A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one of my favourites. As always, feel free to come see me on tumblr at asirensrage. The colours that Hermione chose for her kefta can be found a dress. Link is in my profile.

Chapter 6: The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Seen

Genya escorts her outside. She can feel the eyes on her, even if she can't see them properly. The tradition with the veil is a stupid one, in Hermione's opinion. She hates the idea that she cannot see the people around her clearly. There is too much opportunity to strike at her like this.

She wears it regardless. It allows her to make faces at least at the people she passes by. She doesn't have to stop herself from rolling her eyes as they whisper when she crosses their paths. It also makes her hands tremble, itching for her wand, and she clenches them tightly over and over, trying to ignore it.

General Kirigan is waiting for her. She doesn't stop the pleased smirk from growing when she sees the look of surprise on his face. The kefta she had been given had been etherealki blue to start with. With Genya's help and eye for style, it now was a bright coral at the shoulders and collar. The colour changed as the garment continued down, shifting into a red, then purple into a dark blue. The bottom edge trailed off in black. It was the colour of the sun rising or setting depending on the way you looked at it.

"That is not what I sent," he says as she reaches him.

"It is. I simply changed the colour."

"The original colour was chosen for a reason."

She tries not to sigh. She does not have the energy for this. "As you did not share said meaning, I took it into my own hands to adjust it accordingly. You wanted a Sun Summoner and now you will bring them the dawn. Is that not enough?"

He does not answer. Instead, he offers his arms and turns them toward the gaudy building looming over the Little Palace before he speaks again. "You must be careful of the manner in which you speak of Ravka's enemies."

She looks at him carefully. His expression does not give her any sign of his true thoughts on the matter, though she can hear the disappointment in his tone. "I stand by what I said." She touches her left arm lightly where the mudblood scar resides. "I will carry scars for the rest of my life, given to me while I was still a child. Not for anything I said or did, but for the offence of being born different from those in power. I will not ignore prejudice."

"Every Grisha dead and alive understands that kind of hatred, it is not unknown to us, but you must be more circumspect. You draw unnecessary controversy."

"I speak the truth. I will not stand by idly and let such comments thrive. It's best to cut them down with the truth. We are not different or unworthy of respect because of our appearance or culture."

"Again, you make such choices without the knowledge needed. Your words will reach the Royals. We shall be lucky if we are capable of destroying any suspicion on you now for treason or espionage."

"It is not treason to want people treated equally and if it is considered such, perhaps there needs to be a change in the power. The sun shines over all, not only Ravka."

He leans toward her. "Keep such thoughts to yourself." He nearly hisses. "The tsar is an absolute ruler here and where his power ends, the church begins. Neither are friend to the Grisha or even the common folk you would champion. You will not always be in my company and it is best that others do not hear you. I would hate for the Sun Summoner to come under unnecessary suspicion. I find the best way to conceal the truth is not to have people asking questions to begin with."

Unfortunately, once again he has a point. "I will do my best." She will not make any promises. She has been through too much and already knows that if she sees something, she will not remain silent. She is incapable of it.

"Thank you. Are you prepared for the presentation?"

She has her wand tucked into her sleeve. She does not know exactly how much they will need to see, just something to prove she is what they are claiming. There is a notice-me-not spell on her wand itself.

They slow to a stop and Hermione lifts the veil slightly to glance at the Grand Palace. If she thought the rooms she had been given at the Little Palace were ostentatious, they had nothing on this place. She could practically hear Ron telling her that they were overcompensating.

"It's really...something else," she says as politely as she can, dropping the veil back into place.

"It is the ugliest building I've ever seen," Kirigan says dryly. Hermione cannot stop her snort of laughter at that. "Come. They await."

He steps forward first and offers her his hand again. There is a slight comfort in being escorted by him and having her hand on his arm in the process. The man is an ally and she feels as though she is about to be fed to the wolves. Especially when she can't bloody well see with the stupid veil in her face.


"Be ready," he says to her as they reach the grand reception hall. He removes her hand from his arm. They cannot look as though they are already allied against any others.

"There is no other choice," she replies. That does not make it easy though. There is so much that could go wrong. If she makes a mistake, if they do not believe, then it will all be for naught and likely end in their deaths and the deaths of many others. She can't let that happen.

"Just keep your focus on me," he says softly. "And this will soon be behind us."

"Let's hope so." There is a gathering of Grisha that follow them into the building. She knows what he's doing. It is a display, showing that the power of the Grisha is behind her, figuratively and literally. It would be a threat if taken the wrong way, but the presentation is just that. A presentation. She is to be shown off like prized cattle and it is expected that even the Grisha are welcome in this farce.


There is a small crowd as they enter to meet the Royals. Other nobility line the path leading the thrones. The King and Queen are seated high above the others. It is an unnecessary display of power and position. Hermione dislikes them instantly.

The King motions at her with two fingers. If Hermione was not already resigned to play her part, she'd refuse for that alone. She is not a dog. She removes the veil and hands the headpiece to the woman who walks up to her to claim it.

"I thought she'd be taller," the King says. It takes everything in Hermione not to snap back.

"I thought she'd be prettier," the Queen remarks. Hermione instantly feels like she's back under the scrutiny of all of Viktor's fans. "Pretty enough, I suppose. Welcome. Who are you?"

"Maya Grankova, your majesty," Hermione says. Her voice echoes clearly through the hall. She's had enough experience in making sure she is heard in chambers larger than this one.

"She is the Sun Summoner, moya tsaritsa," Kirigan speaks up from next to her. "She will change the future. Starting now." The entire room darkens in shadow. She watches in interest how some of the nobility in the room flinch as his power drowns out the lights. This is the first time she has seen his power without needing to defend herself from it. He controls it with ease. He steps in front of her. She's been preparing for this and her calculations have given her the best choice in spellwork.

Kirigan takes her hand and her skin buzzes as though there is an electrical current running through her.

It is not an easy thing to create new magic. The work in spell creation is entrenched in arithmancy and language. Hermione excels in both. It's not that she's creating a new spell from nothing, but she has adjusted an existing one for her purpose. It is something that is used with Vampires but she twists it to keep it from being harmful to humans. She flicks the hand where her wand is hidden and whispers the words just enough to give them power. It roars to life.

Kirigan's gaze burns into her. She's not sure if he's breathing. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to draw her attention to the warmth of his hand. She pulls her focus away from him. Passing out is not part of the plan.


It is a mix between the lumos solem and a shielding spell. It bursts into existence from between them, settling around the general and herself. It would protect them if they were under attack. She could raise it in power, both in shield and light. Instead, she holds it for a moment. The General moves aside, still touching her, but allowing her to be displayed to the Royal family. She squeezes Kirigan's hand, now relaxed in her grasp, in warning before she lets it and the spell fall.

The King is standing when she can see him again. He is clapping, as are the other nobles around them. A few are calling out "bravo" and "sankta" to her.

"How long will she need?" the King asks. It is not directed at her.

"As long as it takes," she says. "Destroying something like the Fold is no easy task."

Kirigan cuts in quickly before the King can respond to her abruptness. He moves forward. "She alone may not be able to do it, such an undertaking may require an amplifier and she has missed many years of learning to wield her power. She must remain with me at the Little Palace to train. Undisturbed."

"Then train her quickly," the King replies. "Our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation...that needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again, the better."

Hermione bites back her response. Of course, it is about power. It is always about power. There is so little thought to the actual people of these areas that are affected. What did they want? How has the lack of trade and the conscription of their young people affected the common folk who are the backbone of any nation?

"Agreed," Kirigan says. "Moi tsar."

"If I may, your majesty," a man in a black cassock next to the King speaks up. The King motions him forward. "Miss. Grankova, I speak for all when I welcome you. Where do you come from?"

"Thank you," Hermione calls back. "I am afraid I do not have a clear answer. My family travelled often. I was on my way to Novokribirsk when the volcra attacked." Once again she's thankful for all of Viktor's pronunciation lessons and the story she and Kirigan agreed upon.

"They were nomads?"

"They followed the work," she says.

"And what are your beliefs?" the man asks. His stare feels as though he is attempting to strip her to the bones for her answer.

"Ms. Grankova has an avid interest in the saints but has never been afforded the time or materials to complete her study," Kirigan speaks up. Hermione looks at him sharply but he keeps his eyes on the man next to the King.

"I would be happy to assist in this matter," the man says.

Hermione grits her teeth before she smiles. "Thank you. I'm sure it will be enlightening." She grabs Kirigan's arm and squeezes quickly. A reminder, she hopes, of the tasks that already lay before them.

"If you will excuse us," Kirigan says. "We have much work to do." He grabs her hand and turns them both away from the Royals. He leads her out, past the other Grisha who look as though they all have something to say. "Come," he says quietly. "We will have a private introduction back at the Little Palace." They all follow quickly after that.


The Grisha following inhibits their ability to have any sort of frank conversation. Hermione does not appreciate the way he basically sent her into the claws of the priest. She doesn't know enough to agree but history has shown that religious zealots rarely have good intentions with those like her.

They finally stop once they reach the foyer of the Little Palace. Kirigan drops her hand. "I will send for you later," he says to her. "We will start your training immediately." He turns to the crowd that has followed them. "Do not crowd her. Her powers are yet new. We do not want any incidents." He leaves her there, surrounded by these Grisha that she does not know.

They all suddenly start talking at once. Hermione wants to flee. There are too many people and as one of them steps towards her, reaching out, Hermione moves back. Someone grabs the person and pulls them back. She glances around, looking for a way out.

"Apologies," the woman who stopped them says. She steps up in front of Hermione and smiles. She's familiar, an Inferni by her kefta, but it takes Hermione a second to realize where she knows the woman from. She changed her memories, along with so many others in Kribirsk. "We are all so excited to meet you. I just arrived back at the Palace today. I wanted to take the opportunity to say thank you. If you hadn't been on the skiff, I would not be here. I am Natacha."

Hermione smiles and nods, despite the guilt that climbs up at the praise. She didn't save this woman. The only thing Hermione has done is take the place of the woman who rightfully should be here.

"If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," she says before moving back and allowing another to take her place.

It feels like a blur of people who come to welcome her and congratulate her. As if she deserves this. All Hermione wants to do is run and hide. There are too many people around her that she does not know. The only ones that stick out to her are Nadia and Marie. Mainly because the way they introduced themselves, together, reminded her of Lavender and Pavarti. It made her so homesick but she could not help her smile, thanking them for being so welcoming.

Another woman in Etherealki blue steps up. She offers her hand and pulls her in close. "Welcome," she says with a brittle smile. The woman's grip tightens as she leans to whisper in Hermione's ear. "You'll never belong. Go back to drifting like the trash you are."

Hermione's grip tightens back, as hard as she can, digging into the pressure point between the woman's forefinger and thumb. She pulls back and grins sharply at her. "I will delight in proving you wrong."

The woman's eyes widen before she yanks her hand out of Hermione's. She sniffs before turning and walking away. Hermione isn't sure what she did to piss the woman off since she's never met her before, but if they think she's going to cower or hide from a few insults...they have no idea what Hermione is capable of. Perhaps that would have worked with someone who had not been through a war and came out the winner. She has more important things to deal with than people being petty especially one stupid enough to risk her hand like that. Grisha need both to cast. That does not mean she won't keep an eye on her though. It is better to know your enemies and ensure they cannot stab you in the back.

Genya shows up in front of her next and ushers Hermione out, to her relief. When she's finally free, where there is space and she is no longer surrounded, she feels like she can breathe. Her hands start shaking again. The adrenaline from the panic she had shoved down comes rushing back out.

She needs to get out of here. She needs to get back to her rooms and be alone. "Is this the way to my room?" She asks, trying to hold on to the magic that is burning under her skin. It is reacting to her need to escape, to be safe.

Genya must see something in Hermione's expression because she does not ask any questions, instead, she picks up her pace. In moments, she opens a door and Hermione is relieved to see the ostentatious rooms that she has been given.

She is able to hold on to her magic long enough for Genya to leave her alone and to throw up a shield. Then it bursts. Hermione collapses under the weight. Whatever was inside of the shield, breaks under the force of her magic lashing out.

When she can finally breathe again, she wards the room. Only after they are set in place, when protection spells line the walls and keep those with ill intent out, does the tension slowly leach out of her.

She sits on the floor, in the ruins of the room. She should be better than this. She should have more control. Everything feels as though it is slipping through her fingers. She is not supposed to be here but she has entrenched herself into this world now.


There is a knock on her door.

It takes more energy than Hermione expects to lift herself off of the ground. She carries the weight of the expectations, like an undertow she feels herself drowning in and has been long before she ever came here, to open the door. General Kirigan is on the other side.

"May I enter?" he asks.

She wants to say no. She wants to bar the room shut and allow herself to cry. Instead, she glances to make sure he's alone before she lets him in. He's not. Ivan, the Grisha from the Fold, is with him. She opens the door and invites them inside.

Both of them look around.

"Redecorating?" Kirigan asks. She doesn't bother giving him a response. She throws him an unimpressed look before she casts a large reparo on the room. Everything slips back into place, reformed as if they were never broken. Both of the men look a little stunned at the display. The man who accompanied him looks around before staring at Hermione.

"How?" He motions around them. "How are you able to do such things?"

"Magic," Hermione says simply. She is too tired to delve into an explanation.

"Ms. Granger's abilities are not as limited as our own," Kirigan says. "It is why she is such a valuable and important figure at this time."

"Indeed," Ivan says. "That much is obvious." He looks at Hermione. "What else are you capable of?"

"Many things." She does not have the energy to showcase her abilities. She looks at Kirigan. "Why are you here?"

"Genya informed me that there was an incident. Upon arrival, I can see that the concern was warranted. What happened?"

She doesn't know how to answer. Not really. "I was...overwhelmed."

The men share a look.

"Your reactions are not uncommon," Ivan says slowly, "for one who has seen things such as we have. There are things that will help."

"I am aware." She knows the tricks...they were just tricks of home. She was far too used to dreamless sleep and being able to use her magic freely.

"I would suggest," he continues regardless, "that you engage in methods that have proven to work with some of our Grisha. Exercise, a healthy diet and sun exposure will help. You will find some during your training. Meditation, if you focus on acknowledging the cause and redirecting the responses." He seems to hesitate before he adds, "a hobby would be a good idea."

"A hobby?" she asks, her face scrunching automatically. She does not have time for a hobby.

"Indeed," Ivan says.

"In the meantime," Kirigan cuts in before Hermione can argue the idea. "We may find other solutions to assist you. Perhaps...we can obtain for you a bodyguard, someone who will act as a buffer against strangers."

"We can have them act as handmaid," Ivan adds. "She'll face some jealousy from the other Grisha for it, but if it works…"

"If we find the right person, they can also work as a cultural tutor."

"At what point are either of you going to ask for my opinion on this?" Hermione says. The men turn to look at her. For a second, she's struck by the image of Ron and Harry, turning to convince her of some stupid idea.

"Hermione?"

The sound of her name pulls her out of her thoughts. How long has it been since she's heard it? How long has she actually been here? She calculates the time quickly. It's been two months. Maybe longer.

"I'm sorry," she says, shaking the realization out of her head. "What were you saying?"

They both glance at each other again.

"I think," Kirigan finally speaks. "We need to have a conversation about what exactly is going to hinder our plan."


So she tells them about her war.

Not all the details, but enough that they have a small understanding of what she has been through. She tells them of hiding with her friends, rewards placed on their heads for them to be brought in dead or alive. She tells them of others, ones like her in their blood and family, who were held in mock trials and stripped of their birthright to magic and awaiting extermination in camps. She tells them of the friends she has lost, children dead because there was no morals or accountability on the other side and how it took so long for the so-called good guys to fight back with lethal means. So many were dead for no reason but the refusal to put the villains down for good. Her disgust for those who stayed neutral or who argued for their leniency and healing is clear as she speaks, and continues as she explains how the fight never ended for her and those like her, but everyone else just stopped and accepted how things had been before. She tells them of what she did to her own parents for their safety, how there has been no cure and how no one wanted to help some non-magicals even after everything she had done for them.

She's been fighting for so long, she no longer remembers how to stop.

It is enough.

Kirigan looks as though he wants to pace as she speaks, furious and nauseated. Shadows darken the room at moments in her story before they retract. Ivan remains silent, listening stoically. It reminds her of Viktor. He had always been patient with her, waiting until she was ready to speak and accept what he was offering.

"I am sorry," Ivan breaks the silence when she finally stops talking. Kirigan turns to him in surprise. "I am sorry that after all you have been through, you are here, trying to help solve the problems in our nation as well. But I promise we will look after you better than the people who let you down. Here, Grisha will fight by your side as long as there is work to be done."

Something releases in Hermione's chest. Has anyone ever really said sorry to her and meant it? She received condolences about her parents, sure, from the Weasleys and others that she knows, but it was always tinged with a little bit of a relief. She could always practically hear the silent 'but they're just muggles' when they offered it.

No one had ever apologized for letting their world fall into the state it had been that allowed for the atrocities to occur, for the way that muggleborns were and continued to be treated, and no one ever fucking wanted to deal with it afterwards.

Tears build up in her eyes. "Thank you," she chokes out. He simply nods in response. She tries to swallow back the tears, to keep them from falling.

"Our work will be much easier than I anticipated if you can move Ivan to such a vow," Kirigan says lightly. She appreciates the break, especially with the look Ivan throws his commander. The General moves towards her though and kneels at her feet. His eyes are on level with hers despite the fact that she is sitting.

"Hermione," Kirigan's voice is low but laced with promise. He takes her hand. His grip is warm and firm. "I understand. I sometimes feel as though I have been fighting this war alone for so long. I've buried so many good friends, only to lose more. I see the children that come here for protection, who I have to teach to become soldiers to justify their right to live in this country. It pains me to know that our people share the same history of persecution as yours. But you are not alone. We are not alone. Not anymore. With your help, I will do whatever it takes to ensure victory so that our people can know peace. And when the Fold is dealt with I will do what I can to help you return home, if you still wish it."

She releases a slow, shuddering breath. She nods slowly. "I won't let your people fall the same way mine did."

"That's all I ask."

"If I may interrupt," Ivan says, breaking the tension that has grown between them. Hermione pulls her hand back. "It is nearly time for dinner."

"Of course," Kirigan stands up. "I will send in Genya," he offers.

"There's no need," Hermione says. "If I must go, I will be fine to attend on my own."

"You must."

She sighs. "Very well. Let me make myself...presentable. When does it begin?"

"In thirty minutes," Ivan says.

"Then we will leave you to your preparations. I will send you an escort," Kirigan says.

"Thank you, both of you."

They leave. The silence that usually feels oppressive is a little less so.

[tbc]