A/N: Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! I am so tickled that you guys loved to hate Gilderoy, who is always helping when he isn't needed. Huge thanks to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you think of chapter twelve and be on the lookout for chapter thirteen soon!
Being pulled up from bed, half naked, by Gilderoy Lockhart was a more horrifying prospect than Remus would have imagined. But here he was, with that exact scenario playing out. The blond twat seemed to greatly enjoy his new task of berating him for defiling their Princess, with Hermione standing by with bright pink cheeks, denying that any such thing had happened.
The cold feeling of metal bit into his arm while he followed the man from the sanctuary of his room. He scoffed, looking at Gilderoy's gilded armor, before turning to face Hermione.
"Really?" he taunted, annoyed with her once again. "This isn't even remotely period accurate."
"I know," Hermione whined. "Plate armor wasn't widely worn until the fourteenth century. What do you want me to do, Remus? Hunt down the author with my list of corrections?"
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," he answered, though he knew how ridiculous that must sound. "I'd like to give the author a piece of my mind, trapping unsuspecting victims in this book with no safe word to get out of it."
"Oh, a victim, are you?" Hermione questioned sharply, put out at the suggestion.
"Well, of course, and you are, too," he said from over his shoulder. Gilderoy was really quite efficient with dragging him out the door and towards the stairs. Hermione had to double her steps to keep up. "It's not as if you wanted this."
He didn't have a chance to see her reaction because that big lunk was pulling him down the stairs and he had to focus on not tripping over his own feet. When they arrived in the main feasting hall, he was amazed by the transformation that must have occurred in minutes. The long table was shoved to one side of the room and a throne placed on top of it. Behind it hung tartan that reminded Remus suspiciously of McGonagall's old nightgowns.
Speaking of his former mentor, Minerva McGonagall sat atop the throne, looking down at him imperiously. Her slightly greying hair was topped by a large brass crown, rather simple, but regal nonetheless. So this was Queen Minerva.
"So this is the man that stole my daughter from me?" she asked, her voice cutting through the chatter in the room, filled up with both his men and hers.
Sirius stepped forward, with a grin on his face. "Actually it was I who stole her, Queen Minerva," he said with a cheeky smile. "I looked upon her bonnie face and wished to make her my woman. It was only on Jarl Remus's orders that she remained chaste, with instructions to ransom her back to you."
His explanation did little to convince Minerva that it was the truth. She appeared to be thoroughly unimpressed with the affable Sirius.
"My Queen," Gilderoy said, effusively. "I found this cur in bed…with the Princess," he added in an overdone whisper.
Shocked murmurs began to ripple outwards from where they were standing at the prospect of the Princess being defiled.
Minerva looked around hawkishly. "Where is my daughter?" she asked, with that cutting voice that could always silence a Transfiguration classroom.
Hermione walked out awkwardly from behind Gilderoy's shiny silver frame to stand in front of them. Her pale pink dress was ripped and stained with blood from Wormtail, and her hair was filled with leaves and twigs from her two journeys through the forest. Remus winced, thinking that it was really the worst possible representation that she could have given for the care she'd received from her Viking captors.
"Here I am...mother," she said, nervously stumbling over the unusual title for her former professor.
"Is what Sir Gilderoy says true?" Queen Minerva asked, outrage simmering under the surface. "Has he dishonored you?"
"The only one here who has dishonored me is Sir Gilderoy!" Hermione argued back, giving the blond man a bossy glare. "Jarl Remus hasn't harmed me at all. In fact, he saved me from a far worse enemy at great personal peril. Can't you see his wounds? He got those defending me."
Minerva's stare was heavy on him and Remus could not help but flinch, feeling like a third year who'd been caught out after curfew.
"The Princess surely must be suffering some sort of malady," Gilderoy said, smoothly, with one of his signature smiles on his face. "Or perhaps the Viking has threatened her with bodily harm should she not tell his filthy lies."
"Is what Sir Gilderoy says true, daughter?" Minerva asked, looking supremely worried for her child. "Have you been harmed?"
"No, I am unharmed, mother," she answered honestly. "I just had a night on the run through the Forest, that's all."
"If that is so, then how was it that I came upon the Princess and the Jarl in his personal bed chambers, with the Jarl in such a state of undress?" Gilderoy asked, having none of the facts, as usual. "Surely he had designs on her and who is to say that he hasn't acted on them before?"
"I am to say!" Hermione answered, hotly. Clearly, she had little patience for Gilderoy and his assumptions. "Mother, the only reason that I was in the Jarl's chambers with him in such a state of undress was because of his wounds."
Minerva paused, but was willing to listen. "I'm not sure I am following what you are suggesting, Hermione."
Hermione huffed, blowing a wayward strand of hair from her face. "I am so grateful for Jarl Remus from saving me from the clutches of...of King Fenrir, that when I saw he was wounded, I was so worried for him," she said, her chin jutting out proudly. "I resolved to do anything that I could to help heal him, including looking at his wounds."
"Perhaps his cock needed a bit of healing too, eh, Princess?" Sirius quipped, a goofy smile on his face, as though he were quite pleased with the turn of events.
"Sirius, not helping!" Hermione hissed. "All that I did was remove his tunic so that I could see the wound on his side. I cleaned it and was going to dress the wound when Sir Gilderoy so rudely barged in and began announcing to the world that I had been dishonored, when I haven't been. I haven't!"
A few beats of silence passed, without anyone saying anything - not Sirius's suggestive quips, Queen Minerva's sharp questions nor Giledroy's blustering accusations. Remus felt completely on edge as he waited for someone - anyone - to say something so they could remove themselves from this odd sort of limbo they found themselves in. Hermione turned to him, a slightly panicked look beginning to form on her face.
"I should have your head for this, Viking," Queen Minerva finally said from her throne. "Not only have you dishonored my daughter, but she is also the heir to these lands, calling my reign into question!"
"No Min-Mother, you can't!" Hermione said, moving to stand in front of him as some sort of protective shield. "I promise you that nothing happened," she pleaded.
It was only then that Remus began to feel any real sort of fear. Had the book gone rogue? He'd assumed in all of the charms work that had gone into something as magical as this there would have been some sort of protections for the modern participants, much like their food needs had been seen to. But then again, they had gone out of style very quickly. Was it due to some sort of public relations nightmare that had been quietly kept from general knowledge?
After all, he had been stabbed not long ago. And it was a real wound - it had fucking hurt!
"You, viking, don't you have anything to say for yourself?" the Queen demanded, obviously having taken issue with his reticence. "After you've spoiled my daughter?"
"I doubt that anything I could say would convince you," he said after a beat, having decided that the Queen's mind was rather made up already. "But, I have not spoiled your daughter." Though how he wished that he had spoiled her. Remus both cursed and thanked Gilderoy for barging in when he did. He'd wanted Hermione so badly in that moment, lust clouding all of his judgment that he was ready to go along with anything that she asked of him. But at the same time, he knew that they needed to slow down and actually talk about this first. She'd promised that he wasn't taking advantage of the situation, but...what exactly did that mean?
Queen Minerva snorted. "I really should have you killed," she said, thoroughly unimpressed in his lackluster response.
"Remus!" Hermione said, sounding absolutely desperate at this point. "You can't kill him, mother! Please. If you do... well, you are just going to have to kill me, too."
"Hermione, don't be ridiculous," he said, finally acknowledging the witch for the first time. He didn't know what would happen if he was killed in the book. Would he end up back in Grimmauld Place? But he wasn't going to let Hermione sacrifice herself to the unknown, too.
"Would you do anything for my daughter?" Queen Minerva asked, staring at him intently, completely ignoring the pleas of her daughter.
Remus didn't even need to think about it. "Of course," he affirmed, knowing that it was the truth.
"Please don't kill him, mother," Hermione said one more time, nearly on the verge of tears.
"Of course, I can't kill him!" Minerva said, her accent particularly pronounced in the moment. "Even if he hasn't spoiled you, the idea that he has will permeate. Who is going to want to marry you if they think you've lain with a viking, willingly or unwillingly?"
Hermione scoffed at the idea, but held her tongue, barely. Remus knew how much that kind of sentiment made her bristle. With his modern thinking, he could agree with her.
"Instead, we must look at this as the opportunity that it is," she continued, pressing her hands together in her laps. "You, heathen viking, will be baptized in the morning and then you will do right by my daughter and marry her."
"A...a wedding?" Remus found himself stuttering. Merlin, he'd never imagined himself getting married, not since he'd grown into a teenager and realized the reality of what being a werewolf actually meant for him. So, even a fanciful, vaguely medieval wedding feast seemed out of his grasp. He looked to Hermione, stunned.
"Yes, you will renounce your heathen ways and join my daughter in matrimony," Minerva continued. "In doing so, I will recognize this kingdom as your own, which you will rule side by side with the Princess. At the time of my death, our two kingdoms will be combined into one Christian nation." She sounded rather pleased with herself.
When Remus did not immediately agree to the plan, she looked at him once again. "Well, what say you, Jarl Remus? Do you agree to my plan?" she asked, sounding vaguely bored. "Or am I going to have to kill you after all?"
"Remus," Hermione hissed from her place next to him. "Just say yes."
"Yes, I agree to your plan, Queen Minerva," he said.
To his surprise, the hall erupted in excitement at the prospect, both the Queen's men, and his own. Perhaps they were excited at the prospect of finally being a recognized settlement, rather than an invading encampment for once.
"Sir Gilderoy," Minerva said, over the shouting. "Please work with, erm - this Sirius fellow to arrange the feast. I will see Lord Severus about the baptism."
Hermione whirled around to face him, relief plain as day in her smile. "Oh wow - I was really worried there for a moment," she said. "I guess this book really kept me on my toes." She reached out and gave his hand a tight squeeze. "This will certainly be something to tell everyone about back home."
But, before he could talk with her anymore to deduce her comfort level in all of this craziness, Minerva was calling her name.
"To me, Hermione," the Queen scolded, calling her daughter to her side. "You are not married yet and as such I will not stand for any more whispers."
With Hermione pulled away from him, he wasn't entirely sure what to do now that no one was paying any attention to him. After a few seconds of standing around like an idiot, he decided to retreat to the solitude of his private rooms.