Quidditch League Round 3 - Appleby Arrows [Chaser 3]
Prompts: Hardened (7); Springtime (11); A Lament - Oscar Wilde (12)
Londinium
They had been forced into hiding when the Romans had decided to move into their lands. The strange power they wielded was seen as a threat by most of those who did not have it. The muggles. They foolishly feared the unknown power; they killed the wielders of the power without understanding that they, the bearers of the power, wished for nothing more than a peaceful existence. They liked their solitude, but they had been forced to leave everything they could not carry, behind. They had lost a lot of their history in their quick, and somewhat violent, escape.
They liked their peace. They didn't like violence and pain. They had been raised that way since their first ancestors had arrived near the river. They had everything they ever wanted and needed. Everything they needed had been in the exact amount they needed it, not too much nor too little. Marcus, their leader, had always made sure they never wasted anything.
Now they had nothing. They were hungry. They were angry.
The fields and plains where their small community had lived for generations had been thoughtlessly cleared and leveled. Splendid buildings had been built in their place, surrounded by a large protective wall, marking the newest Roman conquest. The protections they had placed on their homes had proven useless against the onslaught of greed that filled the minds of the Romans.
There were only around twenty of them that had enough control over their power to fight, including the women. The Romans had an army of several hundred men who wore glittering armour and clothing the colour of newly shed blood. Sharp weapons that could easily overpower them with their numbers had also been spotted in the hands of the guards. They were not willing to risk the lives of their children for land that could easily be taken away from them again.
That had been two moons ago. Now their children were hungry, faces gaunt and eyes sunken. They had no choice now. They had to find a way to find food or the children would die of hunger, a fate no better than an attempted attack.
They had a smaller chance of fighting back now. The mothers were frail and weak from sacrificing their food portions for their children. The men had grown thinner from their smaller meals and their attempts at sharing their portions with their wives. There was no need for anyone to die, even if it meant they were never quite full. The fight they had barely managed to cling on to in the years of peace and passiveness had been eaten away by their hunger.
It was a hopeless situation.
They had watched the new city's arms reaching out to the previously unused land on the other side of the river in silent horror. They knew that once the muggles began expanding their dominion, they would not stop until they had conquered everything, or until they were stopped. The latter seemed more and more impossible with each successive day.
Marcus knew their safety lay on his shoulders as their leader but there was no other way. They would have to mask their magic and enter the growing empire, hopefully remaining unnoticed. They needed the food. They were desperate. Their pride of independence could be swallowed until their stomachs stopped rumbling. Until something of substance could be swallowed, leaving their stomachs feeling heavy and their minds a little sleepy, and satisfied. Grateful.
They had nothing left. It was like the driest winter that would only be broken by a springtime rain. They were waiting for that rain that meant everything would be getting easier. They were waiting for the ground to soften and the fresh leaves began to waken into the world. They were waiting for their new beginning.
It still wouldn't change what they had faced. The children would forever be hardened to reality. They would always remember the biting hunger, even when their stomachs were full because you never forgot hunger. They would never take any luxuries they got for granted. They would be careful. It was one of the things Marcus regretted most from the entire ordeal.
Even the smallest feats of magic required their combined power now. It took several minutes of pure concentration before their practical clothing had been swapped for the flowy garments they had seen worn within the walls of what had apparently been named 'Londinium.'
They were allowed through the gates without a second glance.
They carefully watched their surroundings guardedly. Finding a way beyond the gates had only been the first step. They still needed to find enough food for the children at the very least.
They were entering uncharted territory horribly, perhaps morbidly, unprepared.
They moved out of the way, mingling within the crowd but remaining within an arm's length from each other, as they heard the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground. A glance upwards showed them a family of three dressed in what looked like fine cloth. The horses were pure white and well taken care of. It was clear the family was rich, and took pride in the amount of respect they were paid by the people around them.
The family stopped near the fountain and dismounted. The child, who had looked much older as he had sat, stiff-backed, on the horse, could not be much older than their youngest. His father helped him off his horse and allowed him to wander among the people, trusting that his son would come to no harm. A fond glance followed the boy before he was out of sight, blocked by a mass of bodies.
It was obvious that this family was well known among the people here. Many of the women paused to talk to the little boy and hand him small items of food that they miraculously managed to pull out of what seemed like air. They were only able to watch in wonder, until the boy was standing before their group.
The boy had blue eyes, and hair that looked as dark as the night sky. His head was tilted curiously to the side as he examined them one by one. He looked mature for his age, as if he knew much more than he should. It almost felt as if he understood their predicament. He couldn't, could he?
His eyes reached their youngest, before widening slightly as if recognizing something familiar within her. They restrained the urge to step in front of her, although they were not entirely sure what they wished to protect her from. They doubted the boy could do much harm to her. He was only a child after all, and probably a muggle too.
The boy walked forward slowly, as if the tension and suspicion the group emitted were almost physical, and placed a small loaf of bread he had received earlier into her hand without a word.
"Quintus!"
The boy glanced, startled, at his mother that was once again standing near the horses, trying to find him among the crowd. He looked at the food left in a basket he had picked up at some point, and back at them.
The boy shrugged before handing the basket to them, still full of food and other oddities, and walking off to where his parents were waiting for him. Not a word had passed between them, but they felt grateful for the boy, Quintus', actions.
It seemed their spring had come, soundlessly hopeful in the form of that young boy.
They would find a way to repay him for his kindness, no matter how long it took for them to be in a position to help him in return.
It was the least they could do.