Chapter Two
**Rakharo's POV**
Rakharo was riding for his life.
Blood Riders from a rival Khal had spotted him as he was seeking aid for his Khaleesi and what was left Khalasar, of his people and family.
He'd stayed because his mother was too weak to survive another Khal, and he'd seen something in this Khaleesi, a fire he had never seen before an ability to inspire and hope.
Then watching her walk into the flaming pyre of the late Khal Drogo, only to be reborn with three baby dragons, after that morning he became a true believer in her dream.
It had to be a sign from the Great Stallion that he had chosen correctly to stand with her.
Now he was praying to that same Great Stallion once again, and any other god out there for aid.
He'd already taken an arrow to the back and a slash across the chest, and was currently heading toward the rocky outcropping, the blood running down his tired body.
He knew he wouldn't make it back to his family, but he would not lead them toward his people and his Khaleesi, he just hoped his horse could keep pace.
At this time, a pillar of light was shooting across the cosmos, A prayer was heard, and the entity saw an opportunity to help.
So, it nudged, just a tiny bit, not much, but enough just maybe to save a life.
Rakharo was thrown from his horse the great pillar of light could be seen for hundreds of miles around struck right in front of him.
At this point, Rakharo was having trouble breathing let alone staying awake for much longer as his bruised and broken body lay on the ground bleeding.
What appeared before him was a young girl with a wild mane of hair similar to the tundra lions he had seen in his youth, and some kind of green monster that was so ugly it looked adorable, wearing some fluffy dress of a kind.
He was sure he had died and was seeing things, but he didn't imagine death would hurt so much.
His head was foggy, and sounds were coming in and out as his vision began to fade in and out.
what he saw confused him, he saw the young girl simply walk up and try to... talk to the blood riders, "what a fool, the poor girl", he thought to himself.
Then a moment later, as the Blood Riders tried attacking, all he saw was a flash of light.
And his world went dark.
---
When he awoke again, he was in some sort of bed, wearing only his pants, in some large tent.
That's when he heard a woman's voice.
"Winky, you mean to tell me you understand every language ever and can cast a charm of translation?"
The voice, which he found weird that he could perfectly understand now, sounded tired.
"Of course, Mistress. I'm an elf," the squeaky voice said, as if that explained everything.
The girl just huffed. "I give up on the absurdity of elf magic."
"Has Mistress found out what happened?" the squeaky voice asked.
"Unfortunately, I believe I know how we got here; I just don't know where here is exactly to be frank, and if I am correct, I don't believe we will be leaving any time soon, Winky, I'm so sorry I got us in this mess." there was a pause before the squeaky voice replied.
"Good riddance, I say, Mistress! Them bad wizards and witches at the Ministry would only hurt the good young Mistress, just like it did with Winky's last family. No! Winky will not lose another master to those bad, bad wizards. No, no, NO!"
At this point, Rakharo let the voices know he was awake by clearing his throat loudly.
"Right. We have a guest. Winky, can you please set out another place for our guest? I'm going to check on him and thank you Winky you are truly a wonderful friend." As the squeaky voice burst into tears.
Rakharo stopped paying attention to the conversation at this point and tried to get up from the bed, but he found his body was stuck to the mattress, try as hard as he could, he could not move a single inch.
He didn't see or feel any ropes of any kind holding him in place, so why couldn't he move? He was getting desperate.
He had heard and seen horrors of evil blood mages and their sorcery. He had seen what it had done to his Khal. He didn't want that same fate. He feared that his soul would be devoured by some hideous being and never be able to ride free in the great grasslands with the great Stallion.
The next person he saw actually made him pause in thought, it's the same girl from just before he'd passed out from the fall, how had she survived? *wait was she the evil witch a tiny pretty little girl with a lion's mane? *
"I do apologize for putting you in a magical body bind, but I needed you to be perfectly still while your body was healing." She paused briefly, "you see, while I know what to do in theory, I haven't had much practice, so I didn't wish for you to move around and reverse all my hard work to keep you alive, even if you didn't wish to." she said very quickly hardly taking a breath.
The girl's face reddened, obviously not used to seeing a man without a shirt on.
Rakharo took everything in about this odd young woman, she was of the same age as the Khalessi, her mannerisms were also similar, then there was, her fine tailored clothes, her walk her speech even at how clean she seemed and smelled. *Noble or rich* on the other hand he had never seen a pair of trousers on a woman hug a figure so well before, not that he was complaining about the view, but why have such obviously expensive cloths seemed strange to him, but he was not from Westeros, so what did he know. Wait had she come out of that pillar of light?
What truly troubled him was the fact that he couldn't move and was completely at some witch's mercy even if she was pleasing to the eyes.
He just hoped his death came quick, he did not want to linger, never moving on to the great plains after death.
He looked at the witch holding a stick toward his face, and he could see light appearing. His eyes grew ever wider in fear.
Pain never came in fact he felt all his fatigue fade away as she moved the stick around, truly a powerful witch.
After she was done waving her glowing stick over him, she smiled, a radiant smile that he could have sworn saw...was that a twinkle? "You're all healed up, if you promise not to attack me, you can come and have supper. But if you do try, I'll leave you outside with those friends of yours."
He felt his body come back under his control as the woman walked back out of the tents room.
The first thing he did was check his body.
Not a scratch, not a scar from the arrow, nothing *By the Stallion*, not even a sunburn from days under the sun.
"How long was I out?" he asked, fearing he may be too late to help his people.
"I would say you slept maybe an hour, just enough time for Winky and me to heal you, grab those poor horses, and make supper," he heard her reply as she poked her head back in a way that made him almost smile, it was so silly and childlike.
Healed, completely recaptured at least 6 horses running scared and made food, so quickly how was this possible?
His mind raced from the implication.
He stepped out of the room into the larger one, and his eyes bugged out.
Strange.... well, "things" (being the only way he knew to describe what he was seeing), were floating everywhere on their own. A rather large table sat in the middle of the room with a pile of food and jugs of assorted drink smelling and looking too good to pass up.
---
**Hermione's POV**
Hermione just watched as the young man started tearing into the food, not bothering to grab a plate or even sit down for that matter.
He just grabbed and started stuffing his face, and drinking deeply straight from the jug, *ignoring all her hard work of setting the table how rude* she thought, as she waved her wand and the plates, cups, and silverware put themselves away.
"Guess you were hungry," she said teasingly. He turned to look at her but was interrupted before he could speak.
Winky was outside once again, trying once again to feed "the Brutes" tied up outside as Winky called them.
*Bonk* *Bonk* *Bonk*
Rakharo followed her as she walked outside and watched a scene unfold, turning around in amazement the tent outside was small then inside? That didn't make any sense, poor Rakharo's mind was starting to fray at the edges.
Winky was bonking one of the captives on the head with a ladle, rather aggressively. "You will not impugn the Honor of my Mistress with those disgusting, vile, words about her chastity again! No soup for YOU!"
Winky bonked him once again, this time knocking him out cold, as she stalked away.
The other tied-up men cowered in fear at the cute little elf, as she marched in holding a pot filled with wonderful smelling stew of some sort.
Rakharo almost jumped back in fear as the little elf passed him with an angry look, muttering to herself "not good enough to even look upon my mistress," the words coming out in an angry hiss.
Hermione was just shaking her head, having learned never to get on the bad side of a house-elf, they knew how to hold on to grudges.
Hermione turned around to go back inside the tent when the man, Rakharo, gently grabbed her arm.
In less than a blink of the eye he found her wand under his chin, and a feeling that if he did not let go soon, he would soon not have a head.
"Let me go," Hermione said, words hit like ice as the temperature around the area dropped, the light of the sun itself seemed to dim as the walls of the world seem to shrink in his vision, Hermione not caring in the slightest how she looked at the moment.
She would not be grabbed and manhandled or made to feel weak by anyone again, she made a vow to herself after this last time with Ron cheating, he was the final straw, never again.
"I beg you, please help save my people," he asked, while gently letting go and backing away, raising his hands in obvious surrender.
Hermione saw and felt no malice from him, so she slowly lowered her wand and took a deep breath, feeling a bit of shame for her actions just now.
"I apologize," she said dipping her head slightly, but never losing eye contact. "I just don't like to be touched without permission is all," she said.
The real reason not only the being grabbed but were. He had by mistakenly grabbed the cursed scar on her left arm that read *Mudblood*, carved into her flesh by a cursed knife. The scar fated never able to fade, due to its cursed nature.
Even covered with a unicorn hair sleeve as it was now, any unexpected contact caused pain to flare up now and again.
Nothing debilitating, just a sting to constantly remind her of what she was in her old captures' eyes, *dirty blood*.
A sore subject, to be sure, but the man was not to blame, he didn't know so she would put it past her for now.
"Let's eat, and you can tell me everything." She said walking toward the table, Rakharo following close behind.