Flora flinched when she saw Freddyâs hand rising from her side. It almost seemed like the young woman was reaching out to touch her, but not really her â more like a phantom of her, a harsh shell of who she once was. For a split second, Flora wanted to reach back. To grab her hand. To weep and mourn and just breathe with the one person she had missed most over all those years, the one person whom she had cried out for in the dead of night when there was no one else to hear her.
But she didnât. Instead, she stepped back sharply and let out a slow, shaky breath, eyes piercing into Freddyâs.
âYou didnât find me, though, Freddy. You abandoned me,â she hissed, knowing exactly how cruel she was being. âHow can you even say you missed me?â
Freddy couldnât help the recoil, as if burned as if that last shred of hope that things were okay was seared and mashed into the ground. It was small, impossibly so, that recoil but the Slytherin felt that bubble of pain in her belly and she wanted to cry. She cried so little-- it was childish, weak. But in the face of someone once so adored and grieved, she couldnât help how it welled up and spilled down her pale cheeks, cutting through a little dust, and over the curve of long-forgotten nicks before settling in the corner of her mouth, pooling and hanging.Â
âI didnât abandon you!â there was a sharp pop of pain in her throat, as the words clawed through. âI tried to find you, I didnât ... I thought you were gone, we all did,â everyone did, but not Freddy, not for a longtime. Her family had long given her up for dead before Freddy ever did, it took a beating to keep her from going back out. âHow can you think I didnât? How can you think I wouldnât miss you every day, but I saw you, I tried to reach you. I couldnât. I was weak,â she closed in on herself.
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She asked the elves to give her some time alone in the kitchens, her heartbroken face an argument strong enough that they didnât protest or remind her of breakfast, they just snapped out of the room, one by one until she was all alone. Thatâs when she started crying; at first small sobs, but the more she cried, the more she considered spending months without seeing her siblings, losing precious time with Henrietta, the harder she cried, her whole frame shaking.
A noise at the corner of the kitchen startled her, one of the students was there. Usually she had no problem with students trespassing in the kitchen, she wanted this space to be welcoming and comfortable for all. But being caught in a moment she thought was just hers made her uncomfortable. No, it made her angry.
âYou shouldnât be here!â she snapped at Freddy, holding tightly to one of the prep counters, her knuckles slowly turning white, âYou are not supposed to be here.â
@freddyhax
Freddy was hungry and so tired, she had spent most of the day by the lake-- iced over while she threw rocks at a very annoyed squid who threw them back. At least she thought it was annoyed, maybe it was playing catch with her? It didnât matter because the stupid thing beaned her in the head with some unerring aim. So she had decided to go the Hospital Wing, to make eyes at Holden before remembering again-- Holden was gone. With Hen in tow, and Freddy was feeling so... despondent, usually, itâd be her and Hen making trouble. Usually. But things were no longer âusualâ so instead Freddy went hunting.
Rather, scavenging would be a better word for it.. She was starving, and no-one ever prevented her from raiding the kitchens and taking whatever she could get her hands on. Sweets, meat pies, tea, bread, fruit, her eyes often bigger than her stomach. So finding herself being yelled at, by Miss Hufflepuff no less had her scurrying back, eyes wide.
âIâm sorry,â her hands were raised, one holding a meat pie, âI just, I was hungry, and I didnât... I can usually be down here.â
In that moment, Flora only wanted to do two things: one, throw up, and two, scream.
No. No.Â
âNoâŚâ
The word was breathless, tinged with something she couldnât describe. It was cold, brutal, and cut sharper than the knife that had just fallen onto the cobblestone below them, and the sound that it made - both the knife and the word - echoed uncomfortably in the space between them.Â
Flora didnât know what to think - was she even thinking? Images of the past raced through her minds - her father, the woods, the villageâŚ
Freddy.
Suddenly, time seemed to stop, and in an instant she was able to identify the singular emotion that hung in her throat in that brief moment of recollection.
Hate.
âClearly Iâm notâŚFredricka.â
The young warrior hadnât frozen in years, she could remember clearly each time her head stopped, each time she flinched and was on the precipice of falling apart. But here, in the face of someone she long ago made a shaky horrible peace with their death, was standing clear as day, hale and so very alive. Freddyâs let out a tiny chocked noise before standing, uncomfortable, not knowing what to do exactly. Hug? Cry? Instead she picked up her knife, and her bread and tried to steady her anxious breaths and quickening heart.Â
âIâm... what, how are you alive? I thought, I didnât think-- I tried to find you,â she hadnât gotten far, sheâd gotten whipped for it. She was trapped in Haxon, while Flora was gone, trapped watching everyone she knew slowly fall apart at the seams, and until Hogwarts had been content with allowing it as well. Sewing up the missing bits and standing true to Haxon because itâs all she ever had since Flora was taken. âI... I missed you,â it was painful, it was a stark breath, and Freddyâs eyes filled, and it was so... strange, âI canât believe this.â This strange beat in her chest, the throbbing of her throat, it made her ill. He hands lifted wanting to touch, to grasp Floraâs hands within her own and assure herself that Flora was really her and this wasnât some waking daydream.Â
âItâs probably for the best anyway, I forgot that Iâm not going home for the Holidays.â She sighed, letting Freddy lean against her. She did miss her motherâs company, but Melanie was in Paris which seemed too far a journey. She had promised to visit in February when she returned to England. That seemed worlds away. âJust donât let everyone at home take advantage of you, youâre still only seventeen, the holidays should be fun, not a chore.â It was only Melanie that had ever given Lucinda the holidays. âOh, I donât think you need to be a princess, youâre much better than someone whose only job is to look good and get married. Iâm just saying if you want to look beautiful, Iâm happy to help.â Freddyâs affection filled Lucindaâs heart, âMiss. Haxon, I believe youâre beginning to like me.â She teased, feeling for once that she wasnât quite so alone. âSorry I yelled at you.â She said, resting her head on top of Freddyâs. âAnd donât worry, I wonât be going back to London any time soon.â
Freddy waved her hang at Lucinda, a small note of relaxation in her shoulders, tension slowly melting away in the curled up warmth of Luciâs body. âItâs not a chore... its just duty, things I have to do.â She was supposed to lead Haxon, she was born for a reason, and she loved her village, her forests, her cove, her druid family and her comrades. âI donât know...â Freddy wasnât a pretty girl, she was hard and boyish, softness was not something found in her face, nor in her manner. The small warrior flushed and pouted, âOf course I like you,â she looked away, âI donât hate you, youâve been... kind.â her skin was warm, not crawling and sticky like when people got too close. She coiled a little closer, a small bud of happiness in her chest. âGood, I like you here." a smile on her face, gentle and true, no smirk or reckless grin, or a bloodthristy beam.
Freddyâs perch was among her favorite, just above the courtyard, one of the many pillars that provided a small rafter like nest above the ground. She could watch everyone around the courtyard, quietly practicing magic, studying, flirting, playing, laughing. It was like being involved without being involved at all. So the young Slytherin took a knife to a chunk of wood, carefully nicking and peeling back the wood to find the core, shavings were falling and Freddy leaned forward to grab some food from the folded up kercheif. She hadnât expected the chunk of bread to fall, and she jumped down, the knife still in her hand as she flicked it out to stab the chunk. Turning she dropped it, eyes blinking-- because this was a phantom, this was magic and her stomach began to turn over.Â
âF-Flora?â it was a chocked off noise, one she hadnât heard from her voice in a long while. âYouâre dead,â it was a statement, a little bit of peace she made around the seventh kill during a battle, when she realized Flora was never going to come back, and the anger lost somewhere between the fourth or fifth switch on her shoulders.Â
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âI was hurt. I was fighting, as I had done for ten years and I was injured, I couldnât fight anymore and for a long while I couldnât even walk.â he stops, giving her time to digest the story before continuing. âNot so exciting, right?â he grinned, shaking his head, âWhat sort of mead are you talking about? Even the most gruesome vikings will stop for good mead.â
Freddy blinked before nodding, âI know a few people like that,â her mind drew to Antony, who lost his arm during a battle and instead tended to the sheep, wielding a large staff as if it were a blade. âI donât know what Iâd do if I couldnât walk...â lie down and die probably. The Slytherin girl laughed, âOh I donât know, I donât like getting drunk, I do idiotic things when I drink. I suppose next time they come calling we can just drop caskets of mead on their heads, itâll knock them out.â she couldnât help but grin at the mental image.
He watched her move, admittedly not too concerned with how this fight might turn out for him. But her determination was something to certainly be admired, and would most likely serve her well in lifeâ even if at times he knew if could also very possibly be her downfall. He snorted again in amusement at her words before saying. âIâm not going to say youâre wrong.â She was certainly light on her feet, but he still hadnât made a move to attack as he went to dodge. If she was trying to get close that most likely meant he shouldnât let her. Devoiding her of her preferred fighting style was step one. He could possibly just keep distance and dodging and she if she wore down, but he wasnât sure of what her stamina was like. In an actual battle he would have advanced by now, but sparring one on one was more of a mindâs game than outright mob fighting was.
Freddy couldnât help smirking at him, âIâm wrong quite a bit, but not about that,â she could admit that fault. She was always getting in over her head, always doing the wrong thing over the better option, but sheâd never shied from anything. He kept moving around, and it was annoying, he was too strong for that, but she could keep up. Even still there was a pert smile on her face because this was fun, this was comfortable-- a blade in hand and an opponent, something to overcome. Something familiar in Hogwarts where she felt woefully out of place quite often. She false lunged with her blade, hoping to catch him off his step, and her knife was still a warm happy weight in her hand. âYouâre quirk arenât ya, most people might not think that cause youâre built like a wall.â
Lucinda sighed, âParents can be trickyâŚsometimes they try. I hope whatever flaws your mother has are caused by the difficult circumstances sheâs had to raise you in.â She put a hand on Freddyâs shoulder. âIf youâd like to come home with me during some of the holidays Iâm sure you could.â If home was really that dangerous, Lucinda would much rather have Freddy safe and sound. âNow, thatâs not true, you take care of your wand donât you? You donât have to look nice, though, if you donât want to. But, Iâm sure thereâs a little girl in there somewhere that wants to be a princess.â Lucinda teased, âI donât mind helping you when you feel that.â Lucinda put an arm around Freddy, âI am proud, but vanity is something entirely different. I actuallyâŚâ She grimaced remembering a frequent punishment, âI was very proud of my hair as a child. I even stole a comb onceâŚbut I got it cut off more frequently for misbehaving.â Melanie loved running her fingers through Lucindaâs hair, and had taken a lot of joy in its growing as long as it was now. âI think one thing Iâve learned at Hogwarts is that beauty isnât a measure of value. You wouldnât know it among those idiots in London.â
Freddy could only offer Lucinda a small smile, she didnât want to think to much about her Mother, how she was raised, what home was like. Haxon was no heaven, but sometimes Freddy felt as though she crawled from hell and felt bad she was cloistered safely away behind stone walls. So Freddy shook her head, âIâm expected home, Winter is hard, Iâve learned a lot, I have to go back and help where I can. Iâd... want to, but I canât.â She could raise stone walls and fix their battlements with a swipe of her wand, she could stave off attack quickly. Freddyâs first reason was to keep Haxon alive and safe. âI doubt it, very much, maybe a warrior princess or something, but hardly a princess,â it couldnât be, princesses were soft, naive, needing of being saved and Freddy could never be any of those things. But even still, she leaned into Lucindaâs touch, a small hum escaping her lips. âThatâs stupid, your hair is pretty. Youâre beautiful and smart, everyone else is dumb,â the young woman was stalwart in this new fact. â Hogwarts is amazing,â she didnât want to go back, it was good here, "if they're so dumb in London don't go back."
Freddy had decided to brave the winter months, mounting the horse she had stabled for the fall she rode a week to Angelsey, for Haxon, for home. It was cold, snowing but the few warming charms she learned, and fire spells cleared the roads. Freddy feared little, as she stopped in small inns, bartering for housing in villages and farms.Â
Riding over the snow-capped hills she let out a long steady breath as she moved into the large forest. She felt eyes on her back, dark and bright. The Druids that protected Haxon to the West had come to meet the lone mixed daughter of their line. Her cold shaking breath was the only sound, before a figure stepped from the trees.
âBodhmall,â she greeted with a tilted head, the woman, whose eyes were a startling blue smiled back at her, âhow fares the village?â
âIt fares as well as it can Fredrika,â the Slytherin winced at her full name, âmany battles have been won on the beaches, your mother yet lives, as do your comrades.â
âThatâs good,â Freddy rode closer and looked down at the woman, âhow fares the tribe of my father.â
âTwo more born in the Fall, no deaths since you left.â the woman nodded before stepping back into the shadows, âWelcome home youngling.â then she was gone, and Freddy snorted at her auntâs dramatics.Â
2.
The village was as she remembered, of good size, the forgeâs smoke reaching into the sky, the large stone hall in the center kept as well as the masonry could. Her own home stood at the front of the village, and the tower that reached up that doubled as a watchtower overlooking the rocky hill that led to the cove that they called home. Freddy was here, sitting upon the watchtower, snow covering her shoulders a bow on her lap as she watched for boats and scanned the horizon of the cliffs for any sneaky bastards.
She had spent the last two days going to her traps, remarking and fixing the pitfalls and nets, the spiked rocks and falling logs that would befall those who would try to sneak by.Â
The third day was here, nose red and fingertips cold despite her gloves Â
Freddy let out a long steady breath and caught sight of Mavis walking up from the beach, a net with fish and Luthorâs father laughing beside her. Mavis looked up to her, then looked away, and that felt colder than any snowmelt in her hair.
3.
Freddy ducked, the ends of her hair slicing off and her eyes grew wide. She threw her arm up, the metal guards catching a falling blade and grunted as the metal chipped but held. The Slytherin let out a gruff gasp as the figure tackling her down, her head smacking down onto the packed snow and dirt ground.
Above her was long dark braids, a smug smile, as hands went to her throat and Freddy blinked. She swung her arm, âNot again. Not again. Not again.â before wrestling her attacker onto their back, her hands going to their throat as she began to throttle. Hands went to her shoulders, but her mind was working a mile-a-minute. Choke them until they cannot breathe, until their eyes grow dark, slice their throat. She flicked her knife, the one Salazar gifted, with the beautiful handle and so comfortable in her hand.
She held it to the beating jugular, as the screams around her continued, yells of her name, it was distracting.Â
Freddy met the eyes, the eyes of one who would take her again, but not again. Never again.Â
Those muddy grey-brown eyes.
Exactly like hers.
The jerk sliced open the edge of Mavisâs collarbone, a line of red appearing as Freddy stepped off and back. Her arm was already aching, the metal guard was chipped by the force of the blade, and Mavis rubbed her neck.Â
âYou stupid girl do you mean to kill me!â Freddy fell onto her ass as Mavis raised her hand, balling into a fist and smashing into her cheek. The crack was dull, spiderwebs of fractures and another fist was brought to her temple, she smacked the ground. âYou stupid fucking girl.â Freddy curled onto her side, as a kick aimed for her ribs, âGet up, you want to fight, get the fuck up.â The Slytherin struggled to her feet as an axe was handed to her. âAgain girl, again.â as she
Freddy began to hyperventilate as she held the axe and spat back out blood.
She let out a howling war-cry as their blades met.
4.Â
âFreddy, get up, câmon,â Jon whispered to her, she was slumped against a tree, the snow melting on her back ass he stared at her bloody hands. âWe have to go back. We have to tell your Mom.â
âFuck Mavis.â
âFreddy please--â
âFuck Mavis of Haxon,â she spat, standing, hands going to her side, her ribs no doubt broke, her chest no doubt several colors. They were just walking, Freddy hadnât expected the Vikings creeping through their woods. Jon said that it was becoming much more often. For Freddy it was the first time that she had used magic in battle. The ground was scorched, burned mutilated bodies scattering the clearing.
âFreddy he was here.â
âStop Jon,â she whirled on him, âheâs gone now. Mavis doesnât need to know a goddamn thing.â
âShe would want to know that the fucker who ra--â Freddy grasped his shirt and shoved him against a tree, her ribs grinding and whining. That manâs eyes, his cold blue eyes, his lean muscled figure as he was over her, moving and she could feel him.
Until she saw nothing. Felt nothing.
He had escaped, and Freddy had no idea.Â
âThe only way he lived,â Freddy rattled Jon, âis if Mavis let him go,â she snarled, âtell me that Mavis let him live.â
âFreddy--â
âTell me you didnât know.â
âHe was going to steal you.â Freddy tugged away, a snarl on her crumbling face, âWe lost so many, we couldnât lose you too, not to him slitting your throat or you being taken like Flora was. Mavis let him live, so you could too. I told her to kill him, I tried to follow him, but Mavis forbid it. A deal made and kept. I wanted to kill him.â
The young woman walked away.Â
5.
Freddy left the battlefield, blood covering her leathers and metal whispers behind her back at the carnage left behind. Scorched bodies from her wand, gore, and brains left on sand, more than she had killed before. Magic the warriors whispered, blessed, cursed. Blood was drying, her lips were cracked and her eyes seemed to pinwheel with more grey than brown.
Mavis smiled and patted her cheek.
It burned.
6.Â
Freddy looked at herself, it was strange, to see bruises.Â
To see the strange concaved look about her ribs that Holden could heal in a second. The ragged look to her hair Luci would tut after. The bruises that Hen would be horrified by.Â
Freddy hadnât seen such bruises since ... well since she left Haxon.
She didnât hear the door to her bedroom open, and she felt cold hands cover her shoulders.
âFreddy,â her motherâs voice was sharp, like iron, âwhat are you doing?â
âWhy?â
âHmm?â
âWhy do you hurt me?â Godric Gryffindor said no-one should hurt her, that it wasnât right to get hurt to learn. âWhy did you let him go? Why didnât I know he was alive? Why is Flora gone? Why is Luthor dead?â
âLife does not go as we plan Freddy,â hands smoothed over the ragged ends of her hair, Mavis herself cut with a blade in practice, the reddened slit on her throat mocking that intense duel, âSacrifices must be made.â The young woman reached for her eyes.
âWhy canât I cry?â
âBecause you arenât weak.â Mavisâ fingers were roughed as they carded through her dark locks, âYou will never be weak. You hurt, and sacrifice because it makes you stronger.â
â...stronger?â Freddy turned while her eyes remained steady and tears still unshed. âYou think youâre making me strong?â her fingers flexed, her pinky was surely broken. The woman reached and fingered her wand, then before she realized, Mavis was on the ground, frozen and unblinking. âYouâre right, I am stronger.â
Freddy turned to pack, shoving her clothes into a bag and fastening her cloak around her shoulders.Â
âIâll be back,â she shrugged into the warmth of the cloak, it still smelled like the warm draft of the Slytherin dorms, that wet scent from the Lake, and the prickle of magic, âwhen you are done trying to make me stronger.â
7.
âJon!â Freddy called, he was whispering with one of the girls, blonde and pretty, soft, no hard edges or shorn away weaknesses-- nothing like her.Â
Good. He deserved that.
âFreddy... are you going back?â
âYes, long journey ahead. Take care of Haxon for me.â
âWhen will you be back?â
âIâll be back.â
âWhen?â
âSoon.â
She rode from the village, her cheek burning, her ribs splitting, bruises marching up her arms and back, streaking down her breasts and blood drying on her fingertips. Haxon would be fine. Sheâll be back when the snows melt and the summer comes, when a year without this has ended. When blood was drying in her hair and the only smiles she received were after her ribs were concaved and bruises littered her body.Â
A figure watched from the trees and crept into the village, buzzing with gossip of the disappeared warrior-girl, slipping into the window of her good-sisterâs home, to find the woman plank stiff on the ground. A stick of power releasing her.
âFreddy has gone Mavis,â Dodhmall leaned over hre with a teasing grin, âyou fucking fool, I told you that pushing your daughter would break her.â
Mavis shook her head, âNo, it made her stronger,â she rubbed her neck, âtwice.â
âWhat?â
âSteel,â her finger ran over the cut, âmagic. Iâve done everything I can, sheâll be back, and Freddy would never break. My daughter is iron.â
âYouâre cruel Mavis of Haxon,â Dodhmall leaned back on her haunches, before standing, âI should have taken that girl years ago.â Then the druid was gone, leaving Mavis, cold in her empty home, and a bedroom that smelled of blood and thunderstorms, and refused to cry.Â
Lucinda smiled back at her, âYour mother sounds like she cares a lot about you.â Though she didnât know Freddyâs history, she hoped that was the case. âItâs not too difficult. If youâd like I can help you find some things youâd like, but I donât think thereâs anything wrong with the way youâre dressed now.â Lucinda blushed at being called perfect. It was everything she wanted to be. âI think many of the nuns that raised me would say I am a vain girl.â They wouldnât be wrong. âI have no qualms about teaching a girl. You have as much right as anyone else to know how to read.âÂ
Freddyâs smile was weak, âI suppose, she cares deeply for me,â it was hard to tell sometimes, she knew since she was young that Mavis never wanted to be a mother, but Freddy strived to make her proud nonetheless. âI donât really know, nice things get ruined, Iâm not good about taking care of things,â with a few exceptions, her horse, her weapons, her wand. âWhatâs wrong with being proud? Nuns are stupid, all those cloistered away people are out of touch with reality,â she snorted at the memory of one of the priests come to the village and looking so ill at ease on a horse that a wind spooked him and he fell. It was sad. âI promise to be the best student youâve got,â she smiled, wide and excited, âI learn quickly, and I wonât waste any of your time.â
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âI am sure that it is,â Abraxas agreed quietly, âhowever I donât need you to go hunting for me, Iâve brought plenty of clothes with me and lots of furs. Iâm more than capable of enchanting my clothes to keep more warm.â He paused and shrugged. âThere is a difference,â he replied with a laugh, âyou are not quite fully grown and therefore arenât an adult. I am fully grown and therefore an adult. That is exactly the difference. Carpets and matts are both a form of furniture absolutely.â Pausing for a second, he quirked an eyebrow curiously, âYouâve never flown?â he was shocked, âIs that not a class they offer here?â
Freddy shrugged, âAlright thatâs fine, just trying to be friendly or something. People keep saying I have to be nicer and less...â she thought, âbitey.â She had been told, several times, that playing with weapons and climbing in rafters was not approved in Hogwarts, and that challenging people to fights was frowned upon. âI am fully grown, Iâm 17, an adult, I have a kill count,â why were people convinced she was some child, just because she lacked height didnât make her any less adult, she crossed her arms over her chest, âThe difference is how fancy you wanna be about it,â there was no swaying her opinion and this was a silly argument. âIâm supposed to learn next year, I have a lot of catching up to do, Iâve never been formally taught... anything.â she offered a quirked smile. âSo no flying, yet,â she couldnât help but think that it would quickly become her favorite thing in the world, âbut I canât wait.â
âIâm going to have to spend a fortune on furs to remain warm in what is perhaps the coldest place Iâve visited since Moscow,â he paused for a second and rubbed his hands together to try and warm them. âMats are smaller than carpets, that is the main difference.â He paused for a second and laughed. âOutside of Egypt and the region surrounding the dead sea there is less Flying Carpets, as you moved north brooms become the prevalent method of magical flight.â He paused for a second and laughed. âWell, either way, I think Iâm going to head inside.â
âIf you want I could hunt in the forest, winter hunting is much more fun than in the summer, and get you some nice furs. Obviously for a barter or something. I donât do things for free.â Freddy grew up hunting, foraging and doing so around the forests of Hogwarts was relaxing for her, the twang of a boy or setting of traps. âThen there isnât much of a difference. Iâm smaller than the other people around me, doesnât make me any less of a people,â she grinned, âtherefore, carpet, mat, same potato different color.â Freddy swung her arms behind her head, âIâve never flown myself, I rode a horse to Hogwarts, I want to learn to fly but Iâve not gotten the chance. I donât have a broom, or a mat or a winged horse. I think youâll like the castle, itâs amazing, Iâve never seen anything like it. But then again this is the farthest Iâve ever been from home.â
He only gave an amused little smirk at her words, rather more focusing on where her body might go at the moment than any sound that came out of it. Still, he snorted when she proclaimed her to have the biggest cock in Hogwarts. But he waited to answer until heâd parried her attack and stepped away, much faster on his feet than he looked. Gunnarr hadnât been named the greatest raider and warrior in his village for nothing. But he didnât retaliate yet, still curious to see what it was that Freddy brought to the table. âI only hope all the other boys donâr get jealous.â
He was big, he was fast, he was a cocky walking mountain, she could see why he was so arrogant and still very alive. Freddy frowned but held her ground as she circled him, her sword tapping the ground, trying to figure his movements and her strategy. His reach was long, he was surely stronger than her, but was he faster. âI hope they get jealous, boys are stupid and arrogant and dumb. They only care about cocks and getting them wet.â she darted under his arm, letting her sword rise to catch his probably strike before flicking her hand out for a knife strapped to her belt. Stabbing close and neat was always an excellent idea.
Lucinda saw her fingers go to her hair and wondered if Freddy wasnât a bit more girlish than she seemed. âWell if you want me to braid your hair and dress you up I wouldnât object.â She saw the doubt in her eyes and sighed, âI know Iâm not perfect, and that my way is not always the best one. That being said, I hope you can believe me when I say that you have many good qualities.â Her mind flitted to James who seemed determined to be self deprecating. She could see Freddyâs mind working and hoped it was in her favor. âItâs not difficult to get the hang of it. â She said, back to reading, âItâs really about practice, which makes it frustrating, but Iâm sure youâll be able to handle it. Itâs nothing compared to what youâve already been through.â Lucinda smiled, âYouâre very clever, Iâm sure youâll do well. And when you start to feel anxious just come find me and Iâll help you through it.â Lucinda laughed, âWell you must start by tolerating Mr. Arnorson. He is different from the invaders you have met.â
Freddy smiled, âMy Mother used to braid my hair and brush it out when I was a girl, and I would wear dresses on holidays, but I donât know how dressed up you would consider it.â their village was rich in farming, in cattle, they were the first line of defense for Holyhead, but that didnât mean gold, which meant that everything she owned was rough-spun and âniceâ was a hard concept until she came to Hogwarts and saw silks and dresses and beautiful armors, furs, and jewelry. âYou seem perfect sometimes... but maybe itâs because Iâm just so...â the woman waved her hand, churlish, uncultured, came to find âbut I like you, even when youâre angered at me for tracking in mud and getting into fights.â Freddy had a very different life she had quickly learned, and Hogwarts was still hard to acclimate to and she was suspicious of it in the way only she could be. Trust was a hard notion. âI tried when I was taking lessons, but I donât think they were happy about teaching a girl, but my mother has a lot of sway, after all, we could just one day not fight in the invaders and let them overrun,â not that they would, but it was quite the threat that Freddy used when ti came to mouthy nobles who rode through their village. She wasnât afraid to threaten them, they needed to leave Haxon alone or at least offer aide. âFine, Iâll tolerate the blonde bear man, I wonât try and kill him. But Iâm going to keep fighting him, I need the practice while Iâm here. Tts fun and cannot get rusty and let one of those stupid Vikings take my head or tote me off.â
âNo-â Holden was almost at lost for words, almost. He was getting increasingly worried, and not for Freddyâs friendship with his sister, but for the girl herself. âHogwarts will not allow anyone to kill you, I can assure you of that. Nevertheless, life is not without accidents if you are not careful. Should trouble finds you, then, please come find me. I will do my best to help, that is all.âÂ
âI have been told that,â she was still unsure that it wasnât true, a place that no-one died and that it was relatively safe was odd. âI think youâll have your hands full, I find myself in trouble often. My comrades from back home say itâs a bit of a curse, I always find myself in hot water for reason or another,â her Mother, Mavis, said it was her high spirit and magic that made her so unruly, but Freddy was unsure. âI donât mean to, but it seems to happen.â she couldnât ever seem to back down.Â
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Thatâs what got through to her? Techniques to gut people? âSword. But, I wasnât half bad with a bow back in my day. But, I left it all in the past.â looking down at her, he tried to imagine what sort of village she came through, a formidable warrior? Sure, she had the spunk but she was so young and tiny. âI believe the most important thing to know is how to quickly defuse a situation so you donât need to kill anyone.â
âWhy?â Freddy blinked up at him, why would anyone who wasnât grey and ancient just stop fighting. âYouâre not that old? Iâm not as good with a bow, but I prefer getting in close.â she struggled with the patience of being an archer, it was a failing she needed to fix. ââDefuse the situation?â Like when someone comes to raid your home you go âHey maybe could you not rape and pillage, we have a spot of mead and talk it outâ while they start swinging axes. Thatâs just silly.â
âMaybe later,â he said instead of actually doing so. âWouldnât you rather focus on killing me for now?â Half a grin was on his lips, still amused by the scrap of human in front of him. His relaxed stance quickly turned into one of readiness as he began to circle her. She hadnât struck yet, but he figured he would let her first. Or at least try and goad her into doing so. Part of him wondered if thatâs what she was attempting with her own teasing words. But he only laughed before saying, âSo then what does your sword say about you? That youâre hiding an enormous one?â
âI donât need to focus on killing you, I can beat you with both my eye missing and no-sleep,â she watched as he circled her, her sword drawn as she began to spin it gently, keeping limber and moving-- a small moving target was hard to kill. She knew that. âYes it does.â she took a step forward with a grin, âThe biggest cock in Hogwarts,â she stabbed out one-handed with her blade, aiming for his wirst and moving her feet to get to his side. Sheâd stab him and itâd be easy.Â