Jewel from the Sea
Written by: Evee
Outlined by: Sierra
Disclaimer: Sierra and I own the plot, and characters made from our own minds. All else that, rightfully, belongs to JK Rowling, belongs to her.
Summary: Virginia, born to a Viking father expecting a male child, was rejected the day of her birth. Taken in by his soft-spoken advisor, she is raised craving her blood fathers' attention. When she takes to the sword, and commits to doing what a real boy her age would do, she gets into trouble. And in that trouble leads up to a promise of change.
Important Note(s): Originally, this fic was written with explicit scenes. Since our desire not to have all previewed on this story, very few, if any at all, will be in this story. If any form of sexual content offends you, physically, mentally, or suggestive, I suggest you read a different story.
Chapter One
After the little girl had skipped away, Remus remained where he was, staring into the small, steady flame of a single oil lamp as if mesmerized by its golden radiance. There was a peculiar heaviness in his heart now, such as he experienced when one of his visions unfolded before his eyes; the heaviness of dread at the inevitable, mingled with a sense of helplessness, for no mortal man could control destiny.
So he had felt as his little Virginia made her brave vow. Something had been unleashed by her words- some power was even now stirring in the air like a primeval dragon awakening from the depths of sleep, and he, Remus, could do naught to stop it. He could only be there to help her in whatever small ways his gift of sight had armed him with. He sighed heavily. It had all begun so long, long ago, years before the maid had been born. His head nodded slightly and his eyes closed as the memories came flooding back, as vivid as they had occurred only yesterday...
Inverness, hall of Severus, had slumbered. The whale-oil lamps with the floating wicks had long since burned down, and all had been mantled by darkness that wintry night save for where the last, lazily curling flames from the central hearth pit illumined a shaggily bearded face or a plumply rounded cheek, or caught the dull silver wink of a mantle brooch, before relinquishing all once more to a heavy shadow.
Yet is was not as silent darkness in Severus's vast, smoky hall, for many Norsemen slept there- some who snored, some who muttered in their sleep, and some who belched even in the depths of slumber, and grimaced at the taste of soured wine and mead coating the backs of their throats. Nor were the massive hunting hounds silent, but snuffled and yelped softly as they hunted their dream-prey, limbs twitching, tails awag. Nor, for that matter was Severus himself, chieftain of them all, lost in the depths of slumber, for he tossed and turned and grunted on the bench strewn with furs that was his bed, as if he wrestled mighty Midgard, the great serpent monster that coiled about the world. Across the hall, Remus had also lain awake. He had noted his lord's restlessness and shrewdly guessed its cause, for many times since they had left Britain Severus had told the skald of his sleeplessness, in the hope that he could give him wise counsel and offer some solution. So it had been that winter's night.
"Remus!" Severus had called, his voice sounding strangled. "Remus, curse thee! In Odin's name, where are you?"
Remus had rolled himself into his mantle and padded to his lord's side. "Here, sir."
"Can you, with all your mewling wisdom in all things, do nothing for me? My body craves sleep, and yet it evades me each night! In truth I am weary beyond belief!" He groaned.
"Perhaps a soothing draught-?"
"Nay, no draughts! Sleeping draughts are for weaklings and women," he muttered scornfully. "Nay, a draught will not cure what plagues me. 'Tis magic, I tell thee, Remus. It has come to my mind that the Saxon queen set a curse on me before you slew her- that dark haired witch! A curse to rob me ever after my rest!"
"A curse?" Remus echoed, swallowing. "Nay, I think not, sir. The- the woman was a Christian, was she not?"
"Then what other reason do you offer for my wakefulness, eh, wise one?"
Remus shrugged, "It is said that- that when a man's actions are at odds with all that he knows to be right and true, he may suffer doubts which will prevent him from- from sleeping, sir."
"Ah! So it is said, is it?" Severus sneered, levering himself up onto his elbow. "Then I should of certainty have a little difficulty in finding sleep, should I, good Remus, for all that I have done in my life has been right and true, as befits Viking honor, has it not?"
"Your life has been an example to all good Vikings, my lord. I am certain that this sleeplessness is but a passing phase..."
But no amount of soothing or reassurance could put the jarl to sleep. As it had been so since he had raided the hamlet. And while Severus lay, he went over in his mind the days feasting, in celebration of their victorious return from Britain, and then further back, to the very day they had attacked the eastern coastal hamlet of Middlesbrough.
He had grinned broadly as he and his men loped stealthily up the shingled riverbanks and crept silently on through the mist drenched woods. The Saxon's were not even warned when they attacked. Not a guard stopped them, or a dog bay at their coming. Swift and silent. Death on wings.
Like wolves they had fallen upon the village, the raiding party overran the village and the chieftain's hall, sparing no man nor child- save a pitiful handful who managed to flee them- and precious few women.
Before dawn had fully broken, or the bright morning star paled onto the charcoal of the sky, or the birds had begun their singing to herald the new day, the village had been put to the torch and swiftly consumed by hungry flames. The smell of burning human flesh and the acrid odor of crackling thatch and wattle filled the air.
The captured women had huddled together beneath a spreading oak where they had been dragged, weeping softly for the children torn from their breasts and ruthlessly killed, for the husbands who would never hold them again. Others remained stonily silent, their eyes glazed with the horrors they had seen or experienced, their minds unhinged.
Severus had scanned the women almost hungrily; his mantle and axe dripping with blood and gore from the day's battle. His eyes settled on one, who had to be an Anglo-Saxon princess. Her hair at one point had been braided, but now wrested from its tidy confines; it spilled in a thick black cascade to her hips. A rip in her bodice was the most suggestive thing about her, that and she didn't seem to bother to cover herself. As if sensing his burning stare upon her, she turned to look at him directly, meeting the blazing blue of his leer with a level brown gaze of her own that was, to the chieftain's mind, particularly disconcerting.
"You, wench!" he growled, "Here!"
The woman had clearly understood, for she had stood and began toward him when he first opened his mouth. She stood tall before him, looking up in his cruelly handsome face she awaited his next words.
Her serenity irked Severus, and with somewhat greater force than he might otherwise have used upon a captured female, he knotted his warrior's gnarled hand in her shining black hair and wrenched her brutally to him.
"Hold!" she cried loudly.
Despite himself, her imperious tone gave Severus pause. With a cruse he abruptly released her. "Remus!" he bellowed. "What says the black haired witch?"
Remus hurried forward, glancing from the woman back to his chieftain. "The woman bade you to 'Hold' in her tongue, my lord," he translated.
Severus laughed. "Did she indeed, good Remus? And ask her, by Loki, who is he, that she dares give commands to Severus, jarl of Inverness?"
Remus did as bidden, the woman answering softly. "She says that she is Wilone, the Desired One, lady wife to high chieftain Albus, descendant of the kings of Middlesbrough, whom you and your men butchered along with their two sons this morn," Remus translated, his encouraging smile fled now.
"And what of it?"
"She asks that you spare her, my lord! And in return, she swears she will please you in any manner you might ask of her."
"Asks does she now? Why does she not beg me, eh, Remus, like the other bawling cows of her village? As her, skald, why I should bargain like a wine merchant for her body, when I can take it at my pleasure?" he scoffed arrogantly, fists planted on his hips, his legs, shod in hairy boots and gaitered leggings, braced apart.
Remus haltinging repeated his chieftain's words, turning to Severus with eyes downcast and fair-skinned cheeks a deep crimson with embarrassment. "The Lady Wilone acknowledges that you can indeed take her by force, if that is what you will, my lord. However she bade me tell you that she is very skilled in the mating arts, and would willingly demonstrate her-talents- if you would spare her life. And- and she bade me also remind you again that her very name means 'The Desired One' in the Anglo-Saxon tongue."
Severus was quiet a long moment, deep in thought. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before speaking again. "Why?" he demanded. "Why does this Middlesbrough- queen - not place her honor above her life, as befits the woman of a chieftain? Why does she offer herself like a camp follower to the slayer of her menfolk and children?"
Again Remus and the woman conversed. "The Lady Wilone says that her lord had no brothers, sir. That his two little sons killed this morn were the last of his line- save for the child she now carries in her womb. She says that sons aren't a man's immortality, sir, his link with the- the gods. If you will accept the bargain she offers, then Aeldred will thus live on in his son or daughter."
Severus grunted and hid a cruel smile For all her loveliness, the woman was a fool. Why would he, Severus, allow even on of Albus's cubs to grow to manhood? Did the farmer permit weeds to flourish unhampered in his fields? Nay, not one! A wise farmer knew that a single weed left to flourish could become man, many weeds, and choke the life-giving stalks of grain. So it was with cubs...But his stony features revealed none of his thoughts. Instead he nodded.
"So be it." A cruel grin creased his lips. "But tell the 'lady' she must please me mightily if she wishes to have her unborn whelp's life- and I am not a man easily pleasured by a woman. If she fails, it will go ill with her- I swear it by Mjolnir, the mighty Hammer of Thor!" so saying he touched the hammer shaped talisman of bronze that hung on a cord about his bull neck, and leered at her.
To his satisfaction, the woman named Wilone paled.
"Remus!" Severus called, spotting him by the banks of the river the next morn. Remus' heart sank at the call, but he turned and hurried toward him.
"My lord chieftain?" Remus asked.
"Albus' woman. She lies back there in the bracken. Deal with her, Remus." He made to go on his way.
Gentle Remus was aghast. He called after the jarl, "But- did she not please you my lord?"
"Aye, she did," Severus murmured softly. "She is well named." he scowled. "But I'll permit none of Albus' cubs to survive this day. Sons of murdered fathers have a way of rising up and seeking revenge, Remus. I shall pass no sleepless nights on Albus' account!"
Remus' face paled in the gathering dusk and the gorge rose in his throat. "As- as you command, sir," he stammered, and turned back the way his chieftain had come, drawing his dagger as he went.
But as Severus had left Wilone back at the bracken, he hadn't heard her soft words, hissed with malice.
"Blood of my blood, blood of your blood, I curse thee, mighty Severus!" she whispered, a distant dreaming light in her dilated sloe-black eyes that hinted at madness. "They will mingle, yea, mingle ere long- and mine will, at last, vanquish yours. I, Wilone, swear it...!"
When Severus had been with Kathryn, they were years of hardship. Fertility on both parts seemed hard to come by, and both were frustrated to the point of destruction. Kathryn had even thought of taking a lover to fill the needs that Severus could not in his aging years, but finally a miracle happened. Kathryn was at long last with child!
Never had a rooster strutted nor a stallion pranced as arrogantly in it maleness as did Severus when he learned his dearest wish was to be granted. He had clasped Kathryn about the waist and swung her high into the air as if she were but a child herself, causing heads to turn in the smoky hall and chatter cease as if severed by a blade.
"Praise be the gods, woman!" he roared, wicked blue eyes dancing with merriment, "and to blessed Frey- though Odin knows he took his merry time to answer Severus' prayers! A son! At last I! Severus the Cunning, will have my link with the gods!"
Kathryn had nodded happily. She knew nothing- and cared less- of "links with the gods" for she was a simple creature, much like the placid cows that grazed the sweet mountain meadows all summer long beyond the shielings, the summer dwellings, with no thought for anything but that they should be content. Nor was she as convinced as her husband that the child would be male. Yet she was proud and pleased that she had been able to conceive at last and bring her lord such obvious joy. With a relieved sigh, she happily confided to Remus her hopes that perhaps now Severus's temper would be improved and their hall a place of peace and harmony. In this she was proved correct.
The months following held sacrifices and joyous feasts. And such state of affairs might well have continued, Remus mused, had Kathryn not gone into a long and difficult childbirth in the dark depths of the endless northern winter. And relinquished her own life to bring into the world her lord and husband's firstborn, the tiny daughter whom Remus had now grown to love more than life itself- and whom he knew Severus would never accept, whatever she might try to do. Nay, not if he lived to be a hundred.
He stood and moved wearily to the lamp, spat upon his fingers, and pinched out the tiny flame. It died with a hiss, and to Remus it was as if all the goodness and light that had filled his empty life in the years since Ginny's birth died with it.
The dragon of destiny had stirred, and would soon thrust them into the uncertain future he had envisioned. No mortal hand could hold back the beast and later what was to come. What would the future bring for his little Virginia, the blessed daughter of his heart, if not his loins? He could only wait and wonder- and pray.