A/N: I've had this idea for a very very long time. I began scribbling notes down for it almost exactly a year ago from today, so I thought it fitting that today would be the day that I let it loose upon the world. If you've read any of my other work you'll know that I've always loved bending stories to suit a new narrative that might only have glimmers of the original tale, rather than mirroring it completely. I always try to hold back from pulling too far away from the source material, and I hope you will see it shine through now and again.

While this story might revolve around my all time OTP, there will be others that intertwine with theirs. Who knows what will happen?

If you like this start, please let me know, I thought it time to get this out there and give it a shot. Let's see if it holds fast shall we?

Long ago after the fall of the Roman Emperor, before the Isles came to be as we know it, there was a Dark Age. Spanning over 500 years it saw the blood of thousands stain the earth as they fought for control of the land. It was a time of warfare and death, and a time when magic in the Isles, reigned supreme.

…)O(...

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ...
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ...

…)O(...

The small village burned.

Screams rang through the night sky as thatched cottages burst into flames. Britons ran from their homes and fields, ducking for cover as the Roman legion cut them down.

From the trees, blue painted warriors watched the scene unfold.

Frederick sucked cold air through his teeth and let out his held breath in a foggy mist. "Not looking good Georgie."

His twin shook his head, not tearing his eyes from the scene in front of them. "No it doesn't. Not good at all."

The rest of the Druí moved about anxiously beside the pair, shifting in their places. An owl screeched and the pair of hazel eyes turned to see their youngest brother creep up beside them.

"The Merlin says to take your men around the outside and flank them, we've got to be in and out quickly. There are reports of Roman mages tailing the last of the legion." Ron hissed quietly, shoving his long red hair back out of his eyes.

Fred nodded, raising his hands to his lips and letting out a warbling bird call. As one, the Druí drew their wands and began to surge through the darkness towards the flames that rose from the small town, and those that fled from the jaws of death.

…)O(...

Hermione had never realised how hard it was to run in a long skirt until that night. Adding a small, heavy baby to the mix only made it worse. She ran even though her lungs burned, only terror and the adrenaline pumping through her blood kept her moving.

Through the door, down the street, over the fence, past the field, over the log, into the forest.

Through the door, down the street, over the fence, past the field, over the log, into the forest.

She repeated her uncle's instructions to herself in her head. She repeated them as she fled the burning building, as she sidestepped the corpse of the farmer who lived next door, as she caught the eye of the legionnaire pulling his spear from her mothers breast.

She repeated them as she screamed her mother's name and turned, running as fast as she could with baby Rionnach slung across her chest. Hermione repeated them as she grabbed the wooden fence and hauled herself over it, ignoring the splinters and just continuing to run.

Past the field, over the log, into the forest.

Her heart pounded in her throat, as her legs pounded over grass and stone. Hermione risked a glance over her shoulder and half sobbed in terror. They were coming after her. If it were somehow possible, she ran faster. The trees were just ahead. She could hear the clatter of hooves behind her, feel their closeness. Rionnach was wailing against her chest.

Over the log, into the forest.

Hermione leapt over the log, legs outstretched. She heard a tear as her skirt became caught and tore, causing her to lose balance and stumble.

With a shriek, Hermione fell, quickly cradling Rionnach as she hit her head and skidded and then rolled down the grassy slope. Wobbling, she tried to rise, but fell, and they were upon her. Hands grabbing, pulling, trying to take the child from her.

"Rion, Rionnach. No don't take him-"

Tears streamed down her face, and Hermione felt something growing inside her, taking over the fear, as the legionnaire before her readied his sword. It bubbled and frothed and grew, and with a scream of anger, it burst from her, and the air around her exploded in blue.

…)O(...

Fred and his brothers slipped down the embankment and towards the flames, their kinsmen close behind. They descended on the legion and spells began to fly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young woman being chased on horseback, and quickly, he whistled for George. In tandem, they apparated after them to the top of the hill.

The soldier drew his sword and Fred readied a spell when the woman screamed and everything exploded in blue.

"Fred, look out!" George quickly grabbed his older twin and pulled them both down behind the massive log, out of the range of the blue flames that licked at them hungrily.

As soon as it came, it was gone.

Hearts pounding, the two men looked at each other. Panting, they cautiously peered over the log, but at the bottom of the hill were soldiers no longer, only an unconscious young woman, with a child just beyond her arms.

"Bloody hell." Georges whistled through his teeth.

"We need to take her back, the Merlin will want to hear of this." Fred murmured, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

George grabbed a hold of his twin's arm as he went to move over the log "Are you sure we should go down there? What she did to them she could quite easily do to us."

"Gred, that was raw, unchecked power." Fred said, removing the other redhead's hand from its grasp. "I would bet you a dozen sickles she wouldn't know how to do that again if she tried. We need to get her out of here. You heard Ron, Roman mages and all that; now go and gather the others and let's get out of here."

George's lips settled into a thin line, but he nodded resolutely, he always somehow ended up going along with his brothers plans, why change now. "Alright. I'll see you back at Torc."

With that, he turned his wand to his throat and let out a bird call that amplified down into the village. With another concerned look at his brother, George whirled and disapperated into thin air.

Fred turned and rolled over the log, landing gently in a crouching position. Slowly, and with great care, he made his way down to the woman at the bottom of the hill. For all he'd told his brother it'd be fine, he didn't want to take any chances.

The baby was crying, and lay still swaddled, a little ways away from the woman. Gently, the redhead picked up the child and soothed its cries to tiny hiccups. "Shhhh, there now, nice and quiet or you'll make it hard for us to get out of here." Mercifully, the baby went to sleep, and Fred knelt down next to the woman, checking her wrist for a pulse. He thought he could feel it, faintly. Gently, he brushed her curly hair away from her face, and felt at the side of her throat. It was there, almost a little stronger. Dark eyelashes flickered a little and Fred could have sworn she was looking at him. "Don't worry lady, I'm going to get you out of here."

With some effort, he scooped her torso up and concentrated on the fort and in a flash, they were gone.

The village was quieter now. Fires still raged and the scent of iron and death still hung in the air, but no life stirred. Paths lay littered with the dead, Britons, and Legionnaires both silent, only the gentle flapping of the flags as the village settled into its own dust and blood.

…)O(...

As Fred landed in the field, the woman's eyes flashed open for just a moment before she leaned to the side and vomited, before going limp in his arms once more.

Fred grimaced. "Charming." quickly he looked down at the sleeping child and frowned. "Don't you even think about it." Luckily, the baby did not even awake and he breathed a sigh of relief.

With skill borne of long years of practice, he laid the brunette woman on the ground and pulled his wand out, gently levitating her limp form into the air as he stood up. Slowly, Fred began to walk up past the massive lake to the hill fort that rose out of the fog that shrouded it. All around him, more of his people began to appear, some by themselves, and others doing just as he was with the wounded.

The gates before him opened, and men and women streamed out, healers quickly running to check those injured.

Fred smiled down at the sleeping child. "Welcome to Torc, friend. Last great home of the Druí."

A/N: Druí - Druids/sorcerers, Torc - boar