A/N: Hello my wonderful readers! This story is AU and set in a different century, and I've made some characters non-magical, ages have been warped, etc. I hope that you all enjoy!

Thorns

By Montley

There has never been any daylight in the sky at the time Hermione has always been forced to wake every day to drawn blinds, closed doors and pitch-black darkness. The thudding on her door and the call of her name every morning forces her to resign from her blissful dreams where she is free, and open her eyes.

She hated being a princess.

Most girls no doubt would kill her in her sleep if it meant they could steal her shoes, be adorned in her dresses and breathe through her lips. Rather Hermione wanted to smash her slippers, rip open her dresses and stop her breathing as her life was torturous. Every day she wished that her soul had latched inside a different womb rather than her straitlaced mother's. It was a cursed life, already planned and laid out for her, and she had no say in it at all.

Then the maids unlocked the barred door leading to her room, and Hermione grumbled. She turned her body to face the door and wished that they would leave her in peace one morning. The maids tried to walk through the doorway after they unlocked it, but it was as though there was a force field in their way, forbidding them entrance. The spectacle greatly amused Hermione, who barely had any joy in her boring humdrum of a life.

"Princess!" one of the maids named Violetta shrieked. Hermione opened her mouth to speak back, but the frazzled look on Violetta's face entertained her mind too much.

"Please, Hermione, let us in, it's only our duty," another maid said in a sweet tone, and she turned her head to glance at her. It was her closest friend Mariella, rather, her only friend in the castle.

"It's not like I'm preventing you," she mumbled in return and faced the window once more, seeing the royal blue curtains blocking the little sunshine that existed.

"We can't get in!" she called, and suddenly a jumble of noise was heard by Hermione, and she saw the three maids on top of the other on the floor, and she let out a giggle.

"How in the world did you three manage that?" she questioned with a laugh. One of the maids gave her a disgruntled look as they piled off of the other. Muttering, they headed towards different parts of the room, Violetta began to prepare the day's clothes, another named Stella drew a warm bath, and the third, Mariella, prepared her vanity, which was Hermione's least favorite part about the morning, so only Mariella could handle her. Her hair was bushy since the day she was born, and it was pure torture having the maids brush it. They tried to make it look in their opinion of 'nice,' while Hermione would have been fine with running her fingers through it a few times.

"Come Miz, for baff," Stella beckoned, and Hermione regretfully left her warm and toasty duvet. Stella was a maid who had difficulty speaking since she was a little child, as her father had ignored her problems and beat her senseless practically every day until Stella was rescued. Hermione's father, the king, had taken pity on Stella and had hired her with full pay.

Stella took off Hermione's clothes and shoved her inside the tub without any care. Hermione always felt uncomfortable under the maid's gaze while she was nude. If she was not a princess, this would not have to happen; she would have to bathe herself instead. The maids slowly got her dressed and ready for the day, even though she was fully capable of doing it herself, and then escorted her to breakfast, followed by one of the castle's many knights whose faces were always hidden.

Her father smiled at her as she entered the dining room, as he always did, and like Hermione always did, she did not return it. Her mother did not notice her entrance, but she was focusing on her manners, as usual. Hermione took her normal spot at the long mahogany table and waited for her father to predictably start the Morning Prayer.

"Name of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, amen," he began when both Hermione's eyes and her mother's laid on him and they all did the sign of the cross together. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. In his name, my God, have mercy. Amen."

Hermione sighed after the prayer was over, and Stella rushed over to pile food onto her plate, which she could easily do herself, but no doubt her mother would scold her for doing so. The maid never put any of the good food on her plate, but only the 'healthy' ones to keep her figure that a princess must have in order to be 'respected'; they were foods that caused her to wish to vomit as she would have preferred sausage, hash browns, omelets, the good food that her father hogged.

"Margaret," her father said, calling her mother's attention. "The Weasley family is coming for lunch and a game of croquet today."

"Lovely," her mother replied without a glimmer of a smile. "I've been missing Lady Molly."

"Are Lord Ronald and Lady Ginevra attending as well?" Hermione asked hopefully. They were two of her best friends, and she missed them dearly. She would not go a day without writing to them. They were the youngest of the Weasley family. The Weasleys had the least amount of power than the other families of nobility, but they were very affable and would never dare betray her father.

"Yes, they are, dear," her father answered, smiling at her, and she was immensely relieved, there would be no way she would be able to stand the day watching croquet without Ginny at her side. At that moment the castle's messenger ran inside the dining room, and her father looked up expectantly at the trembling man.

"King and Queen Granger, a letter from The Castle of Gaunt," the messenger addressed, carefully leaving the letter next to her father's plate. Her father scratched his graying beard before picking up the letter. He unsealed the letter with his butter knife and mouthed it to himself as he read, his hooked nose brushing against the sweet-smelling, fresh parchment; her mother even paid attention to him for once, her face appearing eager. When he was finished reading, he gave a slight nod to her mother before eyeing Hermione.

"They're coming this week, my daughter," he proclaimed.

"Who? The Gaunts?" Hermione asked. Throughout her life, the Gaunt family had never visited her family's castle, and their culture and looks still remained a mystery to her. She did know that it was led by the drunken Lord Morfin and his sister, Lady Merope, only because he depended on her for an heir, which was her young adult son. People spread rumors that Lord Morfin and Lady Merope had an incestuous relationship together, producing Merope's son. Others knew the truth that her father swore to, which was that she instead had a relationship with a peasant man. When she fell pregnant, the scared man left her alone with the child, and her brother took her to his castle where she birthed and raised him.

"Yes, my dear," he replied sullenly, shaking his head to himself out of shame, and Hermione creased her eyebrows.

"Tell her, my love," her mother requested, and Hermione stared at her father, waiting expectantly.

Her father cleared his throat before speaking again, "Well, you see Hermione, the Gaunts are not just coming here for a visit. They will be staying here for a while until your upcoming marriage."

Hermione's eyes widened in pure surprise, and she accidentally spat some food out as she spluttered, "M-my what!?"

"You see, for two years you have been betrothed to their son and sole heir," her father continued, anxiously moving his hands around.

"Why didn't you tell me this before, father!?" Hermione yelled, tears rushing to her eyes, and she stood from her seat at the table in outrage.

"Dear, please, it happens to everyone, especially those of nobility," he attempted to reassure her.

Hermione, in boiling rage, seethed, "I'm only sixteen years old, and I have never met this man! You've hidden this from me for two years! Two years! How could you do this to me! How!? It's bloody unfair! And I have no say in this matter at all apparently! How could you be so cruel?"

"Sit down, please Hermione," her father ordered her in a calm tone.

"A princess does as a princess is commanded by her King," her mother lectured, forcing eye contact with her. Hermione once again slumped into her seat, her throat feeling raw and unnatural.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but this engagement was to settle disputes between the Gaunts. They would have revolted against us, causing war and death between our peoples," her father said as an attempt for an apology, sympathy lurking around in his brown eyes.

"So that's all I am, a deal broker!" Hermione moaned. She buried her head in her arms and wept on the table, even her mother did not care to correct her this time.

Hermione wanted to escape and run away from her family. Feelings of hate filled her body, traveling up her bloodstream, and she muttered to herself. She wanted to leave, venture the world, have adventure and dreams at her disposal, and not be stuck in the castle for the rest of her life. The table began shaking underneath her, the utensils clanged on the long table. Hermione lifted her head up and saw the shaking table, her mother screaming, her father stammering, and the servants attempting to hold the table down. When Hermione saw the sadness and fear in her mother's eyes, her feelings softened, and the table stopped moving all around. Hermione was stunned and could not stop staring at the table as well as everyone surrounding her.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I would have liked it to be different, but in life you don't always get what you desire. You are a princess and you are supposed to serve your kingdom," her father finally lectured after a few minutes, slight fear lacing in his brown eyes.

Hermione ignored his words and his beginning of an imminent lecture of the proper way to be a princess, declaring, "I'm leaving."

"No, Hermione, you shall not," he father answered, filling with his own anger.

"I never wanted to be a princess, please Father, I'm sure you can find any other peasant girl who would be happy to be your daughter," she pleaded. "Let me be free."

Her mother was speechless while her father grew red in the face, "I am not abandoning my daughter in this dangerous and deceitful world! You need to be protected."

"No I don't! I am fully capable of anything I want to do, Father!"

"You are my daughter, my daughter only, and you do as I say! I am the King!" he yelled, slamming his beefy fist upon the table, and the sound reverberated throughout the room.

"Seeing as I've got no choice in the matter, as usual, I'll stay with you in this dreadful castle," Hermione wept. "May I be excused?"

"Stella! Take her to her bed chambers," he ordered, snapping his fingers at the startled Stella who then rushed to Hermione's side. Hermione whispered in Stella's ear after leaving the dining hall to take her to the library instead of her bed chambers. Stella always wished to please the royals, especially Hermione, so she did as she was told by her.

The library was near the dining hall, so it was a quick stroll. The doors to the library always amazed Hermione as they were so magnificent. It touched the ceiling, and it was made of the richest wood, and it was also surrounded with decorated stained glass windows. The glass represented past Kings and Queens, and at the top of the door there was a representation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and a cross was engraved on the wood below him. One would think that it would lead into Church, but the door that actually leads to the Church was much more beautiful.

She burst open the doors and smelled the crisp air radiating off of the books and tomes. There was nothing that Hermione loved more than books, stories, and philosophies. The only bright side of being a princess was the immense library open to her, full of rich knowledge waiting to be absorbed by the reader. She soared through the library, her steps resonating throughout the vast room as the floors were made of the most expensive stone. She headed towards her private corner, with the bright red armchair and dark brown wood side table where she piled her books to read or reread.

She felt a thrill in disobeying her father, but feared for the rest of the week, where no doubt he would punish her severely. The betrothal made him high-strung, he had never yelled at her before that breakfast. She scanned through the pile of books she had left earlier and chose The Prince, by Machiavelli. She knew that it contained highly controversial views of leadership, and she felt that she would abhor the book, but everything deserves a chance.

She started reading the book and was already utterly repulsed by Machiavelli's ideals. The monarchy was something she already despised, but the way Machiavelli described how a ruler should be filled her with disgrace towards him. Her father did not act in those ways thankfully, but Hermione would prefer a government system where the people have a say instead of one sole ruler. Rousseu, another famous philosopher spoke of general will in his book, The Social Contract. It was everything Hermione wanted for her Kingdom, but unfortunately she did not know if the monarchy would ever cease. Unfortunately, she would have to be the next Queen, along with her betrothed as the sole ruler.

She shut the tome, she could no longer concentrate on Machiavelli's words, and she tossed it aside upon the lacquered ground. Since she was a little girl she knew that as a princess she would not be able to choose her future husband, so she believed that her future husband would at least be Ronald, son of the Weasley's, Lord Arthur and Lady Molly. For a very long time it was tradition that the Weasley's visited at least once a month for games and lunch. Her father and mother were quite fond of Ron, so she had always believed they would set up a marriage for her with him, not a man she had never even met.

It was not the life she wanted. Instead, she dreamed of being a peasant girl, a life in which she could finally live, feel the feelings of real and complex people with barely any rights and be by their side fighting against the king instead of being his daughter. In that life, it was possible she would be able to find love on her own time with her own rules, if she wanted it or not. She wanted to share her opinions with the world instead of being holed up and silenced inside the castle. She wanted to be charitable and help those in need. That way, she could die happily at least feeling she made an accomplishment in life.

She hated being a princess.

XXX

"Lovely day for some croquet!" her father boasted bombastically to the Weasleys. They had recently finished lunch, but Hermione had not been allowed to speak, nor had Lady Ginevra, for a 'young lady does not speak unless spoken too', a philosophy her mother had said throughout her childhood.

She walked through the courtyard with Lady Ginevra at her side, or as she preferred to call her, Ginny. One of her father's favorite pastimes, and it might have been Hermione's if she was permitted to participate in the activities. She, Ginny, her mother and Lady Molly were forced to sit, chat and watch as the boys played and enjoyed their lives.

The servants who tended to the game would always make sure that her father would win, as he is the King. Even though Lord Arthur should be the one to win as he at least had some skill. No one wanted to get on his bad side though, so the servants never risked letting anyone else win the games. Hermione never listened to the servant's warnings, and relentlessly beat her father at checkers; he never cared but would laugh gaily at her boasting.

"Another dreadfully boring game," Ginny complained to Hermione as they sat down in the courtyard on a bench in front of her mother and Lady Molly.

"It is quite dreadful," Hermione concurred with a few clicks of her tongue.

"You know, Hermione, Ron's taken a fancy in you and is going to make a proposal to your parents. I thought you ought to know," Ginny gossiped with an eager smirk. If she were to marry Ron, she and Ginny would theoretically be sisters.

"I would have preferred that," Hermione muttered, slumping her hand into her head.

"What do you mean?" Ginny carefully asked with a crease of her red eyebrows.

"Without telling me for the past two years, my parents have already set up a marriage for me," Hermione sighed, accepting defeat with the subject.

"Oh my, Lord," Ginny gasped. "Who?"

"I don't even know his first name, but the nephew of Lord Gaunt and son of Lady Merope Gaunt."

"Oh, no, not him!"

"No?"

"No!"

"No…"

"Yes!"

"Why!?"

"Well, you know that there have been many gatherings at my parents' castle with the rest of the nobles to discuss your father's new laws and all that stupidity. The Gaunts have come to them many times. I know that you aren't allowed to attend, but I am since my parents have less of a hold on me," Ginny began with a sign. "I've met your betrothed, even though he is handsome and you will no doubt have beautiful babies…"

"Ginny!"

"I have my opinions," she reasoned and continued. "Anyway, he's horrible and nasty, seemingly unbearable to live with. He was so unctuous and slimy. He kept muttering under his breath. I cannot even imagine the nastiness of which he speaks! He's nothing but a phony and a nasty person. When he spoke to me it was as though he were trying to read my head and discover my weaknesses! I pity you, dear."

"Oh well, thanks so much to my parents, setting me up with seemingly one of the world's worst human being," Hermione griped. Ginny put a hand on Hermione's back to attempt a form of comfort and patted her back. "It's unfair. I know I have to marry, but can't I at least have some sort of choice?"

"I don't have the choice in the matter either. The Malfoy family has made a proposal, but my family has neither accepted nor declined."

"Their boy is a sniveling little ferret," Hermione empathized.

"Ugh, I know, I've unfortunately met the bastard before," Ginny sniped with a roll of her eyes.

"He does not hide his absurd nastiness. His family also appears to want to take down my father, but, God, my father is so blind sometimes."

"Exactly, but if not him, it might go to the Zabini family, where it appears Lady Zabini murdered all of her past husbands. That's not really a family I'd want to marry into," Ginny added.

"There are so many great options in nobility these days," Hermione acknowledged sarcastically, and Ginny laughed.

"You know who I wouldn't mind?"

"Who?"

"Knight Harry," she sighed. "Before you say anything, yes, I haven't met him. But what I've read about him, well, he's a true hero."

"A hero you've never met," Hermione scolded, but continued. "I have heard that he works here, but I've yet to encounter him, of course I never see the knight's faces. They're blind and statuesque."

"Well, if you do encounter him, be sure to get him to write me," Ginny said with a sly wink.

"You're horrible," Hermione teased, and the two of them began chortling, but her mother tapped her on the shoulder, and silenced her laughter quickly. "Anyway, how are your other brothers?"

"Let's see, Bill married into French nobility, the Delacour family, Charlie's leading a siege in Romania, Percy's happily married to a peasant girl named Audrey whom he practically stole, and Fred and George opened a joke shop in Yorkshire, much to the dismay of my parents, but the two of them seem happy," Ginny answered.

"I'm happy for them," Hermione admitted, and Ginny gave her a sad smile in return as silence began to loom over them.

"AND I WIN!" her father suddenly shouted to the air, lifting up his croquet mallet in victory, like always. She snorted and heard her mother moan in embarrassment from behind her.

The boys began some small talk, but Ron turned and made eye contact with Hermione and smiled at her. Hermione tentatively smiled back, and he began jogging towards her, his red hair bouncing upon his head. Hermione heard Lady Molly getting emotional behind her, and because of Ginny's warning, she knew what was about to occur.

"Hermione," he greeted.

"Ronald," she reciprocated with a slight nod, bowing her head towards the ground, the grass seeming like better company.

"Erm, well," he started and then knelt on the ground on one knee, Ginny started trying to signal Ron to stop by pretending to cut her neck with her finger, but he was blind to it. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, and her mother started muttering profanities under her breath. But Ron still pulled out a ring from his pocket and spoke, ignoring everyone's protests in front of him, "Hermione, will you marry me, with your father's permission of course?"

"No, Ron, I can't! I'm betrothed. I'm so sorry," Hermione eyes filled with tears as she saw Ron's heart rip into two before her. She stood, muttered her goodbyes and condolences as she ran out of the courtyard, seeing Lady Molly weeping, and her mother with pity on her saddened face, staring at her own stomach. Yet, Hermione could not bear to see Ron's despair.

She ran so fast she could hardly keep track of her surroundings, she had to get out of there, and she had to breathe. Unfortunately her puke green, tight dress was not helping her. She closed her eyes as she ran, feeling the breeze, trying to calm herself down until she collided with someone in her way, falling to the ground. Her eyes opened immediately, and she started apologizing profusely, until she saw how strange the man she banged into looked.

He was very tall, but thin, with long white hair and beard reaching his waistline. His face was wrinkled. His bright blue eyes shone of curiosity, wonder and wisdom. He wore half-moon spectacles over them. His robes were a rich midnight blue with pale yellow moons and stars inscribed into the stitching.

"Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before," Hermione demanded, still sitting on the bright green grass.

"Hello, Princess Hermione, we've been keeping tabs on you for quite some time and-," he started but paused in the middle of his sentence, aggravating Hermione even more.

"And what?" Hermione asked slowly, nervous but eager to hear what this man was saying. Was there more to her life than being trapped in a castle, bored to tears every day in the same consistent humdrum?

"I'll be seeing you again in the near future," he answered with a twinkle in his eyes, giving her a warming half-grin. Hermione began protesting further, requesting answers as he reached into his robes and pulled out a thin, wooden stick, raised it in the air and disappeared with a single pop.

She backed away slowly, mystified at what she had just seen. She rubbed her eyes to make sure she had not fainted and was not dreaming about that man. She kept rubbing until she knew that she was awake and that it had actually happened.

She heard two Knights rush behind her, their dark and deep voices talking to her, but she did not listen to their words as they began to usher her away.

If that man had been a part of reality or imagination, she knew that everything was bound to change.

A/N: I hope that you have enjoyed the first chapter! The monarchy here is also completely made up so don't worry about that.

Please leave a review so I know what you think!