The Prime Princess

A buzzing sound still echoed in her ears as Hermione lay on the cold ground of her cell. She couldn’t move a muscle in her body but her mind started to clear off. After a while she was able to open her eyes and take a look around.

Air was filled with cigarette smoke. Getting her eyes into focus, an image of a young man came into view. He was sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Long legs were clad with black slacks; a black silk shirt was half buttoned exposing a pale skin. Elegantly long fingers held a burning cig and brought it to full lips. Another stream of smoke rose above his head as he turned slightly to look at her.

Warm awareness flooded through Hermione but something cold crept inside her gut. Resemblance to Greek God was noticeable but the Gothic look left the appearance into shadows. Hollow cheeks, dark eyes glinting behind the veil of depressingly curled hair.

Getting a feel of her right hand, she concentrated on the wand around her wrist to slither into her palm. The Walker’s Mark tingled as the wand brushed past it and touched her fingers as it bended to straight. Anger warmed her insides, fueling her rage.

“I’m immune to your magic,” came a quiet and low voice after another puff of smoke. He finally looked at her in the eye and God was that look empty. Like there was no soul in him at all.

“Huh?” muffled Hermione and tried to raise her hand. “And ya are?”

“Paris,” he told and pushed himself off the wall to sit on crossed legs.

“Whose lapdog ya’re?” mocked Hermione to stall a bit as she worked her anger to get the feel back to her stunned body.

‘Hel has ‘im all to ‘erself,’ a heavy Scottish twang sounded in her head. Hermione froze and stared with big eyes at Paris who was Void Walker’s mate. The morbid look gave away, she should have known. But what the hell was the voice doing inside her head? Suddenly she burst into laughter like a madwoman.

Paris raised a black fine eyebrow and dragged another whiff out of his cig. Hermione sat up, still laughing as she twiddled with her dragon-headed wand.

“This is not real!” she grinned brightly at Paris and pushed a messy lock of hair out of her face. “I got a serious concussion in Quidditch, I’m actually in Hospital Wing and blacked out by brews Pomfrey has cooked up. Ha!” She had a look on her face like she had just discovered a free energy source and found a solution to world hunger.

“You may think whatever you want,” told Paris, fished out a half pack of cigarettes and plopped another one between his lips. “Maybe this is just your figment of imagination.” He took out a lighter and lit the cig.

“Of course it is! How else would you explain Snape in leather or you… Oh Blaise… I promised you something on that evening at Prefects Meeting and I keep my word,” her voice grew small as she looked at calm Paris getting a kick out of nicotine. He was like drug to her, soothing her just by sitting there and smoking. Angered heat inside her faded, an unfamiliar feeling of something pulling her strings also eased away and left her into haze of disorientation.

“Blaise… um Paris, why are you here?” she asked and twisted her wand back around her wrist. For now she didn’t need it, as he really was no threat.

“To wait… with you,” he told and from a deep well of shattered soul a dreamy look came over his pale face. Hermione gasped as his dark eyes lit like two orbs of liquid silver. “To remember what were you like before.” There was nothing menacing in his tone or in the look he cast over her but still it intrigued her.

“Before?” squeaked Hermione although she had wanted to sound casual. Paris made her feel all messed up and puzzled.

“I love you. We all do but different versions of you,” he said and turned his gaze up to ceiling to have another puff. He had told it in dead serious tone that it knocked her off balance as she had tried to stand up.

“Oh, yes, Hel and Branwen,” she mumbled and rubbed her sore knee she had hit when crashing down to floor. “So different of me!”

“Yes, but not just them. I have witnessed several Grangers getting killed before my eyes. And every time I see it, a bit of me dies with them but the stronger will Aristons grow. It’s all about life and death,” he went on in very disturbing morbidity. Hermione settled down with just sitting in front of him and listening.

“I love the essence of you. Always have and always will. I wish I could give my life to make you stronger, more resilient to death, to preserve the innocence.” He was talking about things Hermione had no idea but still they made her feel guilty and sorry.

“What will happen to Morrigan?” she dared to ask and flinched when his shiny eyes darkened back to azure and reflected all the sorrow in whole Universe. He was so beautiful, breathtaking and cursed with sadness for millenniums yet to come. For a second she wanted to cradle him and say that everything will be all right. But his fairytale had gone bad…

“Morgan? She will live through you,” he answered and a cloud of smoke hided his face for a moment.

“Oh,” she didn’t sound confident or positive about that. Already she had experienced an alien force making her do things she didn’t agree on, driving her out of character, creating a monster out of her…

“Do I even have a choice?” She really wasn’t ready to accept this insane offer even if it meant someone’s life. No emotion reflected in Paris’ face as he studied her with a glazed look.

“I suppose not. But the stunt in Infirmary made them think.”

“About what?” she was getting cautious as it came to Saga and General Lucianus. They looked like a nice commanding duo but behind the mask of kindness was something else that even Colonel Severiano and Wraith Walker couldn’t compete with.

“You can freeze time but that is not a gift of Rage Walker. It never was.” Paris inhaled a bittersweet huff of smoke and closed his eyes.

“So I’m no good for you, is that what you say?” A light shined in the darkness as Hermione hoped to get off the hook. “Can I go now?” A crooked smile crept to his full lips as he put out the cig and hauled himself off the floor.

“Yes,” he told and peeked at his wristwatch, “They serve lunch in the Mess Hall right now. So, lets get going.”
***
Mess Hall was filled with thousands of people that lived on board of enormous Mothership Atlantis. Hermione moved in line as she and Paris gathered food to their trays from counter. It was a bit strange for Hermione who was not used to the idea of self-service. Finally turning around she seek out an empty table far away in the other end of Hall.

“Who are they all?” she asked from Paris as they walked over to spotted table and navigated between hundreds of tables supporting at least ten seats.

“They’re rescued folks,” told Paris taking a lazy look around. “Mainly survivors from worlds Ancients have destroyed.”

“How many of them are here?” she wondered as she looked at people from different nations and races eating side by side. She recognized residents of Alfheim by the resemblance to Branwen. Many of them wore uniforms classifying them into different ranks and lines of work on the board of Atlantis.

They were the United Nations of Atlantis.

“About twelve million,” answered Paris and pulled out a chair for Hermione. “But there are more on Hiveships in hiding.” Sitting down at the side of wide bay window, she was still awing at the enormity of the citizens.

“Zion? Hel told it’s completely gone,” she was only able to whisper and still she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

“Seven thousand survived.” Paris started eating his meal but kept his dark eyes on her. Hermione was baffled as the realization sank in – this world fought for the right to live and Atlantis was its lifeboat at the deadly ocean of Universe. Sharks named as Ancients circled around them, waiting to strike.

Who was she to judge over them? But why her? Why it had to be her who was going to fight their war? Her world was not to be meant meddled with. She had no predisposition in war; she wasn’t the one dealing with madman Tom Riddle; she wasn’t the superwoman saving the Universe from dark forces! Hermione was just a spoiled brat wanting to get back home.

“Have you two cooled down already?” asked Time Walker and set her tray next to Paris. Sitting across Hermione, she glanced at Major and then at the spawn of Midgard. Paris nodded and Hermione turned her eyes at her own food in front of her.

“Next time warn technicians as you go smocking in places off limits. We had fire alarms going off on the bridge.”

“You should have done the bio-scan of the deck section and you’d found my telemetric ID chip beacon,” smirked Paris.

“You better be grateful we did that before sealing off the area and venting the air out,” snorted Saga. “Next time leave a channel open on your radio.”

“Or you could use your all-seeing foresight.”

Hermione hide her smirk as Paris stayed unnerved by Saga and continued to sip his latte. Marshal released her fork from plastic cover and dug into her mashed potatoes and roast beef. After several mouthfuls she washed it down with cold orange juice and set her eyes on Hermione.

“The bonding is scheduled to this afternoon,” announced Saga and took out her datapad to confirm the right time. Hermione stared at her and then Paris.

“What?!” shrieked Hermione and then covered her mouth with her hand as she had drawn attention of others. “What do you mean under ‘bonding’?”

Marshal raised a dark eyebrow and looked down on her gadget’s display.

“Right, you don’t know that. It’s like a bloodoath – sharing blood, mind and knowledge. That’s for your own good, cuz with the bonding you’ll receive everything you need to know within few moments that took Morgan five years. You are her successor and so it would be quite easy,” informed Saga and inserted a new entry to her datapad.

“Huh?” huffed Hermione and thought back a bit. She had seen Morrigan on her deathbed. That hadn’t been a nice view and it made her stomach lurch.

“You mean like my blood is her blood and her blood is mine?” she dared to ask and Saga nodded. “No.” A straight answer without further thinking.

“Hermione, don’t be stupid,” warned Saga and pointed her knife at her.

“I said ‘no’ and I mean it.”

Saga sneered and took a sip from her glass. Hermione stared at her with all the defiance she could muster in her confused mind. One was certain – she’d never let her blood to be mixed with someone sick and ill looking like Morrigan. Even if it were her own blood.

“You want the hard way then?” asked Saga and sat back. The look on Paris turned into grim, as he already knew what she was up to. “Desperate times need desperate measures.”

“Saga,” hissed Major loosing his cold self-assurance.

“Let me tell you a story. About eight months ago I saw a prediction of the doom of Atlantis. Ancients had come and sucked the life out of us and no one could have stood against them cuz our only Rage Walker was dying. As Ancients destroyed Atlantis, all Universes were open for their culling. Since then I have looked for the new Walker and I found you,” told Saga and was a bit proud. Hermione had listened to her and tried to find a crack in that story.

“And now it has come true – Morgan will die in few days and according to my prediction Ancients will sense the change in Ariston lineage and they will come. Legion after legion, nothing will hold them back anymore when the Rage Walker is gone. Middleverse will be wiped out. Among others, great realms of Midgard and Muspellsheim will be brought before their feet.”

“But you yourself told me that Midgard is off limits. According to that I shouldn’t know anything about your battles to save the blasted world!” There, she said it and in her mind it was a great argument.

“I confronted Elohim and they allowed me to bend the rule.”

“Ah-huh, so you did meddled with my world and with my life! What did you do?!” demanded Hermione and looked around as the crowd in Mess Hall grew quiet. Saga took a deep breath and pursed her lips for a while.

“Not much to begin with but I did go back in time. I wanted to give you the perfect fairytale life we never had. I thought it would be fair to you before we wreck it for you,” started Saga telling in soft and in somewhat loving tone. “I arranged things that Grangers would give you back for great ransom and you’d be raised as a true Ariston. It worked out flawlessly as I can see. You are bred well,” she gave her a judging look.

“After that I changed the lives of people most important to you. I saved the life of Severus, giving him the loving parents. Hm, Branwen is quite good at brewing strong lovepotions that go undetected,” amused Saga and took a bite of her beef.

“You mean that Snape used to be something depressing and cruel?” Hermione was astounded.

“Yeah. I also tried to save Lucius but I failed. I had to guide the midwife but she didn’t let me in her mind. I lost a good Black witch…” her eyes looked down on her tray and Hermione could tell Saga was still obsessing over her failure.

“Well, let me tell you about Lucius,” snorted Hermione, “He saw you after his fiancée’s death and figured you were a vision of his new love. So, I’ve been raised to be fit to be his wife… Oh my God! Draco was right! I’d be his stepmother!” Realization was a hard hit and blew her mind off. Paris snickered and soon was laughing out loud.

“Major,” hissed Saga and elbowed him. “Yes, as a Walker you’ll have a lifelong mate and considering Morgan’s choice you’d be paired up with the younger Malfoy.”

Hermione was gobsmacked. No way could she go near Draco or even think about… Argh, he was lower than weed!

“Dream on! I’ll never ever be with Draco! And I’ll prove it to ya!” spat Hermione and forced herself to eat her food until choking.

“Never say never, you know. And now back to bonding. I can force you to do it if you’re not willing,” said Saga after mulling over her words.

“You can’t force me to do anything!” Oh, she was so confident but Time Walker only sneered. Paris just grunted in disbelief and finished off his meal.

“Oh, but I can. I’ll start killing people you have ever cared for until you give in. And I do it under your own eyes, taking my time,” she said in hushing voice and the serious look on her face told she really enjoyed murdering others when needed.

“You wouldn’t!” gasped Hermione, “You’d be killing the same people you yourself care for!” What kind of person Saga was?!

“Who ever said I cared for anyone?”