Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 11: A ship is raided…

"We were halfway through the trip along the coast of Labrador when they struck. They came in the night, gliding silently over an unnaturally calm ocean, using the fog as cover. They were upon us before we could even fathom what was happening. They had us at their mercy before we could even react. Before that day, I had only read the odd news article about their cunning ferocity, but having experienced it I now I know no written account can do justice to their admittedly superb skill at brutality. It was… a humbling experience."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Nymphadora Black was completely and utterly content. Sharing her bunk with the girl now sleeping gently cuddled up against her with her head lain on her shoulder and an arm lain across her stomach, here on this ship in the dead of night. Rilly was everything she could have wanted from a girl. Kind, gentle, loving and, best of all, willing to put up with her bullshit.

She grinned to herself: Rilly had a cracking pair of tits too.

The Kingfisher has made it to Resolution Island on very good time and now lay anchored in a secluded bay. The first day was spent checking the hull of the lower and orlop deck, which almost ended up with Rilly getting caught when Riggere almost knocked his foot against the hidden panel while doing the checks in her quarters. Thankfully, Nymphadora had managed to distract him just in time. The crew and passenger deck would be checked for tears and micro-leaks tomorrow, so it would be smooth sailing from here on, pun intended.

One thing she'd been quick to notice that it was however getting rather cold. The deck being below the waterline and the water having dropped in temperature meant that the warmth stones radiating magical heat from the now raised pedestal in the middle of her quarters saw a lot of use. Soon she'd have to have two or maybe all three concurrently to keep warm. The thick blanket and Rilly's nicely warm body helped a lot too, though.

If she had to be honest with herself, Nymphadora had come to rather enjoy this type of independent lifestyle. When her mum had sent her to this very ship to do 'odd-jobs', she had been furious. But that quickly faded once she had come into the rhythm of things and found that having responsibilities was oddly liberating. Being honest to herself, Nymphadora had been a sponge. She had been squandering her time on this Earth. Ergo, she had to admit it was good to get away from the mansion and mummy's money.

Of course, smuggling her girlfriend on board wasn't the smartest or the most selfless thing she had ever done, meaning she had likely pissed away whatever credits she had built up with the captain and crew of the ship when she was inevitably discovered… but hey, warm girl with a cracking pair of tits by her side made up for a lot, she supposed.

Unironically, Rilly was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She reached over to run a hand through some soft black hair. There was a sadness to Rilly as well as she had confided her family's troubles to her. She was part of a big family, loads of brothers and sisters. Her parents were supposedly good people, but still obsessed with regaining lost status. To that end, they strategically placed their children in service of larger, richer and more prestigious pure-blood houses. At the least, they could claim that their children 'were employed by a powerful family' without mentioning the detail that they were part of the serving staff. At best, one of them would bag one of the sons or daughters as a spouse. Rilly specifically mentioned a shotgun wedding in Alabama.

Hell, Regan, the middle sister, had been trying to put the moves on Draco whenever her cousin visited. Of course with Draco being Draco, he had been completely oblivious. She chuckled to herself: poor lad was in dire need of a clandestine top shag in the cloakroom, that much was obvious.

Rilly was different, however. She'd always been honest and open about how awful this all was. She genuinely enjoyed going out for rides with Nymphadora on her motorbike. Having deep conversations while sat on a bench at Hollingworth Lake Country Park after a long ride. Their first snog had been a surprise to the both of them, quickly followed by their second, third and fourth snog.

And now she was here, with her. In her bunk. Aboard a ship. Headed to Arctic waters.

What a life, man.

The subject of eloping had came up more than once, and she had given it little thought. But now that Nymphadora had a taste of working for a living and found it tasting surprisingly sweet, it opened up a whole lot of possibilities.

"Hm…" sounded the groggy voice of Rilly as she stirred slightly and found Nymphadora smiling at her. "What are you thinking about?"

Nymphadora smirked. "That you have a cracking pair of tits, mum. Go on, give us a snog."

A tired chuckle followed when Rilly shifted and draped her body over Nymphadora, pressing her softness on top of her. Their lips met, arms wrapped around each other while soft hairs tickled her skin. Nymphadora let her hands slide over Rilly's back to finally lay them to rest on her girl's behind.

Cracking arse too.

Everything about Rilly was cracking and well fit.

Rilly froze, raising her head. "Did you hear that?" she whispered. Nymphadora groaned inwardly. The girl was so scared of being caught that every creak and whisper would set her off.

"It's nothing," Nymphadora said, attempting to reclaim her girlfriend's mouth. "And we're not done shagging yet. Door's locked."

"Ssshhhh," Rilly hushed, raising her head to listen once more. All Nymphadora could hear was the water against the hull and the ever-present creaking of the wood. "Dori, could you go check the hallway?"

"You what?" Nymphadora blinked. "Are you mental?"

"For me?" Rilly asked in the sweetest possible voice.

Nymphadora sighed heavily and kissed her on the nose. "You're lucky your tits are so fantastic and your arse is to die for, yeah?"

A shiver went through her body when she threw off the duvet and the cold air hit the entirety of her nude body, followed by a curse and a hiss when her bare feet touched the cold wooden boards. Wanting nothing more than to jump back into bed to give Rilly such a right royal seeing to it would make her toes curl, Nymphadora snatched the master key from her desk and swiftly unlocked the door, getting ready to slam it shut and lock it again once she had confirmed that the hallway running the length of the lower deck was completely empty.

Problem was, it turned out the hallway was not completely empty.

Though her eyes were now perfectly adjusted to the dark, Nymphadora wondered just what the hell she was seeing as she peeked through the crack of the door. At the end of the corridor stood a man. A tall man. A muscular man wearing some sort of armour and a horned helmet. He was huge, almost tall enough to reach the ceiling. Nobody on board the ship had that kind of frame. He had his back turned to her and seemed to be looking around some of the crates. Immediately, Nymphadora silently shut the door and knelt to peek through the keyhole, just in time to see the man turn around.

He had a huge axe in his hand and walked that distinct body-builder walk as dictated by his massive muscular bulk. Her eyes grew wide as she realized the man was steadily walking towards her quarters.

As swiftly and silently as she could, she moved back to the bed and opened the hidden hatch. With a yelp that sounded way too loud for Nymphadora's taste, she pulled Rilly off the bed and rolled her into the secret compartment. Nymphadora swiftly followed, just managing to grab the handle and shut the compartment right before the door swung open. Nymphadora swiftly clamped a hand around Rilly's mouth, using her other hand to shush her as the two lied perfectly still in the utterly cramped compartment, never meant for two people.

With her hand still clamped around Rilly's month, she could feel her girl's breathing quickening when heavy footsteps entered the room. They stopped for a moment, then they started again. They moved to the desk, then to the hammock, then stopped right in front of the bed… and the compartment. Rilly let out a muffled sob while Nymphadora held her breath.

The man seemed to stand there for an eternity. Before the footsteps could be heard again, moving towards the door and out of the room. Nymphadora listened until she could no longer hear them before she finally dared to take another tug of air.

"Dori?" whispered Rilly while Nymphadora opened the hatch and dared to first look and then creep outside.

"We've been boarded," said Nymphadora, the words only now starting to weigh heavily on her soul. "I'm going to try to warn the captain. Stay inside the compartment, whatever happens."

She reached out and lay a hand on Rilly's cheek before gently kissing her. After locking eyes with her one more time and handing her another blanket to keep warm, Nymphadora silently closed the hatch and grabbed the nearest shirt and trousers. Barefoot and heart pounding in her chest, she moved barefoot and silently into the hallway. It was clear… for now at least. But there were Merlin knows how many boarders and three decks between her and the captain's quarters.

The lone Viking was up on the orlop deck, she could tell by the heavy footsteps above her. Nymphadora closed her eyes and plotted out a safe route to the captain's quarters: she had come to know the ship quite well and having looked for potential hiding spots for a stowaway helped a lot in this case. She knew there was a service-hatch to the orlop deck from cold-storage. That would be her way up without being seen. She made her way to cold storage, silently opened the door and hissed when the cold air hit her in the face. Moving around the ship barefoot helped with keeping silent, but it certainly didn't help traversing around the perishables in cold storage. Shivers went up her legs, feeling as if her toes were about to freeze off. The metal rungs of the ladder leading up to the service hatch being frozen and covered with icicles didn't help much either. Thankfully, the hatch moved silently and without much effort, depositing herself behind a few crates and out of sight.

While shivering, she squatted down unseen and looked around.

She didn't see the Viking, fortunately, but Nymphadora was exactly where she wanted to be. Above her was the loading shaft and another service ladder built into an indentation on the side. She could climb up to every deck above and leave the loading shaft through an off-loading door or another service hatch. From there it would be a straight run to the captain's quarters. Nymphadora held her breath once more when the Viking emerged from the corridor. She pressed her back against the crate as the Viking moved around the loading dock. He inspected the largest crate containing the aethero-whatsis device. It seemed like an eternity before the man started to move again. He walked into the other corridor, and when the footsteps started to fade, Nymphadora dared to breathe again.

After making sure the Viking was really gone for now, she silently climbed up one of the crates and grabbed the lower rungs, hoisting herself up and climbing all the way op to the passenger deck service hatch.

Nymphadora found herself stood with her back pressed against the side of the corridor, wand in hand trying to peek around corners to see if the path to the captain's quarters was clear. When she was about to make her move, she was startled to feel one hand clamp around her mouth and the other around her wrist with startling strength.

She was attempting to struggle, but the hands were so cold and strong that it was like struggling against a vice. "Do not scream," sounded a whisper with an Eastern European accent. Nymphadora relaxed somewhat and turned to see the ship's doctor stood next to her.

Of course, he'd be awake.

Big-mouth was a rather traditional vampire, pale skin, red eyes and jet-black hair, yet slightly overweight. He dressed as if he had just walked off the stage where a Victorian period piece had been performed, with a long billowing cloak, an old style suit and a bowler hat. Nymphadora nodded in relief and was swiftly released.

"Doctor," Nymphadora muttered when her mouth was released.

"We had the same idea," said the vampire. Together, the made their way to the captain's quarters, where they found themselves face to face with a freshly woken captain Kirk quickly enough.

"Boarders," Kirk grunted while lifting a sweater over his chest. "How many?"

"I saw just the one," said Nymphadora, nerves still in her throat.

"Same," said Big-Mouth. "He seems to be wandering about the ship."

"A scout," cursed Kirk. "Neo-Viking raiders never act alone. The rest must be on top. We must assume they've taken control of the wheelhouse. With any luck, this is only a raiding party of three trying to score some glory-points with their jarl."

"There are more of us than there are of them," said Nymphadora. "If we ring the ship's bell…"

"No," Kirk said swiftly. "That will have crew rushing out of their quarters with no idea what's going on. It'll be a panic and likely will get people killed. We'll have to be subtle about this. We'll wake some of the passengers on board this deck, form a small defense party and wake the rest of the crew."

"I know just the right people for the job," chuckled Nymphadora and held up the ship's master key which she had brought up from the lower deck. Using this key, they were able to open doors silently. The first one was the quarters of Bellatrix and Hermione, where they swiftly woke up both girls. Though it was understandable that being woken up and finding three people standing in their tiny dark room almost led to some screams and shouts until Nymphadora hissed at them to be quiet. As the two girls covered up their modesty underneath the duvet and a curious wasp came flying down from his carrier, Big-Mouth swiftly explained what was going on while Nymphadora and Kirk moved on to the cabin next door.

When the door was opened, they found Tahki was not alone. Far from it. Tahki was straddling another, a man quickly identified as Riggere, bucking her hips in a steady rhythm while rolling her head back and letting out rather impressive moans while Riggere held her sides. Nymphadora closed her eyes and sighed. "And, of course she's shagging someone in here…" she spoke with a whisper, attracting attention to her.

"What?!" Tahki exclaimed, causing both Kirk and Nymphadora to cringe. Tahki made a grab for a blanket to cover herself up. "Nymph, what the fuck?!"

"Quiet!" hissed Kirk, shutting the door behind him. "We've got boarders! We need to act. Clothe yourself."

It took Tahki a few moments to process this, before she took the duvet and wrapped it around her body as she went in search of clothes. This left Riggere to stand in the middle of the room with a rather sheepish expression on his face while covering his admittedly impressively sized embarrassment with a pillow. "Riggere," Kirk almost growled. "While I admit it turned out to be handy this time around, you and I will a little chat about you fraternizing with a passenger when this is over!"

"Yes, cap'n," stammered Riggere sheepishly. "Sorry, cap'n."

Nymphadora snorted just as Tahki was pulling a jumper over her head. "You really should change your name to Squatting Hoover."

"Fuck you, Nymph!"

"Not now!" Kirk hissed. "We have a serious situation on our hands. Ms Black, we will require your assistance."

Tahki nodded grimly.

Unbelievable. Scant five minutes ago, Tahki was in a warm bed having some very delicious mattress gymnastics and from one moment to the other, she was now nervously peering down the end of a corridor with her heart pounding in her throat while Nymph, the captain and the others were doing Christ knows what a deck below. Something about boarders, taking back the ship and she supposed to be keeping watch but not even knowing what the fucking hell she was supposed to watch for.

Right. Focus. Keep an eye out for anyone not supposed to be here and shout down when needed. Seemed simple enough.

Eyes focused on the corridor ahead of her while the ship creaked around her and the water outside splashed against the hull. This was much like that time she'd gotten herself trapped in a cave with a hibernating wendigo after falling down a hole back home in Montana when she'd been thirteen. Jesus fuck, she'd almost shit herself back then. For all her bravado, it had taken all her willpower not to sob and cry when she tried to sneak past the sleeping thing, it being mere feet away from her. She knew if it woke up, she'd be dead and eaten. She knew that if she would panic and break into a run, it would likely wake up, and she'd be dead and eaten. It had been the second most terrifying happening of her life and staring at an empty dark corridor on a ship far away from Montana would never compare.

She tried to calm herself and listened for movement coming ahead of her, but could hear nothing over the loudness of her own nervous panting. In fact, she noticed nothing out of the ordinary until she was grabbed by the scruff of her neck, hoisted up onto the air and was roughly thrown into the ground again. The wind now knocked out of her, Tahki rolled to her side and looked up.

Stood behind her was a woman. But not just any woman. Towering over her was an armoured behemoth of a woman, so tall that her head almost reached the ceiling. Jesus that would make her something like seven feet tall, Tahki concluded. Her armour was fur-lined, heavy boots underneath black fur trousers up to her waistline where they met a heavy brass mottled belt securing two heavy leather side-tassets. Her hands were gloved, but her torso was only protected by what would could only be described as a scalemail bikini. Her midriff was bare, showing off sculpted abs and her bare muscled left arm was adorned with runic tattoos. Around her shoulders she wore fur-lined pauldron armour and a long cloak. The monstrously tall Nordic woman had long blonde hair tied in braids and two blue orbs bore down balefully from under her helmet.

In her hand was a two-handed Norse axe. Which she was wielding effortlessly with one single hand.

Though this monster-woman was tall and muscular, there was a distinct feminine nobility about her and she moved with singular grace. Shame it she had no friendly intent.

Tahki crawled backwards, fumbling for her wand. Instantly, the woman reacted. The axe was raised to her side and started to glow slightly. Immediately, Tahki saw within her mind the path the arcing magic would take and realized she was right within its trajectory. She abandoned her plan and swiftly rolled to her side just as the Norse axe released a torrent of arcing lightning, bathing the corridor in a blue hue as it crackled across the floor, scorching the wood of the floor until it slammed into the wooden wall of the loading shaft. The magic was obviously meant to stun, but it would undoubtedly have hurt quite a lot.

Tahki was still panting as she was hoisted up again and found the shaft of the axe pressing much harder into her larynx than she would have liked.

"Don't do that again," growled the woman in accented English. The Neo-Viking woman raised Tahki further to look her in the eye. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt those blue eyes bore into her. "You… you knew what I was going to do before I would do it," she spoke, almost pondering.

"F-fuck you!" she stammered in between heavy gasps. That didn't even came out half as brave as it had sounded in her head.

The woman continued to study her. "You… you are a soothsayer!" she finally concluded. "A fine prize!"

Tahki found herself being thrown on the floor, her arms grabbed roughly. She realized her hands were being tied together. "LET GO OF ME, BITCH!" screamed Tahki, right before the woman slung her over her shoulder. She tried to struggle against her, but ended up accomplishing nothing as the woman started to walk towards the stairs leading to the upper deck no matter how much she got kicked in the sides.

"You have a warrior's heart," said the woman in a surprisingly soft voice. "But you lack the strength and ability."

Tahki kicked and screamed, hoping it would alert Nymph and the others below while being carried off to the upper deck.

Kirk was concerned.

Being hit by a roving band of Neo-Vikings was bad enough, but this felt distinctly off. Neo-vikings weren't usually this stealthy. They preferred the direct approach and liked to see ships try to flee from them when the dark sails of their drakkar longships appeared on the horizon. Their versatile sleek ships cleaved through the waves with alarming speed, could navigate equally well on rivers and the open seas while carrying enough Neo-Vikings for a full raiding party.

His best hope that a scout-ship had stumbled upon them, carrying three or four of them. The fact that a single one was prowling the ship gave credence to this theory. He had to assume the upper deck was compromised and the wheelhouse had been taken. That means at least three of his crew were being held captive above. If they managed to capture and overpower the one down-stairs, the Neo-Vikings would hopefully be open for a trade without casualties. If not… well, he preferred not to think too much upon that.

Copperhead and Irrena were up, while Hermione and Bellatrix stood vigil in the corridor, wands in hand. Chandra was oddly been nowhere to be found and Eleanor had been so medicated by a sleep draught that attempting to wake her had failed miserably. Riggere had just woken up Haema and Beodul when an angry and pained shout sounded from the messhall.

The gathered shared a look before running to the messhall in unison. They found their Neo-Viking there. And, apparently, the Neo-Viking had found the wasps. Four wasps who were not happy with being crudely woken up by an axe being put through their nest. The four wasps were buzzing around him while he impotently swung his axe around and Miss Black's pet wasp shot forward to join his brethren in the assault. As if taking turns, the wasps went into for the attack with inches long stingers unsheathed. The Viking has already received quite a few stings, leaving trails of blood running down his body and skin discoloured from the venom.

He was reminded not to pick a fight with an angry giant wasp. Let alone five of them.

The Neo-Viking turned the tide by using his axe to conjure up a massive flare of lightning. It crackled through the air, scorching wood of tables, the floor and the ceiling. The wasps scattered, regrouping near their friends as they went on the offensive. Copperhead went in first and was swiftly sent to the floor when the Viking's axe slammed into his skull. Though worried for his crewmember and friend, Kirk was actually relieved to hear a clang: his thick copper skull-plate had protected him from an axe straight to the brain.

His crew were all wizards, but they all lacked skill and experience using magic outside of those few spells they used to run the ship. Some of them were muggle-borns who had never received any formal magical education, others poor-folks whose families couldn't afford to let them go off to school or simply adventurous spirits whom had taken to a life on the seas at a very young age.

Such a stark difference between the skill-sets of Bellatrix Black and Hermione Granger, both talented and well-educated witches. Bellatrix moved with the grace of a cat, keeping her distance and bombarding the Neo-Viking with spells Kirk didn't even recognize: she must have won a lot of duels in school and translated those skills to real-life.

But then there was Hermione Granger, the former war-hero. There was not a shred of emotion on her face as she had strode straight to the front, eyes which held a pragmatic emptiness while her body moved as if battle was second nature to her. Her hands, and the wand held by them, moved through the air with the fluidity of water. The Neo-Viking roared and threw his heavy axe outward, a massive blast of lightning arcing from it with dazzling speed. The air in the room felt as if it was on fire, the magic ionizing the air. Hermione Granger didn't even flinch, her expression never changed. She raised her hand and a bubble formed around her. Bellatrix acted too, lending her magical strength to augment Hermione's protection.

The magical lightning collided against the bubble and, to everyone's surprise, it held. With one wave of her hand, Hermione seemed to pluck the lightning out of the air and returned it to sender. The Neo-Viking yelped and dove away just as it clipped him in the shoulder. Hermione impassionately followed it up with a stream of fire from her wand, apparently wanting to end the battle quickly and decisively. The fire scolded the screaming Viking's skin, just as the five wasps turned for another assault.

This Hermione Granger was a far cry from the somewhat quiet academic he had gotten to know her as. Instead, he was looking at a skilled warrior without mercy. If he was the one facing her, Kirk had no doubt that the girl would end his life swiftly without showing a shred of emotion or remorse. It was as if her humanity had simply… switched off.

Kirk could only wondered what had happened to Hermione to make her like this.

She looked about ready to finish the bloke off as he was once again surrounded by wasps stinging him. The other crew could simply looked on in stunned silence as the girl they had all gotten to know as a friendly recluse was about to mercilessly bring down a raging Neo-Viking berserker twice her size.

Until a shout came from behind them. Beodul came running into the hallway, far as his legs could carry him. "ANOTHER ONE!" he shouted. "ANOTHER ONE OF THAT SCABROUS LOT!" Behind him emerged a large blonde Neo-Viking woman, with an axe raised and a shout coming from the back of her throat. With one swift kick, Beodul was punted across the roam with a frightened scream and crashed against the side of the hull.

Hermione snapped her head to gauge the distance between her and the newcomer. But that was all the distraction the beleaguered Neo-Viking needed. Immediately, the man shot forward, a warcry on his lips. Before Hermione had a chance to react, a hammy fist collided with her jaw, the force of the blow enough to send her flying backwards off her feet. The Neo-Viking swung his axe and sent another bolt of lightning arching through the air. Haema screamed as she was knocked back into the kitchen from the impact, but unfortunately one of the poor wasps was right in the bolt's patch. The insect fell out of the air and to the ground, letting out a pained buzz as it lay there with legs and gossamer wings twitching.

By now, Hermione was back to her feet and she and Bellatrix engaged the Neo-Viking once more. That left the other one for him and his crew. Two of the remaining wasps changed target and flew towards the blonde monster-woman while Riggere and Nymphadora tried to put up a defense. Before he knew it, Irrena had already been picked up with one hand and thrown across the room. Old Engrim wasn't much help either, being grabbed by the back of the head and slammed face-first against a table. The poor old man was out of the fight and at least two of his teeth were out of his mouth.

Riggere tried to put up a feeble defense, but found himself wandless. Kirk did his best to shield his crewmate just as the woman let out a cry and brought her axe down upon his magical shield. Honestly, they weren't faring nearly as well as Hermione and Bellatrix were against the male Neo-Viking. If it weren't for the two wasps harassing the blonde Neo-Viking, they'd likely be unconscious on the floor already.

"CAPTAIN!" shouted Nymphadora. Turning towards her, he could see that she had opened the doorway leading to the loading shaft and realized what her plan was. Now if only that blonde axe-swinging monster woman would cooperate. He and Riggere both grabbed a chair and pushed against the Neo-Viking woman, who pushed back by holding her axe with both hands to put more power to her swings. The two wasps flew over his head and moved to sting the woman, breaking her resolve. Before she realized what was happening, there was a distinct lack of floor underneath her feet. With a yelp, the blonde woman tumbled down a full deck and crashed into the floor. Looking down the shaft, they saw the woman lain sprawled on the ground, apparently having hit her head against a crate.

"Both of you, head down there and secure her!" Kirk ordered and Nymphadora and Riggere moved to do so. Meanwhile, the male Neo-Viking let out a roar and barrelled towards the stairs leading to the upper decks, pushing past them with Hermione and Bellatrix in hot pursuit. Kirk, the two witches and the four wasps were the only ones still able to follow and fight. They pursued the Neo-Viking until they stood on the deck, the cold arctic air biting at their skin. The night was clear, the sea was calm and Kirk found that all his hopes were dashed.

"Stand down," he said quietly.

For before them stood at least twenty Neo-Vikings, heavily armed and armoured men and women, axe at the ready. And before the confines of the anchored Kingfisher, he counted at least twelve Drakkar longboats, all filled with yet more warriors. He exchanged glances with captured deck-crew, axes to their throats. This was a war party. They were outnumbered at least twenty to one. The armoured men and women, armed to the teeth, stood at the ready to put them to the blade with only the slightest provocation. And Kirk knew from experience that Neo-Vikings really didn't need much encouragement to start a fight.

It was over. Though Hermione still seemed ready to fight to the end, that same lack of emotion in her dead brown eyes, holding her wand tightly.

"Give it up," he said, grabbing her wrist. The girl snapped her head to face him.

"Too many," he said calmly. "You can't take them all. And even if we do manage to escape, we'll never outrun those Drakkar."

The girl glared at him. Angrily. Very angrily.

"Hermie," Bellatrix said softly. Humanity returned to Hermione as she allowed one of the Neo-Vikings to take her wand, though she was none too happy about it.

Hermione Granger was still looking for an escape route even when the entire crew and passengers were stripped of their wands and gathered on deck, fully surrounded by countless Neo-Vikings and their ships. Her jaw stung, to the point that it was on fire. There'd no doubt be quite a bruise for a few days. Not that that mattered.

So far, none of the Neo-Vikings had said a word, but she knew their reputation well enough. Either they'd be taken back to Thule to be ransomed back to their family or spend the rest of their lives as thralls. She, Bellatrix, Nymphadora and Tahki were all valuable, so their fate would be clear, but she did fear for all the others. So, she kept looking for options, even though she saw none at the moment. The four wasps were trapped in a magical bubble… perhaps if she found a way to free them…

The male Neo-Viking she had faced before was scorched and bruised. The blonde woman limping on deck hadn't fared much better. Hermione was half expecting the male glaring at her to want to even the score, but for some reason didn't make a move towards her. For the best, she would think, as a violent beating followed up by an even more violent rape wasn't an appealing prospect. No, something was up. There was a reason why all these Neo-Vikings stood there like statues.

She got her answer when a larger drakkar pulled along the side of the ship. It was black as night and, unlike the other drakkar, it had somewhat of a tent-like shelter built upon the aft section. Curious. But it became even more curious when the tent-flaps parted and a single person emerged. A black-cloaked and hooded figure was hoisting up on deck by two neo-vikings. What was revealed was an older woman, not quite a crone but not quite middle-aged any more either. She bore a staff adorned with skulls and her robes were adorned with bones of all kinds of animals… at least, Hermione hoped they were bones from animals. The old woman was tall and, when she removed her hood, revealed a regal countenance, intense blue eyes and wrinkled skin adorned with runic tattoos.

Her heart skipped a beat. Others had seen it too, judging by the gasps.

This was Queen Ealdwynn herself.

The queen whom had united the Neo-Viking clans so many decades ago and turned them into a singular force to be reckoned with. Conquerer of Iceland and Greenland, whom had almost toppled Norway itself. The founder and ruler of Thule, the most successful and bloodiest wizarding dictatorship since the days of Shogun Hanazono of Japan. Rightfully called the Scourge of Europe. Hermione doubted even Voldemort would have tried picking a fight with her and her subjects… at first at least.

What the bloody hell was she doing here, so far from her seat of power in Iceland?

The queen gave the two Neo-Vikings they had fought below a bemused look. "Well," she spoke in accented English. "They certainly did a number on you, Ragnar."

"Still fared better than she did," the Neo-Viking grinned at the limping blonde Neo-Viking woman, who in turn shot him a foul glare.

The entire deck was silent. All that could be heard was the sea below and the queen's footsteps on deck, augmented by the occasional sound of her staff slamming against the wood of the deck. Hermione could see in their faces that the crew was frightened. Even the normally so stoic Eleanor Snowbell seemed nervous, even if she was still somewhat dazed from whatever medication she was on. Oddly enough, Chandra was nowhere among the gathered crew. The only thing Hermione could conclude is that Chandra was hiding on the ship somewhere and this might led to an opportunity later.

"Ah," said the queen as she looked around the ship. "I have walked these very decks any many times before in my visions across many years. To finally stand here now."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Great. More divination. As if these Neo-Vikings could be any more savage.

"You are the ship's master," the queen said, stopping in front of Kirk.

"I stand and speak for the crew," said Kirk. "What do you want from us?"

"Ah," chuckled the queen. "Right to the point. That is a good question, is it not? What do I want from you? For now, I simply want to see this ship and its passengers with my own eyes."

It was then that the blonde Neo-Viking woman grabbed Tahki, whom had been hog-tied for some reason, and dragged the struggling girl over to her. Tahki yelped when being dropped to the deck. The queen looked from the blonde Neo-Viking to Tahki and back again. "Why do you bring me this girl?" the queen asked icily.

To Hermione's surprise, the blonde Neo-Viking actually seemed a tad nervous. "She is a soothsayer! She saw what was going to happen before I did it! She is valuable spoils!"

Oh, god. Ealdwynn was very much a proponent of the 'old magics' and held shamanistic rite and innate magical ability to the highest regard. If they were to learn that Tahki was a savant, she would become so valuable to them that she would opt to keep her at Thule rather than even ransoming her. Hermione would have to act now.

"Tahki is not spoils!" she said, daring to take a step forward. A hush went through the crew as the Neo-Vikings grasped their axes a little tighter. Queen Ealdwynn's head turned towards her, eyes shining with fire and fury.

"You can't just take her!" Bellatrix called out.

"Yeah, she's our family, you bint!" Nymphadora added.

"Quiet!" Kirk hissed.

But this was not the time for quiet. Hermione raised her chin. "Per the Treaty of Oslo, a treaty which you signed and swore by your own honour to uphold," she started, staring the queen down. "You have pledged not to suffer any citizen of a foreign nation to be taken to Thule as a thrall. For years you have claimed that the raids still taking place and the thralls still being taken were done by fringe-groups without your consent! Well, you're here now and it's happening right in front of your eyes. Is your word of honour worth so little?"

The queen's eyes shone with fury. But not directed towards Hermione, but rather… the blonde Neo-Viking. The tall woman seemed to freeze in her step.

The queen narrowed her eyes and knelt by the struggling girl. With a taloned, wrinkled hand, she grabbed Tahki's jaw and raised her head to look her in the eye. A smile formed, a smile that looked so out of place on her stern face. "Ah, yes. I've seen your face before," she chuckled. Then, she looked up at the large Viking woman. For the first time, that tall woman looked unsure of herself.

"Untie her," demanded the queen.

"But…"

"UNTIE HER!" the queen roared with a power the belied her frail body. A lightning bolt crackled in the sky and slammed into the sea only a few hundred meters away. For a moment, Hermione wondered if that was a coincidence or not. Whatever the cause, the tall Viking woman was cowed and started to untie her. The moment she was free, Tahki scrambled to her feet and quickly ran to her family.

The queen glared at her and spoke with a low, threatening voice. "Give me your axe," she demanded.

The tall woman froze, her eyes widening in horror. "N-no…"

"GIVE ME YOUR AXE!"

The woman took a deep breath and lay her axe across the flat of her palms. She slowly knelt in front of the queen, holding it out for her to take. With one swift motion, the elderly woman took the heavy axe with both hands, brought it to her side and swung the flat of the blade into the side of the large woman's helmet. After a resounding clang, the woman fell to the deck. Next to the old woman, the large viking man named Ragnar let out a massive laugh. The rest of the Neo-Vikings remained stoic and silent as the grave. One look from the queen silenced Ragnar as well.

"You have embarrassed me!" the old woman spat, addressing the fallen blonde Neo-Viking. "You allow yourself to be captured below deck, you lose sight of why we are here and your actions have led to me and your kinfolk being shamed in front of outsiders! I will no longer suffer you to stand by my side."

The queen swung the axe and sent it flying, skittering over the deck until it stopped right in front of Captain Kirk's feet. "KEEP HER!" the queen roared. "As the wronged party her fate is yours to decide, ship's master."

Well, that was an unexpected turn of events. Still, seeing Tahki was free for now was a good outcome.

The queen wasn't done yet. She took a step forward towards Hermione, who in turn raised her head while showing no weakness. For the moment, the queen studied her. Looking her in the eye before grabbing her chin.

"Your face I have seen many, many times in just as many visions. Yes… you're the one. The one who doesn't belong. The one who isn't truly part of Midgard," she said. Before she could even blink, a sharp cold steel dagger had been pressed against her throat. "I wonder. If I were to kill you here, would your soul even travel to Hel after death, or would it just fade out of existence?" the queen chuckled. "My, you are an interesting one."

Hermione breathed heavily as she stood frozen, the dagger pressing further into her skin. She could hear Bellatrix scream her name and, from the corner of her eye, saw some of the Vikings hold her in place.

"Girl," said the queen to Hermione. "I would gladly slit your throat from ear to ear without hesitation if I could have clearly seen the outcome. But I can not. Perhaps Alfheim will open to you. Perhaps it will not. But you will see with your own eyes, regardless. Curious, girl. You seem so genuine, for a mere reflection."

The queen withdrew the dagger and turned towards the side of the ship. "I am satisfied. We will return to Thule."

"What?" roared the Viking man named Ragnar. "You cannot be serious! Just like that? After travelling for weeks?! We came here to kill them!"

The queen gave that same intense glare again. "No. I came here to see with my own eyes. I am satisfied. We will leave them to continue their journey."

"SHE WILL BRING NÍÐHÖGGR DOWN UPON US ALL!" Ragnar roared. "SHE WILL HERALD THE NEXT RAGNARÖK! SHE WILL LET THROUGH THE DÖKKÁLFAR! LET US KILL HER! WE HAVE HER RIGHT HERE, AT OUR MERCY!"

"FOOL BOY!" the queen roared and pointed at the blonde Neo-Viking. "One more word and you'll end up banished just like her, stripped of your honour, your lands and your dignity! Do you want that, Ragnar?"

The man, anger still etched on his face, was cowed, at least for now, but held his axe with hands to tightly gripped that his knuckled turned pale white. For a moment, Hermione wondered if he would take a swing at his own queen.

"It is all far more complicated than you can ever understand, Ragnar," said the queen with a dismissive tone. "Even for a soothsayer of my skill, their future is clouded in wisps of darkness. Killing her will be more far dangerous than leaving her alive."

"How?!" demanded Ragnar, but was silenced once more.

"Too much of this ship is cloaked in shadows," spoke queen Ealdwynn, before she turned her gaze and stepped straight over to Eleanor. "And you. Let's not forget about you. There is no future with you alive in it."

Eleanor snorted wryly. "Tell me something I don't know," she spoke sarcastically. However, she never expected the queen to take her up on her offer.

"You will fade in the halls of your 'Hyperborea'," spoke queen Ealdwynn with an almost sadistic glee. "Frightened and alone."

Leaving Eleanor slightly shaken, she moved on to Nymphadora. And, of course, Nymphadora being Nymphadora, she had to be cheeky about it. "Gettin' a good look at me, ye mardy crone?"

The queen grinned toothily. "You have no idea what's hanging over your head. Or that of the whore you're hiding. I see… bleeding out on the ice. Sleipnir's unending cruelty. Pleading. Begging. The freezing cold claiming its prize."

"Yeah… right," Nymphadora rolled her eyes, trying to put a brave face on. Bellatrix was next. Her sweet Trix was frightened, but didn't show it. Hermione had known her long enough that she could tell from her dark eyes that she was absolutely terrified when the old crone looked her straight in the eye. Moreso when the queen threw her head back and let out a completely maniacal laugh. Hermione found this to be odd. The laugh didn't seem to match the personality of the queen from what she had seen of her. It was almost as if she was acting, or channelling something. In either case, the maniacal cackle struck a deep chord within her, something on the edge of remembrance was pushing against the impenetrable walls of sealed memories.

Ealdwynn ceased her cackling and turned to glare at her for a moment, while Hermione looked upon her with pleading yet defiant eyes. The queen addressed the Neo-Vikings holding her. "Make certain she sees… everything," she demanded.

What happened next would likely scar Hermione forever. The queen took the dagger from Bellatrix' belt. It was the cursed dagger she had bought back in the sixties and had picked up again from her room after moving forward in time. Bellatrix had it fastened to her belt as a fashion accessory these days, because it 'made her look cool'. If only she had left it in her cabin that night.

Queen Ealdwynn raised her hand and immediately Bellatrix was pressed against the deck by an unseen force while her sleeve was being slid up. The dagger, now enchanted by the queen, started dancing on her hand. The aged Ealdwynn bent over Bellatrix, pinning her to the ground. One taloned hand grabbed the side of her head and pressed it against the deck. Her other hand exposed the flesh of her arm. Though her girl kept a brave face on, at first, Hermione wasn't fooled: Trix was utterly terrified.

And when the tip of the dagger tip started to carve into struggling Bellatrix' exposed arm, Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach. There was nothing around her, no ship, no friends, no family, no Vikings. Only Trix. Being hurt by that evil witch, just as Hermione had been so many years ago.

"STOP!" Hermione demanded as two Vikings grabbed hold of her and forced her to her knees. A third Viking put a meaty hand on her head and forced her to keep watching. "STOP IT!" Around her, the crew started to shout and protest at the sight of Bellatrix being tortured and, within the sealed bubble, an angry Zipper was going mad with stinger fully extended. The Neo-Vikings silenced them swiftly with axes pressed against any transgressor's throat. Even so, Captain Kirk stood his ground.

"Queen Ealdwynn!" shouted the captain with a harsh tone. "She is a passenger under my protection! Stop this madness at once! If you need to make a statement, I step forward as ship's captain, but leave the girl be!"

"Brave, but unnecessary," said the queen, stopping her torture for but a moment. "She will live. But this needs to be done. This is the very reason I am here."

Bellatrix howled in pain when the cursed dagger carved into her skin, slicing patterns. Tear burst from Hermione's eyes as she kept struggling. God, she had never felt so useless and helpless. Bellatrix, the girl she loved, was being tortured right in front of her eyes and she there was nothing she could do about it.

"STOP! PLEASE STOP!" Hermione shouted and pleaded, struggling against the grasp of two of the vikings. "STOP HURTING HER!"

When the ordeal was over, Bellatrix lay on her back with tears in her eyes and blood pooling around her arm on the wooden deck. The queen released her retrieved the dagger. With horror, Hermione saw that the word 'PURE' had been roughly carved into Bellatrix' skin. In almost exactly the same spot as her own cursed wound had been carved, though much larger. Though her own wound had been placed with cruel yet oddly artistic calligraphy, what the queen had done was tantamount to butchery.

Now released, Hermione rushed over to her girl and cradled her softly, tears in her own eyes. Bellatrix clutched on to her, wailing softly. While holding her beloved, Hermione glared at the queen with absolute white-hot rage. "I hope you die," Hermione hissed with seething hatred on her voice. "Slowly, painfully and alone!"

The queen snorted. "You might just get your wish," she replied with a slight tilt of her head. "Hold on to that anger, girl. You're going to need it."

Something… changed. Deep within her. The entire ordeal had cracked something open in her mind. Memories once buried deeply, while still out of reach, felt closer than ever before. Her chest heaved as Bellatrix held her with one arm, holding out the bleeding wounded one as she trembled and cried. Poor Trix. So enthusiastic. So innocent. Hermione's eyes shot towards the queen once more. "She didn't deserve this…" Hermione growled. "SHE DIDN'T DESERVE THIS!"

The queen cocked her head slightly. "Yes. She does," was the simple reply, just as she slammed the tip of the cursed dagger into the wooden deck of the ship to leave it there. "You of all people should know that better than anyone, young one. An eye for an eye. A wound for a wound. Remember, girl. Remember."

Remember. Why did that make Hermione feel ill in the pit of her stomach.

"We are truly done here now," said Ealdwynn, motioning to her followers.

As the Neo-Vikings returned to their longboats and let the queen board first, Bellatrix was swiftly surrounded by family. The retreating Neo-Vikings paid them no further mind, thankfully. "Shit!" shouted Nymphadora. "What the bloody hell did she do that for?!"

"They're savages, Nymph!" Tahki pressed. "What more reason do they need?!"

"We need to get her down to sickbay," said Big-Mouth with his accented voice. "We'll see about treatment."

Hermione was helping the others hoist up the now shivering Bellatrix to carry her below deck, just as Eliam and Kirk watched the drakkar getting ready to set sail. Back to Thule waters, it seemed. They were going to leave the Kingfisher be.

"They're just… leaving? Without taking anything? Or anyone?" Eliam exclaimed. "What the hell just happened here?"

"I don't know," said Kirk. "But I'm not complaining."

The blonde Neo-Viking stood rather forlorn, looking at the drakkar longships as they were leaving… without her. Some of the crew surrounded her with wands out. No doubt she could have faced them easily without her axe, but she simply elected not to. As they were carrying Bellatrix below decks, Hermione took one last glance and briefly ruminated that the blonde Neo-Viking looked completely and utterly defeated.