Necessary Magics
After all the planning, preparation, the spell work, the deception, and the sneaking around, getting Styr to actually drink the concoction that would make the curse permanent was…well, anticlimactic. Slipping the concoction into Styr's fermented goat's milk was so easy it was almost too easy, and I waited for the other shoe to drop. It never did. I just sort of tipped it in his drink while disguising myself as a servant girl – seriously, I will never give Lavender a hard time about glamours ever again – and then I was done.
That was it. There were no sparks, no sudden reaction, no nothing. He drank his altered milk and then absolutely nothing happened. Severus had told me it would take time; it was just that I hadn't quite realized how much time he meant. And I was apparently – to nobody's surprise but my own – terrible at waiting. Like, absolutely rubbish at it.
I paced our campsites every night chewing on a thumbnail. I started to question myself, question my decision. Did I do the right thing? I had let the spell get away from me, had let the dark seductiveness of the curse pull me in just a little deeper. I had taken it further than planned, cursed more than just him…but did I do the right thing? What if it wasn't enough? Maybe I should have dived deeper, laid it thicker. What if I had just done something more…permanent?
During the day, I tried to watch the Magnar as inconspicuously as possible, but not nearly enough according to Loboda. Six days after I poisoned the Magnar, Loboda finally approached me. We had just finished dinner, Ida was cleaning the last of the bowls with melted snow, and I was slowly unbraiding my hair for bed. I could have done it with magic, but there was something calming about the repetitive motion, the simple bedtime routine. I was on the last braid when the much larger man lowered himself down onto my log, clasped his hands together, and looked at me from the corner of his eye.
"Alright," he said, voice soft but still loud enough to carry to the others. Aslaug and Canute sat across from us, the younger girl sending me a sympathetic smile as she looked away into the woods while trying to appear as if she wasn't eavesdropping. Canute had no such compunction and chose instead to stare directly at us. "What did you do?"
"What?" I asked bewildered, and a little too loudly. "What makes you think I did anything?"
Loboda only raised an unimpressed eyebrow in response. I spluttered for a few more seconds, ignoring Severus' soft chuckles in my ear, before I finally gave up on the ruse altogether. Honestly, I had wanted to be caught. That was the whole point, phase two of my four stage plan, I just had to make it seem like I didn't want to be.
"What did you do?" Loboda asked again, repeating the words slowly as if I was a particularly mischievous child.
"I didn't do anything, really," I said, waving my hand at him to stop him from interrupting. Alfhild and her mom wandered over from the horses to join our conversation. Canute's parents were still putting the two youngest to bed, but I could see his father casting us curious glances from the entryway of their tent. "I mean, I really didn't do anything. But…" I said, trailing off as I bent my head. Through my loose hair I glanced around surreptitiously.
The trees had been getting thinner as we moved more south, and camps had started to pack in closer as the weather turned colder. Our campsite was flush against two others, their fires bright enough to cast shadows from our tents. A few dozen or so men and women were meandering between our three camps.
Thenns didn't really have a sense of personal space. Everything was communal, shared between people and families. Campsites were no different. Most nights, we would have even the guards join us at our fire to warm up and eat before moving on.
"But I did…sort of…kind of did do something," I said in admission. I was careful, both with my words and my tone. I spoke loud enough to be heard by the others, but still quiet enough to make it seem like I was trying to have a private conversation. "A few days ago…"
"Ah," Loboda said with a solemn nod. "When you knelt before the fire to pray to your gods."
I had made certain that I had been seen, not only by my camp, but by as many other passerby's as possible. Kneeling in the snow, I had discreetly cast a few spells to throw sparks from the fire and to briefly change its color from orange into pink, purple, and blue. It had looked very similar to Severus' flames, but just different enough that no one would think to question it. The similarities between the two types of flames was a calculated risk. I had hoped – well, Severus had told me he hoped – that it would appear to be a design of the gods.
"Yes, of a sort," I said in answer to his words. It hadn't been phrased as a question, but I treated it as one all the same. Thenns were very particular about gods. "I wasn't so much praying to them, as I was beseeching them."
"Beseeching? For like wisdom or something?" Aslaug asked, her voice raising higher as she tilted her head quizzically. It was as if asking your gods for a favor was unheard of. Though, thinking back upon it, whenever I saw Loboda pray to his own gods, he wasn't really asking for anything, more of requesting guidance.
"No," I said carefully, trying to be discreet as I darted my eyes around to gauge the mood of those listening. Ragna appeared to be the only one showing any sort of distasteful expression, but that wasn't anything new. I was pretty certain that was just her resting face. "I-I mean I beseeched them for aid. You know, 'I pray to you Merlin, intercede on my behalf,' and such." I mumbled, translating part of what I had said in my mother tongue as I had played theater with our campfire. In all honesty, the majority of the spell work was done completely in the safety and privacy of our tent, and only the final act, the actual last layer of the curse was done at the campfire. Not that they needed to know that.
"You did what?" Loboda hissed, looking affronted. "Why would you do that? Calling your gods out like that," he shook his head furiously. "Do you know what kind of misfortune could befall you for daring to do such a thing?"
"You forget," I said quickly, trying to assure him as I rested my hand on his thick forearm. "My gods aren't yours. Mine do not mind when we beseech them, as long as it is only done on occasion and in true need. And I truly need their intervention if I am to keep my family together and safe from the Magnar and Elder Ake."
Loboda was still shaking his head, but at least he was no longer admonishing me.
"What…uh, what do you think they are going to do?" Aslaug asked cautiously. She was wringing her hands together as she said the words, stumbling over them as her gaze darted around the campfire. Her eyes refused to meet mine.
"I don't know," I answered carefully. Yes, I did, but they couldn't know that. "Nothing too dangerous…my gods don't work that way. A minor curse, probably. Something inconvenient or annoying. Enough to get my point across and get what I want, but not enough to kill."
"Oh," she mumbled, her fingers twisting so tightly together I feared she was going to break or dislocate one. And still, she wouldn't look at me. She didn't speak again for the rest of the night and my chest ached uncomfortably as she went to the tent she shared with her mother and sister without even bidding me goodnight.
Loboda gave me a heated glare as I stared after Aslaug's retreating back before he pulled me into a quick but tight hug. "I fear you have gotten in way over your head."
I laughed softly as he released me. His hands were gripping my elbows, and I twisted my arms to grip his in return. "Don't worry so much. Getting in over my head is my specialty."
He huffed in annoyance, yanking me close enough to kiss my forehead before he all but shoved me towards my tent. "Get some rest and stay out of trouble. At least until morning."
Shaking my head in amusement, I did as he said. And I stayed out of trouble all night long.
The next morning, Styr's horse bucked him off just as he was passing a river and he plunged below the ice. The entire caravan of thousands had to halt for the day as his guards pulled him from the icy water and camp was set up early to allow him time to dry off. I wasn't there to see it, but I wished desperately that I had, his face must have been truly a moment to remember. Pity I missed it.
I also missed it when he threw a fit because there was no more of his favorite fermented goats-milk available. According to Canute's mother, one of the sleds that had carried his personal stash had upended when the horses straps had snapped. His personal reserves were entirely gone.
Shoddy leatherwork, some mumbled. Ill omens, whispered others.
The next day a light storm rolled in, not enough to put a stop to our never-ending trek, but certainly enough to slow us down. By the time we stopped for camp, I heard that several of the servants had been flogged. According to rumor, they hadn't packed the Magnar's tent correctly and when they went to set it up for the night, the massive pavilion leaked.
The days passed as such, each misfortune something minor but inconvenient – always mostly to the Magnar – occurred. Spoiled food delivered to his tent. His favorite decorative antlers broken when one of the sled horses dragging his supplies got spooked and took off into the forest. Hours later, the horse and sled were retrieved, but much of it was missing or broken. Misplacing his axe when he went to spar with his men, only to find it later after the one he used in replacement broke, causing him to trip and fall into the muddy snow. His was saddle not fit tight enough so when he went to mount, he fell flat on his back.
I missed every single one of them but relished in the gossip all the same. Rumor of what I had done spread like fiendfyre around the camps. Whispers of my gods granting me favor and cursing their Magnar with ill fortune. Hushed talk of what it meant for the Thenns if their leader had caught the displeasure of foreign gods.
We were only a few days from where this King Mance's camp was rumored to be, according to the scouts, when two men, mounted on horseback, thundered into our camp.
"Witch!" One called and I froze in place, dried jerky still partway in my mouth as if I suddenly forgot how to chew. Loboda stood, axe in hand, and Canute stood beside him. Behind me, I could hear Alfhild drawing her own weapon as Canute's brothers were ushered into their tent. "The Magnar demands your presence at once!"
It looked like I was finally done waiting.
"And what does the Magnar want with my charge at this time of night?" Loboda said as he spit on the ground, lowering his axe but not releasing it. I shook my head at the others, gesturing for them to stand down.
"That is between the Magnar and the witch…Elder," the man added quickly as he finally tore his eyes away from me long enough for him to realize just who he was talking to.
"Very well," Loboda nodded. "Girl," he called to Ida who had ducked behind Chudley's fat and uncaring form. The blasted horse was still grazing, completely oblivious to the tension that had fallen over our little campsite. It was thick enough to cut with a knife for Merlin sake! I thought animals had a better sense for these sorts of things. "Ready two horses. And then prepare for bed, I expect we will be absent much of this night and will have no need of you when we return."
I frowned at Loboda as Ida immediately rushed to do as he bid, but I kept my tongue. I knew he was trying to make a point, but I did so hate it when he treated the young girl like a slave.
"Elder," the other male whose horse was shifting in discomfort from the hostile atmosphere spoke out hesitantly. "The Magnar only asked for the witch."
Loboda nodded slowly as if he wasn't really listening to their words while he set his axe reluctantly aside. My hand lingered on the sheathed blade at my side, and though I longed to keep it, I started unbuckling the belt when Loboda tilted his head towards me. I knew that I would never be allowed in the presence of the Magnar while armed, but it still left me feeling uncomfortable as I darted into my tent to place the blade upon my bed.
When I returned back outside, I could see Aslaug moving to assist Ida out of the corner of my eye, but my attention was drawn to the guards. They still had not sheathed their weapons. "Elder!" The closest guard said with a sharp bite to his tone. "The Magnar only asked for the witch. You are to stay here!"
"And the witch is in my charge," Loboda replied with his arms crossed, his biceps bulging with the movement. He had removed his furs for the night and had been wiping himself down with a warm cloth when the guards had stormed into our camp. The sleeveless shirt he wore did wonders for his build, but I wondered how he was so unbothered by the cold, even as I could see that his arms and neck were still damp. "I answer for her, so declared by the last Magnar. Or have you forgotten. If she has done wrong, I am responsible for it. Unless you want to go against the will of the gods."
They flinched at the words, both of their eyes darting back to me. I wondered briefly if they feared their gods…or mine. Ida led the saddled Chudley to me and Aslaug an unnamed young mare over to Loboda. Once she had handed the horse over to the man, Ida darted into his tent and returned with his furs. Loboda wasted no time in shrugging into the furs, pulling them into place so quickly that the guards could barely get out a grunt of annoyance before Loboda was swinging himself into the saddle.
"Elder!" Canute called out, trotting up to us with a borrowed horse from Ragna. The older woman was frowning severely at his back but didn't speak up as Ida moved to quickly saddle the additional horse as well. "We wish to accompany you." The 'we' was apparently Alfhild, who led the last horse towards us, unstrapping her father's axe from the saddle and handing it over to Aslaug who stood to the side wide eyed and pale.
My heart swelled with their conviction, even as something that felt a little like fear slipped in beneath it. I really didn't want to get anyone else involved, but now I knew it was too late. Even if they were forced to stay behind and didn't come with me to see the Magnar, Styr would still hear of what had happened. There was nothing I could do to diffuse the situation, so I held my tongue, even as I gave them both a glance of appreciation.
"Absolutely unacceptable," one of the guards said, spitting on the ground next to the fire. "We will take the witch, and only the witch!"
Loboda gave the two men a withering glare as I mounted up, Chudley puffing a grunt of annoyance as I settled into the saddle, Alfhild and Canute following right behind. I was a little slower to situate myself in the saddle properly, Ida running from one side of the horse to the other to make certain I was secure. But it was understandable as I was still reeling from the sudden support I had when I had been planning to take the Magnar on by myself with only Severus as backup. It seemed that I had to change our plans, and quickly.
Ignoring the two disagreeable men, Loboda gave them a curt nod before he took the lead. The guards didn't cease their protests, muttering 'the Magnar this' and the 'the Magnar that' but none of us were listening anymore. After a few minutes, even they fell quiet.
The ride to the Magnar's side of camp was short, shorter than I wished as Severus started to hiss words of action, reaction, and counteraction into my ear. It honestly reminded much of our games of mental chess that I couldn't help but be slightly amused by it. Severus' mental exercises were exhausting, but they did serve their purpose. Even now, as the Magnar's tent loomed over us as at our approach – a dark gaping canvas clawing up into the night sky with various antlers and animal bones – something of a plan started to form.
It looked more intimidating now, in the light of the torches, than it did when I was here last during that day to negotiate. My heart was pounding in my chest as Chudley came to a stop and I dismounted under the stares of the nearby Thenns. A passing man dragging some sort of sled stopped long enough to spit on the ground when he caught my eye, before moving on with his business.
Severus' low hum of words did little to ease the sudden fear that flooded me as I was guided into the tent, the glares of the other villagers making my shoulder blades itch. Did I really do the right thing? I didn't have time to ponder further as Loboda and I came to a halt just inside the entrance, Alfhild and Canute flanking us.
The tent looked much the same since I had last saw it, but I could see where my curse had started to affect it. There were less furs covering the ground, the solid brown color of the canvas above broken with patchworked leather that had been used to mend it, the great antlers over the bed were gone. A woman sat reclining on the bed, a different one from the last time I was here, her belly slightly swollen as she glanced nervously around at my companions.
Styr sat upon the same throne-like chair, lounging back as he pressed a damp cloth to his bleeding brow with one hand, and drank heavily out of the mug in the other. His blue eyes met mine as he lowered his mug, bruise on his cheek prominent, dark circles under his eyes, and his leg propped oddly to the side. He stood slowly as the guards trickled in, now nine where before there had been five, shifting his weight onto only one leg and curling his lip with each movement. Elder Ake entered last and I could hear him and Loboda speaking softly behind me.
Honestly, I had never seen the Magnar look so worn and tired before. My brow furrowed and Severus' searing anger rushed through me so hotly it burned out the small bit of pity that had started to form. I didn't want to feel sympathy for him, didn't want to feel the guilt as each step he took clearly caused him pain…but Styr was just a muggle. He had no way of knowing what it meant to be cursed by a witch, no defenses to protect him, no government to stop me.
He truly had stood no chance at all.
"Little witch," Styr greeted, the words familiar but for once the tone wasn't. That smug drawl he always put on each syllable was gone. Instead, there was a hard edge to the consonants as he threw the damp rag to the floor and my eyes were drawn to the small chunks of ice that spilled out onto the furs.
"Styr," I greeted back, keeping my face placid as my own guilt fought with Severus' righteous anger. I honestly didn't know what to feel as I saw for the first time what my curse had wrought.
There was perhaps a second, maybe two, of complete calm as we stood there staring at each other before Styr was suddenly right in front of me, his long aggressive strides eating the distance between us in the time it took me to blink. I didn't feel the pressure of his hand around my neck at first, but I felt the pull as he yanked me forward and off my feet.
Severus loud shriek made my ears ring, but perhaps that was the lack of air as I dangled from his grip, my own hands clawing at his wrist as Loboda started shouting. I could just make out the guards forcing the older man to his knees at spearpoint through my quickly darkening periphery vision, and I could hear Alfhild as she cried out in pain. I couldn't see Canute at all.
Severus was seconds away from turning this man into ash, and my friends was moments away from being run through as my lungs spasmed from the lack of air.
I was terrified, not for myself, but what would happen if I didn't get control of the situation, and it was this fear that allowed me to move. Fuck being a Slytherin, now was the moment where I needed to be a Gryffindor. My nails had scratched deep into Styr's arm, but did nothing to ease his grip, so I eased mine. Hand dropping, my wand snapped into my palm and I pointed it at his gut. I didn't even have to say the words, far too familiar with the spell to even need too. With a single flick and a mental expelliarmus, Styr and I were blasted forcefully apart.
My back collided with the guard behind me as Styr was sent flying over the chairs and into the table. I felt hands grabbing at me, more shouting and blood spraying as Severus bit deep into one of those hands, giving me just enough time to get the next spell off. Stumbling from the sudden lack of support as the guard I had fallen on was blasted outside of the tent, I forced myself to stand even as my lungs seized and I coughed heavily, trying to just get some air.
Another blasting hex freed Loboda who took the opportunity to procure himself a spear which he threw at the man standing over Alfhild. The spear went through the fatty muscle tissue on the man's upper thigh and before he could do more than cry out, Canute collided with him from behind. There were several long seconds as chaos reigned, everyone scrambling for weapons and more guards were called.
Rushing forward, I pulled Alfhild to her feet, barely dodging out of the way as she threw her fist into the face of a guard who I had missed. She swiped his legs out from under him, taking his spear as he fell and tossed it to Canute as she tore the spear in the guard's leg free and used the butt of it to knock him out cold.
We stood in a tight circle with our backs to each other, somehow now near the center of the tent, though I didn't remember moving there, as the four guards left standing surrounded us with their spears. Several more guards rushed in and soon we were outnumbered two-to-one. Elder Ake was assisting Styr back to his feet, but his eyes were on me, wide and feverish as he took in the damage.
One guard made a desperate lunge, but a quick binding spell subdued him even as Severus launched himself at another that had drawn his arm back to throw his spear. The spear was quickly dropped in favor of trying to pry the angry little dragon from his face as he screamed in pain. Canute dodged a sloppy spear thrust, using his to sweep low and slice the blade across the back of the woman's leg as she fell off balance. She went down hard, hitting her head on the table, and didn't get back up. Behind me, I heard Loboda grunt, but I couldn't tell if it was in exertion or in pain, and I couldn't afford to look.
Outside, I could hear a shriek that rendered the tent near silent for a moment before everyone was moving once more. Another guard, a woman perhaps of age with Ragna, tried to grab me and I blinded her with a quick spell just as another, closer shriek could be heard. The whelps were coming, and this could not be good. I had to get a handle on the situation before they got here, or it could end with death. Whose death was still undetermined, but it certainly would not be mine.
"Enough!" Styr bellowed, silencing the shouting guards, and halting the others that had started to rush into the tent. The woman had crouched herself behind the bed, trembling and gripping the furs as she stared at us wide eyed. I hoped she hadn't caught a stray spell. Severus allowed himself to be shoved away from the man who he had absolutely shredded with his tiny talons and fluttered back to my shoulder. His claws tracked blood on my clothes, but I didn't care. I was beyond furious.
How dare he, how dare this insignificant magicless man lay his hands on me. "How dare you!" I hissed, wand still in hand as I pointed it right at him. If I had had the sword in my possession, I would have run him through, Magnar or not. "What gives you the right to think you can touch me?!"
"Enough!" He shouted again, and I knew our voices had to be carrying far outside the tent. The ambient noises of camp had ceased, I could hear nothing outside of what was happening in the tent. I wondered how many were listening, how many had abandoned their duties to eavesdrop on the Magnar's failed attempt to kill me.
"You're right," I sneered the words, standing from my crouched position and glaring down my nose at him like I had seen Snape do a hundred times. "This is enough. Explain yourself, Magnar, before I finish what you started!"
He scowled at me; his blue eyes boring into mine as he finally stood to his full height. Using the table for support, Styr roughly shook off Ake's weak and trembling grip, turning his glare to the Elder before returning it to me. His lip curled before he finally pushed himself from the table, waved the guards back to their posts, and limped over to retake his seat in his throne like chair. After a moment, as the other men shuffled back into place – some dragging out the man that no longer had a face along with the others wounded – I released the few I had body bound and set my hand on Loboda's arm to get him to stand down as well.
Loboda lowered the spear, but he didn't release it…I was grateful for that as well. Canute and Alfhild remained with their backs to us, gazes fixed on the exit incase anymore came through. I could practically taste the fear and anger that was thick in the air like a heady smoke. Hands trembling – in rage and possibly a little fear – I took a deep breath to steady myself and set my gaze upon Styr, refusing to blink or look away as he made himself as comfortable as a man in pain could.
This time, I waited for Styr to gesture to the chair across from him before I took my seat. Elder Ake took another next to mine, but Loboda didn't take the one that remained. Like Alfhild and Canute, he remained standing, choosing to stand at my shoulder like a guard – or angry bulldog – as the other two took up posts at the tent exit facing the guards that remained.
Just like before, Severus perched himself on the back of my chair, gaze fixed on the large man in front of us. The small dragon's anger was a palpable thing, and everyone in the room could feel it, not just me.
I raised my fingers to stroke along his neck and chest, but it did little to ease his anger. At least it helped ease mine though, and I could finally look at Styr without wanting to cast an unforgivable on him. The silence stretched between us as the guards fidgeted with each passing second. If I wanted to get this over with, I would have to at least get it started, but before I could do so, a loud commotion outside had all of us turning to the entrance of the tent.
Someone was shouting, a guard was hesitantly approaching the exit, Alfhild and Canute gripped their spears tighter, and I was just about to stand when the embodiment of fury burst into the tent, the size of a small horse and covered in bronze scales. Loki shrieked so loudly it was nearly deafening in the small space, his gleaming teeth on display as he bared his fangs and snarled.
Behind him, Romulus and Solar galloped into the tent with their awkward gate, fins erect and tails thrashing as their lips peeled back and they flanked their smaller brother. Their heads swayed, swinging from guards to my companions, to Elder Ake who had gone pale and looked more frail then I had ever seen him, to the still seated Magnar. They didn't know who the threat was, and I knew that that meant Loki would treat them all as a threat and I couldn't let that happen.
"Loki!" I called out, moving a few steps so the chair wasn't blocking me if I had to move quickly to shield everyone. We had never tested my barrier against dragon fire being used with a purpose against me before, and now I desperately wished I had. Loki was quick, and I feared that my regular barrier wouldn't hold against his wrath, but the stronger one took too long to cast. The bronze dragon hadn't even twitched at his name and I wondered if he was so furious as to not have even realized I had called him.
"Brothers!" I tried again, switching to my mother tongue as flames started to lick at Romulus' maw. Four heads snapped to look at me, Severus included as I held my hands out, palms up, to display nonaggression. "Peace, brothers. There is no fight here."
"Peace!" Solar hissed the word, but I couldn't tell if he was angry, or just sounding it out. "Humans hurt little sister!" Ah, it was anger then.
"Misunderstanding, brother," I replied, trying to be calm even as I waved at Alfhild and Canute to stand down. They lowered their spears reluctantly, but lower them they did, and some of the tension seemed to leave the dragons as the guards around us followed suit. They didn't lower them fully, still at the ready for an attack, but at least now not all the weapons were pointed at the angry scaled beasts.
Romulus tilted his head in that quizzical way of his when he didn't understand something and I rushed to clarify, taking advantage in the lull of hostility to calm them. "It was a mistake; they did not mean to attack me." A lie, and they knew it. They could no doubt smell it on me, and a curl of Loki's lip indicated that he was quickly losing patience with the situation. "They did not understand," I rectified, shifting to catch the bronze dragon's wondering attention. "I will correct, I will," I emphasized myself as I tried to glare the dragons into submission. Romulus and Solar shook like a dog, fins unruffling as they stood down…Loki did not. "Leave, I will correct."
Loki hissed at the words as I pointed to the exit. "Stay!" He argued, eyeing the armed guards and the seated Magnar behind me who was watching curiously. Elder Ake was nearly vibrating with energy beside me, but I couldn't tell if it was in excitement or fear.
"You will leave," Severus snapped at the younger dragon. "We will correct, you will leave!"
Loki's fins fluttered briefly, and for a moment it looked like he would listen, but then the moment passed, and I could only sigh in frustration. We all knew this day was coming, when Loki no longer deferred to Severus or myself. I just had hoped that that day was not today. Severus growled, low and deep in his belly, but for all of his anger that I could feel, he only sounded like a puffed-up kitten compared to the deeper bass rumble that poured from Loki's mouth like a monster that lived in children's nightmares.
The situation was slipping from my fingers and I had to put a stop to it before it turned into something that we couldn't come back from.
"Enough!" I barked the words, much like Styr had only a few minutes before. "Brothers, leave!" I pointed to the exit and Romulus and Solar both ducked out quickly. "Loki stay," I continued when his growl started to crest higher when his brothers were no longer flanking him. "Loki stay and guard, Severus stay and guard. I will correct." I emphasized myself again, tapping my chest as I glowered at the bronze dragon.
The two dragons turned to each other, growling lowly before finally the rumbling died off and their fins started to relax once more. Loki was a curious creature. He hated to be told what to do, but he hated being without purpose more. I hoped that giving him a purpose would override his need to burn anyone or anything that dared to tell him what to do. Luckily, it seemed to have worked…this time.
With a nod of my head, I retook my seat, breathing a sigh of relief as the guards seemed to finally stand down. Severus hissed several unflattering things that I pretended not to hear as the tension in the tent seemed to return to a full simmer instead of a raging boil that it was seconds ago. I expected Loki to plant himself at the exit, like he did in our own tent, between the two guards near Alfhild and Canute, so I was understandably surprised when I felt the bronze dragon brush up against my leg as he planted himself next to me, glaring his gold eyes straight at the Magnar and Elder Ake as if trying to figure out how best to cook them.
His head was higher than mine when I was seated, and I felt dwarfed between him and Loboda, but I also felt protected. For the first time since I entered the Magnar's tent, I could finally breathe.
"You asked me here to talk," I said softly, switching back to the Old Tongue while keeping my voice low and calm even though I wanted nothing more than to curse and rage at Styr. My throat hurt and the earlier shouting had only made it worse. I would need the bruise balm I had made for Ida to keep the swelling down. "So…talk."
Styr flicked his gaze to the dragon perched behind one of my shoulders, to Loboda who stood behind the other, to Loki who sat like a bronze statue, to Elder Ake who still hadn't looked away from me, to my two guards who held their weapons at the ready, and to his guards which now numbered only four once more. When it finally returned to me, he appeared calmer, almost like he had come to some sort of decision or found something he had been looking for.
"Before I get started on you, witch," he began, speaking through gritted teeth as his blue eyes flickered behind me once more. "Elder Loboda, you and those young hunters with you stand accused of defying your Magnar. There will be –"
"No," I interrupted quickly, still keeping my tone low as I crossed my legs and leaned back. I was trying to appear nonchalant, but the fingers wrapped around the handle of my wand were white with how hard I gripped it. Loki was a searing heat along my right side, and I took comfort from his presence even if it made me nervous to have the most volatile of dragons in a situation such as this.
"No?" Styr blinked, his nose twitching as his eyes returned to me once more. I had to give him his due, that was for certain. The man had balls, to appear to be almost unbothered by the two dragons that were both staring at him like he was to be their next meal.
I could hear Loboda shifting behind me, the soft creak of wood as his grip tightened. My heart swelled for this man, who was willing to stand against his own Magnar to protect me. The least I could do was try and keep him and my friends from getting killed in the process.
"No," I repeated, flicking my elaborate but messy braids to the side as Severus leaned forward, one taloned wing settling on my shoulder as his hot breath hit my ear. He whispered to me, trying to ease my lion away and replace it with a snake once more, but I was done being a snake. I was done with the deceptions and roundabout way of speaking. I was done with the acting and vailed threats. I was just done. The only way to get my point across was to be blunt and unmoving.
"Magnar Keld assigned Loboda to me as my keeper, my guide, and my protector," my words came gently despite the natural grating and harshness of their language. I was far too tired, and my throat hurt far too much to even make an attempt at the low throat guttural stops. English really was a much gentler language, almost musical in comparison. Loki's eyes flicked between myself and the man before me and I briefly wondered how much of the Old Tongue he understood, but I couldn't dwell on that now. Right now, I had to make certain that we were safe, for tonight and all other nights.
"I will not have him punished for doing as he was bid. Besides, Loboda is one of mine now, as are the two hunters," I finished, my harsh glare driving my point home. I couldn't believe that Styr didn't know who they were, but if it was at all possible, I was going to keep it that way. It was harder to punish them if he didn't know their names.
"Now, Styr," I drawled his name out, not giving him the chance to refute what I had just declared. If Loboda, Canute, or Alfhild had any objections, they didn't voice them and for that I was grateful. "Get to your point. I have things I need to be doing. Why am I here?"
"Silence, witch!" One of the guards hissed, flinching at Loki's low rumble, only to be immediately waved back by Styr himself. My eyes hadn't left his, and I didn't even bother to turn and look at the one who had spoken. He was hardly a threat now that I knew to expect an attack. That was if he could get through my friends, Severus, and Loki first.
"What did you do?" Styr finally asked, his words so similar to Loboda's own when he had asked me that very same thing many days ago. When I did nothing more than raise my brow, he continued. "Ever since your visit, I have…there's been, I've been –"
"Unlucky?" I asked with a quirk of my lips. "Having a terrible string of unfortunate events?" I supplied again, watching as his pale face went more and more red with each word.
"It was you!" He said with a snarl, leaning forward suddenly only to wince and shift his weight. "What did you do?!"
"I did exactly as I said I would," I replied, keeping my voice in a low hiss as Elder Ake's eyes alit next to me. The older man was shifting in his chair as if he was an excited toddler. "I warned you, Styr. I told you exactly what I would do if you refused to come to a truce."
"Beseeched your gods, you mean," Styr practically spit the words he sneered so hard. Even now, I could tell that he truly didn't believe that he had been cursed, that I had cursed him, that foreign gods would even deign to do so to a Magnar of all things. "Whatever it was you have done, whatever curse you have placed, you will lift it."
"I can't," I replied, though the 'I won't' went unsaid but definitely not unheard. I felt a hot bolt of vindictive glee rush into my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was mine or Severus'. "Like I said, I am very favored by my gods," I ignored Styr's derisive scoff at the words and continued despite his expression of disbelief. "The only ones who can lift the curse is my gods, and the only way they will do that is if I ask them too...and Styr," I leaned in closer even as he glared at me with his cold blue eyes. "I will never ask them too."
The rage that crossed his face was terrifying, and it took every inch of my Gryffindor courage not to shrink from it.
"You dare –"
"No! You dared!" I interrupted him again, gripping my knees tightly to keep from standing and pacing. I needed to seem in control, pacing erratically was not in control. "I tried to come to a truce, I tried to warn you what would happen if you didn't, and you mocked me. I told you exactly what would happen, Styr. This is because of your own actions, not because of mine!"
Styr looked moments away from lunging at me from his chair and trying to strangle me again, but before I could decide on what spell to use to defend myself, Elder Ake interrupted. "What, exactly, did your gods curse our Magnar with?"
Our eyes finally left each other to glance over at the old man. Loki sat between us, but the man had simply moved his chair to be closer to the Magnar and so he could see me instead. If the dragon intimidated him, he didn't let it show. Instead, he looked entirely intrigued by the idea of gods actually interfering in something as trivial as a grudge of all things.
I leaned back, my shoulders pulling awkwardly with the new chest brace until I corrected my slouching posture. Severus' tiny puffs of breath against my ear a comfort as the silence drew on. Outside, I could the other dragons, no doubt camping outside the tent and thoroughly displeased. The low rumbling voices of the Thenns drifted in through the open doorway and I used it to ground myself, thinking of the cold and harsh tundra, the ice cave that I had briefly called home, the ice shelf camp before we had lost Neve, Freya, Selene, and Gemini's other half. It helped, but only just.
"My gods are not kind," I started, my eyes sliding behind the Magnar to the woman who was perhaps of age with Percy. She had finally removed herself from her hiding place behind the edge of the bed and retook her seat. Her hands were trembling still, as she gripped the bear fur and clutched it to herself. I felt pity for her then and wondered why she was even here. "But they are powerful, and they are not without mercy."
I summoned two mugs from where they had spilled onto the floor, and conjured water into them before handing one to Styr. He took it reluctantly, looking at it as if it held some sort of great secret …or was poisoned. Smirking softly, I took a sip from mine, drinking slowly so he could see that it wasn't poisoned. After a moment he took a sip as well, his brows scrunching and nose twitching before he took another, longer drink.
Once he was finished, I continued. "Understand, Styr, you threatened my family. Nothing is more sacred to a witch then her family," I still used my word for it, not quite certain how it would translate if I tried to use theirs. "So, I beseeched them to punish you, you and yours, in a nonlethal but definitely noticeable way."
The silence that descended upon the tent was nearly palpable. Loki began to look bored at the proceedings and shifted so he could lay down, his head twisting to lay next to my feet but still keep an eye on Styr and Elder Ake. My fingers twitched, and I had to fight the urge to coo and pet him. It wouldn't have been appreciated, by present company and Loki himself. Instead, I took another drink.
"You Styr, Magnar of the Thenns, have been cursed with a lifetime of inconvenience. Bad fortune, you could say. Everything you work towards, everything you want, will be taken from you by one small way or another," I spoke softly as my green-purple eyes bore into his blue ones. I tried not to let the guilt eat at me as I continued, Severus' underlying anger helping with that. "A lifetime of ill-fortune and bad luck, for you and your children."
The woman on the bed flinched, and I fought not to flinch with her. Her hand smoothed down the bear fur blanket and rested on her swollen stomach. I fought not to throw up at the realization that she was pregnant, most likely with Styr's child. I wondered just how many women out there now carried his spawn…how many mothers did I just condemn to watch their children go through life and achieve nothing.
"My children?" Styr asked, the word stilted and almost hissed as I brought my attention back to him.
"It isn't lethal," I said quickly, taking another sip of water for my suddenly parched throat. Guilt always did make me thirsty. "You don't have to worry about that, you and your children are not in any real danger of dying, not from the curse."
"My children?!" He spoke again, near shouting the word now. His hands were bunched upon his thighs so tightly I could see the white of his knuckles. They shook, just slightly…but they shook.
"Yes," I said softly, trying to let Severus' anger and vindictive glee burn out the guilt and pity I felt for this man that I…didn't hate, but certainly disliked. It didn't work. "You and seven generations after you. For the seven dragons you threatened to take from me!" I tried to sound stern, tried to sound angry and justified and…and I didn't. I sounded like none of those things. I almost sounded sorry. "I warned you," I said instead, turning my gaze down to the crown of Loki's horns. Tears were threatening to build, and I hated myself in that moment. "I told you what would happen, warned you of what would happen!"
The words rang out in the silence of the tent, the guards flinching and gripping their spears tighter, Loboda shifted his weight, the young woman on the bed crying softly as she cradled her stomach. I was so angry…at Styr and Ake for forcing me into this position, at the woman for letting herself fall pregnant and involving her child, at Severus for not coming up with a better solution, at myself for letting it come to this. If I had just been stronger, if I had just been more stern and certain, I could have prevented this. I could have prevented all of this. But here I was…and here we were.
"I'm sorry," I said in a whisper, and I meant it. It was as I thought earlier, Styr and his people had absolutely no defense against me. And there was nothing, not a single thing, holding me back from taking everything from them. I could have killed him so easily. I could have stripped him of all of his accomplishments, humiliated him before his people, executed him and his followers, and no one, no one, would have been able to stop me. We were never on even playing fields…we weren't even playing the same game. And it seemed as though Styr was finally beginning to see that.
I brought my eyes up to his and forced myself not to flinch at the hurt and anger that ravaged his. "Styr…I am sorry. But I warned you."
"Remove it," he whispered, sounding both stern and desperate.
"I can't," I replied, trying to sound anything but pathetic as my eyes started to water. It wasn't fair, what I had done to him. I should have stopped at just him, should have only cursed him…but I let my magic get carried away. I let myself be drawn into that seductive darkness and tempted to do more. I didn't know how to fix what I had done.
"Please," he begged, his eyes sliding to the woman who was sobbing quietly behind him. "Please remove it!"
"I can't," my voice cracked over the word, clutching the near empty mug so tight my fingers ached. I didn't know how to undo what I had done…wasn't even entirely certain I wanted too. And that thought made me feel awful, but it was too late to take back what I had done. The thought did little to comfort me, nearly nothing at all.
"I am a witch," I spoke softly, slowly, conjuring more water for my very parched throat. "I am a Thenn, the marks prove so," I gestured to my face, smiling softly as I felt Loboda's hand fall onto my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "But above all else, Styr, I am a free woman. I will not be bartered, traded, or sold. I will not be demeaned, talked down to, or treated like a child. I will not be caged or confined. I am, and have always been, free to come and go as I please. You will leave me and mine out of this…whatever it is you have in your head, your plans, ambitions, what have you. Or I will beseech my gods again. And the next time, I know they will not be so forgiving."
"Forgiving?" Styr spit the word as if it had somehow offended him. "You call this forgiving?!"
"Yes," I said, again speaking softly, not letting my voice raise as he glared at me. "You and your children, and their children, and so on, are cursed with minor inconveniences. Trust me when I tell you this, Styr…it could have been so much worse." With that, I stood, draining the last of the water in my mug and then walking over to set it at the table. Loki stood as well, but he remained in place, glancing between me and the exit. I knew he wanted to be the last to leave.
I almost felt what could be called affection and gratitude trying to overcome the crushing guilt that was weighing on me. He had come so far, and despite his earlier interruptions, he had been not only well behaved, but quite useful in keeping violence at bay for the rest of the meeting. He deserved the best organs for dinner tonight, and I would ensure he received them.
I moved around the two seated men, stopping briefly to run my hand up Loki's neck, curling my fingers under the base of a horn, and smiling softly when he not only allowed it, but also purred in contentment. It was rare indeed when he allowed such affections, and it made my heart swell.
"For what it is worth, Styr," I said, stopping at the exit as Alfhild and Canute left before me. Loboda had plastered himself to my side, and I could finally hear Loki starting to move towards us. "I truly am sorry."
Styr didn't reply as I finally left the tent. Our horses were where we had left them, and the dragons had perched themselves in the nearby trees. We mounted up quietly, nobody saying a word as we made our way back to camp, the whelps following behind. Severus' light weight on my shoulder was comforting, but not enough to eat away the guilt that was left after the meeting.
I tried to tell myself that Styr deserved it. Tried to tell myself that this was the only way to keep my family safe. Tried to tell myself that there had been no other choice. But the guilt would not leave me, even as I crawled into bed and let the warm heat of Severus ease my mind and heart and let the weight of Ophelia on my legs remind me that it had been necessary.
The guilt was almost enough to hide that tiny bit of vindictive glee that had stuck through that whole encounter, and as I finally started to nod off into sleep, I realized that the feeling had always been coming not from Severus, but from me.
