MAXIMUS P.O.V

That day was miserably cold, with frigid biting winds slicing at any bared skin and sheets of ice crisping the forest floor of their encampment. The sky was dreary, grey and heavily oppressive, threatening rainfall come night. Yet, as Maximus rode into their camp beside their emperor Marcus Aurelius after another long, gruelling battle to push the Gauls back and into subjugation, he couldn't understand why everyone he passed on his short ride to the centre of the camp was so happy. Until he saw her.

Really, in time to come, Maximus would understand her story never really began with her, but with players who died long before her first breath, and just like her life's journey through this world, her sudden appearance in a closed off regiment of the Roman Empire, entrenched in battle with the Gauls across a nation unmapped, didn't begin with her either. It began with a man, as most stories do.

He too, had murky roots, a back story Maximus was sure only the Emperor knew and whispered of. However, since his own induction into Romes civilisation, into this legion itself, a short five years prior, he had climbed the ranks like it was naught but a ladder, befriending soldiers and generals with easy banter, cheeky smiles, and sword metal eyes that told of knowing a little too much for comfort. Maximus himself had found companionship over a few cups of wine with the man, speaking far more freely than perhaps he should have.

Mayhap that was the mans strength, his orbital pull of friendliness. Mayhap that was how and why not many questioned exactly who he was or where he came from. Mayhap that is why the man had become such a trusted advisor to Marcus Aurelius in only five years, where many had tried for a life time and failed as miserably as the Gaulish weather. Maximus didn't often spend his time on such thoughts, he liked the man and Sirius Black seemed to like him, especially with the jokes and jaunty conversation he had struck up with Maximus on the ride back to camp.

Still, upon witnessing the woman, seeing Sirius's reaction and the consequential proceedings that shook the Roman Empire at its very roots just from her presence and involvement in time to come, perhaps even instigating and conserving the empire where it would have surely crumbled without her presence before… Perhaps he should begin asking such questions. But that was hindsight, sight and ideology Maximus would not gain for many, many years, and upon that dreary day, wet, cold and hungry from battle, Maximus could only focus on how astronomically she stood out nestled in her surroundings.

It was her hair really, that caught ones eye first and foremost, or perhaps it was because that was all Maximus could see of her with her back turned to his face, talking amicably to a group of muddied soldiers. Red flames of vivid vermillion, candlelight orange with hints and strands of burnt marigold concentrated around her face. As if Helios and Apollo, moved much by her beauty, had clambered down from the sky and blessed her hair with sunbeams by a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Alight and moving in spiralling tendrils that danced in the wind, long and alive. So very, very alive.

The other horse riding side by side with Marcus neighed loudly as Sirius yanked hard on the reigns, his feet slogging into the mud deeply as he scrambled from his horse, his voice hoarse and broken as he shouted over to the little congregation as he stumbled forward in his haste. Maximus had never seen the man in such a state before.

"Harry! Dear gods… Harry! Herennia!"

Then she turned and Maximus vaguely knew what had caused the light atmosphere and smiles. Marble skin, pale and white like the moon, almost deathly so if it were not for the healthy blush blossoming from the cold tinging at the apple of her cheeks and tip of her nose and chin. A constellation of freckles mapped across her small nose, swerving under her eyes like Gaulish war paint. Just like her skin, marbled, her features were sharp, carven. Cut lines and arching brows of Vienna red. She was tall, draped in a fur cloak and an off green woollen dress with hints of healthy curves playing underneath the confines of the heavy clothes.

A strange scar splintered across her forehead, silvery and spiderweb thin, in a zagging shape that touched down on one eyebrow, threatening to slice it in two. Then her eyes took breath away. There was no paint, no fruit, no field of grass or rolling hills that could describe the very green that shone from those eyes unnaturally bright. Then Sirius had reached the smiling woman, grasped her solidly by the shoulders and trembled through his next words.

"How… What… How?"

Her smile was bright, toothy, unrestrained and whole hearted. Maximus idly wondered if he crept up to her, raised his hands, if he too could feel heat radiating from the smile like one would with a sun ray penetrating thick clouds. Her fingers were long, thin, a musicians hands, as they raised, clasped tightly at one of Sirius's, pulled it gently away from her shoulder and yet kept it prisoner between the bars of her fingers. As if she couldn't quite bear letting him go.

"Sanguini helped me. You really, truly believed the veil could stop me from finding you?"

Sirius violently shook his head, tangled locks and curls whipping at his own face, though the man seemed not to care. The woman… Herennia seemed to care enough for them both as she finally let go of his hands to grasp his face between firm but gentle palms, her thumb idly running along his bearded cheek, gently scratching off a smear of mud… Or blood, it was hard to tell the difference between the two when they dried upon skin together.

"But… The veil is a one way trip. How are you going to get ho-"

Whatever Sirius was going to say would be forever lost as she cut him off with a humming, raspy chuckle, a sound that reminded Maximus of running fingers through fine, thick fur.

"I'm not. I'm here, I'm with you. To me, that is all that matters. Home… Home wasn't home without you."

From his angle, Maximus could only see half of Sirius's answering smile as he and she brushed forehead against forehead in a familiar gesture between the two. So lost in this odd display, understanding their words but obviously missing the heavy meaning behind them even with the hints so present, Maximus missed the Emperor descending from his own horse and marching towards the two with the resounding clank and click of his armour. It was only as he stopped a few steps shy of the pair, smiling gently and beginning to speak that Maximus's mind finally drifted back from the sky and into his head, where it belonged, as he jumped from his own mount and made way to stand next to Marcus.

"Dear Sirius… Who is this lady?"

Sirius reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, but not fully, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders and pulling her to his side.

"This is Herennia Potte-… Herennia Black. My daughter. And that man there you see trying to dislodge his sandal from the pile of horse shit he's trod in…"

With his free hand, Sirius dismissively waved behind them to a young man, around the same age as the woman, nineteen if Maximus had to guess, one he had overlooked somehow, who was currently trying to heave his leg free from a pile of manure. He was as striking as the female, white blonde hair, but his features were too sharp, pointed. His dress and manner was also contradictory, dressed in a thick silken cloak, beguiled with gems and gold, face turned and scrunched in disdain as he glanced at them, finally pulling himself free as he shook his leg out. Not the best choice of footwear.

"Is my nephew, Draco Malfoy. Or is it black now?"

Giving up on trying to clean his foot, he hobbled towards the pair, snarl twisting heavily at his lips, words bitten out between clenched teeth. He looked like a spoiled prince.

"Black. I've given up on the Malfoy name a long time ago now. However, I'm heavily considering a conversion back, what with Herennia promising a 'adventure through battlefields' away from father and only delivering on wet weather, mud and vile smells. I mean, look at my cloak! This is real gold embroidery and it's stained! My sandals are ruined! I'll have to throw this tunic away and it smells like death around here! If mother was here she would be-"

Maximus wondered if this Draco was fully cognative… What else had he expected a battlefield to be like if not of death and decay? The two, Sirius and Herennia, seemed like they were used to the bemoaning princely boy as they simply rolled their eyes and said in unison;

"Be silent Draco."

Should I continue?