rejoice with me!"
Hermione had been raised in a Christian village. Therefore, she feared God's judgment in the afterlife. "I didn't see it. I'm sorry Molly, Arthur, I could have warned you."
"It's not your fault." Harry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but was quickly pulled away by Ginny who came in swaying her hips and hair, and took him away to drink with her.
An acute and high pitched laugh pierced Hermione's ears, and Ron made a face as his eyes turned to where Draco was sitting, surrounded by drunk maidens. Feeling Ron and Hermione's eyes on him, Draco quirked his eyebrow and lifted a cup towards them as Pansy sat on his lap. Hermione turned just enough so she could hide her face from him behind a cascade of chestnut curls.
"I didn't think the slave girl would have shown her face in here," Pansy blurted out with a hiccup.
"She's not a slave anymore. She's under Dumbledore's protection." Daphne pointed out.
Astoria poured Draco another cup of ale. "She still came from that gods forsaken Christian island."
Draco was looking at Hermione while she conversed with Arthur's sons; he wondered if any of them had staked a claim on her yet. His bets were on Ronald; the git was dumb enough to think he could marry a Seeress. Scanning the hall, he looked for Lucius, finding him in his rightful place.
The girls were still talking about Hermione. "A crow wouldn't nest in that messy hair!" Pansy chuckled, and Draco decided that he had had enough.
"Christian or not, she has the gift of sight. Hermione is our future Oracle. Once Dumbledore dies, she'll take his place. Show her respect. She's the one who will tell you if your womb will remain as empty as your brains once you find a husband." Draco shoved Pansy off his lap and approached the throne where his father was sitting. Astoria froze with her cup mid air, shooting daggers at Draco's back as he left them.
"Chieftain, may I speak?" Lucius prompted him to talk with a hand signal. "I would like to ask for permission to join the hunting parties this coming winter. I need to practice my archery skills."
"Son, you will stay here by my side and observe how I rule. You strayed from your duties long enough. It's time you learn how to be a chieftain." Lucius fixed his grey eyes into the fire before him, avoiding his son's disappointed gaze, and Draco knew his words were not negotiable.
Suddenly, the hall fell silent as Dumbledore appeared in the doorway.
Hermione's heart skipped a bit as the bearded man stood at the threshold, his blue eyes scanning the hall. He had been away for a while, talking to the Gods, and she had an eerie feeling in her guts that he brought back with him cathartic news.