Tomione AU Friday – Medieval Prompt
*Author's Note: The language in this piece is mostly modern, even though it has a medieval setting. For those of you whom are interested, this story will most likely be added onto and completed at a later point in time if there are enough people interested in a continuation.*
Long May He Reign
i: "Tell us where he is." They had been demanding this same answer from her for hours, but the only thing that escaped her lips was screams and 'no's. Hermione stood on the cold hard stone of the great hall until they whipped the backs of her knees and she fell. They had wanted her to bow, and she refused to bow to this…man. This imposter of a man who tried to call himself a King. There was only one King- Harry Potter, the first of his name.
"This is my final time asking, girl. Tell us where he is." He sat on the throne, glaring down at her. Her eyes had never left his grey ones.
"You're not really asking, though, are you?" He growled in frustration and the guard behind her raised his whip, only to have his superior stop him. He strode down the green carpet toward her.
"You dare mock me!" Upon reaching her, her grabbed her throat with one hand and began to squeeze. "You- a mere serf the usurper sends as a messenger. You will answer to me, or I will kill you," he threatened.
In response, she spat bloody saliva in his face. "I'd rather die than answer to you. I serve the only worthy Crown Prince, Harry Potter, the Chosen One. And long may he reign." He grabbed the whip and raised it above his head. She stared him down with a sheer look of defiance in her eyes. She is a lioness in this court of snakes, and she will not cringe or shake for them.
"That's enough, Malfoy," a cold voice boomed through the front door. A man in a dark green cloak and tunic embroidered with the Voldemort crest strode into the Great Hall, war paint and blood still fresh on his face. A lowly servant handed him a cloth, but he shoved it away. He took off his sword sheath and another servant grabbed it from him. A third caught the cloak he threw their way. "This is not the way we treat guests."
"But sir, she's just a serf from the fields! Her surname is Granger."
He approached Hermione and the man named Malfoy. "She's the Hand of the Usurper, despite her birth. Remember, their court does not function like ours."
"But-"
"That's enough, Malfoy. Leave." The blonde man stood there in shock. "That goes for everyone-LEAVE!" the man roared. Servants and observers scattered every which way, and Malfoy started to shuffle off. "Oh, and Malfoy?" The young man turned around. "If I learn of you sitting on the throne again, I'll kill your mother and chop off your manhood."
Malfoy's face paled as he stuttered, "Y..y..y..yes..s…s… sir." The other man must have given him a stern look, because Malfoy went running the other direction. He turned around and looked down at Hermione, tilting his head to the side.
"I'm Tom the Riddle. I would bow, but that would mean you were a lady."
Hermione tried to stand, but the lashings on the backs of her knees would not allow her to do so. "My name is Hermione Granger. I would curtsey, but I can barely stand, and even if I could, I would never yield to a man who supports the enslavement of my people." Tom laughed aloud, his voice echoing through the hall. It was not a kind laugh; it was the kind of laugh the devil made when someone dealt away their soul.
"They weren't joking when they said you had fire." She scowled up at him as she staggered to her feet. She swayed and nearly collapsed but Tom caught her this time.
"Let go of me," she insisted through gritted teeth.
"You can't even walk."
"So?" She attempts to wiggle out of his arms but cannot.
He sighs, "You're a damsel in distress."
"Yes. I'm a damsel. I'm in distress. But I'll handle it." Internally, he feels himself smiling. Oh, she'll do just fine here.
He lifts his hands up in the air in defeat, releasing her. "Alright, have it your way." She wavers a little, but is mostly able to stand.
"I am here to discuss our peace treaty, as the letter of Voldemort requested of King Regent Dumbledore and the Crown Prince." He gives a hefty sigh and walks away, and she hobbles after him as quickly as she can. Classic Dumbledore not to tell her what's really going on, Tom thinks to himself.
"That's King Voldemort to you." There is a particular sneer in is voice and it sets her on edge.
"He may be your King, but he is not mine."
We'll see about that….
ii: They make it to a long spiraled staircase, and Tom knows she will not be able to walk up it, but she demands on trying anyway. Are people of the Kingdom of Hogwarts really so stupid? She makes it up the first flight before collapsing, and Tom convinces her to at least let him help. She leans all her weight on him and he feels her every rib pressing against his side. She's too light, too thin. Do they not feed their people?
They reach the top of the stairs and find two rooms. "This is my wing of the castle. The door on the right leads to my private chambers, and the door to my left is the make-shift strategy room." She thrashes under his arm as he leads her to his bedroom. "Hermione, I will not harm you or bed you. I am taking you to rest and have a medicine man attend to your legs and face. When you're ready, we will discuss this…peace treaty." He lays her down gently on the bed with her back facing up. She wants to resist and rise to her feet, but she's so tired. Sleep overcomes her, and while she dreams, Horace Slughorn tends to her wounds.
"Who is she?" He asks as he rubs the salve into her backs of her knees. She stirs a little in her sleep, and Tom's hand flies to her head to tuck away a loose hair.
"This is Hermione Granger, an advisor of the usurper."
"But she's a young woman! What is she doing helping lead a country?" Tom turned his fiery eyes onto the old man.
"My best knight is a woman. Do not question the other sex of their power. They have seen more blood than any man and they can raise children with the tactics of a Roman general."
"A Granger though? Why would the Usurper have a serf on his council?"
"Dumbledore handpicked her as a child to take on the job. Apparently, she did something rather extraordinary to impress him, and he appreciated her bravery and cunning."
"It sounds like you want to wed her." Slughorn waggled his finger at Tom.
"It sounds like you think I need to bed her." The younger man shoved away the wrinkled hand but Slughorn laughed. "Just because I need to have offspring does not mean I need to latch onto the nearest dress in sight."
"I think you've just been focusing too much on the war. You're still so young Tom. Don't forget to cherish your youth while you have it; you won't live forever."
"If I win this war, my legacy will be passed down and my glory will live for eternity." Hermione sighs in her sleep and they lower their voices.
"Why is she here Tom?"
"Obviously my Master of Coin has let his power go to his head. He thinks he's King and that it's within his authority to beat people."
"No, I don't mean in ill-condition. I mean…why is she here in Little Hangleton?"
"Dumbledore sent here her. She's under the impression we're negotiating a peace treaty."
"Why did her really send her?" Tom doesn't even have time to answer before Hermione's eyes flutter open.
She squints in the harsh light of the sun pouring through the window, and when her eyes adjust, she spots two unfamiliar figures. She shifts away from them on the bed, her hand going towards the knife hidden in the lining of her dress.
"Hermione, it's alright. It's just me." She recognizes Tom but is not comforted. "This is Horace Slughorn, King Voldemort's personal medicine man." The older man, fat and bulbous, gives Tom an odd, questioning look.
"The salve has already taken affect, but you won't be able to move around for another few hours. Around supper you can sit upright and by tomorrow you'll be walking." He gathered his robes together and began to rise when she touched his hand.
"Thank you, sir." He nodded his head and mumbled something under his breath, but the way his hand recoiled from her spoke louder.
iii.By the next morning, Hermione was feeling much better. She sat by the window in the strategy window, watching the knights train in the gardens below. The door opened, and Tom entered with a wild-looking woman. Her face and arms covered in the customary green war paint of the Death Eaters, the knights of Lord Voldemort.
"Hermione, this is Bellatrix, the best knight in the guard." The warrior observed her in silence, cold black eyes judging.
"A woman warrior-how extraordina-" But Bellatrix prowled like a castle cat over to Hermione's spot and slapped her face. Hermione rubbed her jaw in shock. Now angry, she seethed at the woman, "I meant you no insult! There are very few woman in power and maybe that's the reason why it keeps changing hands so much." Bellatrix opened her mouth and made clicking noises with her teeth, and that's when Hermione realized the woman had no tongue. The woman's eyes were grinning, so she supposed maybe Bellatrix was trying to laugh.
Hermione continued, "My dearest friend, Ginevra, is the best knight of my kingdom and she can often out duel the Prince." Bellatrix spat on the floor when she mentioned Harry. "I'm just shocked that Voldemort would allow women to have power. From everything I've heard, he's a tyrant who despises women and abuses those of lower birth." She couldn't help but notice Tom flinched when she said that.
"Don't believe everything you hear, Hermione." Tom's mouth was a thin line of repressed anger, but he bottled it up and handed Bellatrix some maps before she left. Bellatrix had scarcely left the room before Tom stormed over to her. "Where have you heard such lies about the King? We have more women employed than any other kingdom!"
"And what of the serfs? Are they treated kindly and with respect? Are they allowed to leave once they have served their contract?" He leans down and growls at her, but she glares back. "I thought so." She stands up from her seat so she can look at him directly. He refuses to move from his spot, so she's forced to stand in his shadow in front of him. "I heard these from Dumbledore himself, who mentored Voldemort before he went mad and tried to take over England."
"That old man is a fool and a liar! He will do anything to get what he wants, even if it means manipulating his own people!"
"What do you mean by that? I will not hear you speak of him that way! When my parents died from the fever, he took me in and raised me as his own!" Her voice grows embarrassingly shrill, but she barrels on. "And speaking of liars and manipulation, your king is no better! He's bloodthirsty and tyrannical, and I hope he suffers for his crimes!" She's standing on her tiptoes at this point, her face red and her heart pounding.
Tom finally loses his cool and shouts, "And I will not hear of you speak in the king in such a manner!" Just then, the door creaked open, and a shadowy man entered the room. Hermione and Tom, both flushed, turned towards him.
"Severus, now is not a good time." Hermione gasped in horror as she recognized the man in front of her by his greasy black hair and giant nose. It was Severus Snape, Dumbledore's own medicine man and Master of Intelligence. What was he doing here?
"I've been asked to deliver this to her." He hands her a scroll with Dumbledore's phoenix seal on it. "He believes that it would be best if he…debriefed her about the matter before you told her."
"What are you going on about Snape?" He simply gestured to the scroll and glided out of the room. She hastily opened up the scroll and read Dumbledore's familiar writing.
My dear Hermione,
I'm afraid I've avoided a few important details of your mission. As you already, I sent you to Little Hangleton to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort. While the treaty was underway, you are to track down his secrets, which he has concealed within 7 objects in his own castle. You need to find the items before the treaty is complete and send them to me so that we may march on the castle and siege it.
What I neglected to tell you was that there are many ways to have a peace treaty work. Most of the time, a contract is signed, but in some cases, peace is found through the union of two souls from the opposing parties. I am sad to tell you that, as of last month, King Voldemort has been granted your hand in marriage. If you try to back out of it, they'll surely kill you or torture you. I know this must be terribly upsetting, but I couldn't tell you until you arrived in Little Hangleton. No one else knows but you. Otherwise, Harry and Ron would have tried to find a way out of it and probably would have gotten themselves killed. Surely you understand the kind of situation this puts me in? The success of our kingdom lies entirely upon your shoulders with this marriage Hermione.
You are the brightest girl of your age. Do not fail me now.
Regards,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,
King Regent of the Kingdom of Hogwarts
Hermione read the letter, and with every word, furious tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. When she finished the letter, her fist crumpled it up and she threw it at the wall before letting out a cry of fury. She pounded her fists against the wall until they were sore and near bloody and her tears had dried. Meanwhile, Tom had bent down, read the letter, and watched her with pity.
"So, you're planning on finding the king's secrets?"
"I'm supposed to, but right now the only thing I want to do is kill Dumbledore. Who is he to barter me like a piece of meat at the market place?" Tom had to contain a laugh.
Hermione continued her angry monologue, "I'm going to kill Dumbledore first, and then I'm going to kill Voldemort. I've had enough of their hunger for power," she takes a moment to breathe before adding, "and they can both go rot in hell!"
Perhaps now was not a good time to mention that he was actually the king. Maybe I should wait until the wedding day he thought.