It all started with a bit of accidental magic, tied to faulty blood wards.
A child barely five wishing for someone to love them, to treat them like a family should...not as the extra child they didn't want.
At first it would seem like nothing had happened. But the child's magic was tired of keeping it alive in a situation it could easily remedy. So it latched on to the faulty blood wards keeping the child in a home where it wasn't wanted, and pulled.
By morning no one would realize that a young girl who hadn't started school yet had vanished. After all, she wouldn't "officially" exist in the eyes of the neighborhood until she started school.
A burly man with red hair was in a good mood. He had just finished conquering yet another kingdom and was returning home to share the spoils. What king would neglect his own men after such a hard won victory? Even he knew when his men needed a break.
His good mood lasted right until a flash of lightning appeared before his chariot, startling the bulls into stopping cold.
In the brief moments before the light dimmed enough to see, his men had already surrounded the area around it.
What they found and what they expected were so totally different it was almost funny.
It was a child.
Realizing the nature of the creature inside, Iskander got off the chariot to inspect it.
It was young. Barely out of toddling years. It had dirty hair that upon closer inspection was as red as spilled blood. The rags upon it barely looked able to give it even a modicum of protection. And there were multiple bruises.
But it was the eyes that entranced him the most. Bright green eyes more vibrant than the leaves around his homeland.
Iskander's grin was wide. He remembered rather well the complaints of his dear mother for a grandchild. Many had come forward since he became king claiming to be the mother of his child...those that were his children were too weak willed to be his heir. Even in training they expected their lineage to prove their worth.
So with a single hand he scooped up the waif, intent to see how far the little one could go. At the very least they could distract his mother until he went back to conquering.
"You intend to keep the child, sire?" asked one of his men.
"Aye! Tis a suitable distraction!" said Iskander.
"Distraction?" muttered one of the men.
"His mother. She's been on his case for him to produce an heir, rather than just another grandchild since some of the children have...debatable heritage," said another.
That sent most of the men snickering.
Though it was true that their King had yet to declare an heir, despite having a few children. Under normal circumstances the first male child would inherit, but their king had been so disgusted with the arrogance of his son that he refused to declare him a prince.
The boy thought his status as the first son of Iskander would get him through any battle.
A single fight with his father disabused the teen of that notion. It was that fight that made the continuation of the kingship under question.
If one of his children wanted to take up the title of King (or Queen) then he wanted to be sure that the crown lay in good hands.
Ten years later...
It was her birthday today. And her father would be visiting again. While he didn't make a point to visit for special occasions, he did at least try to insure that his children got something special for their birthdays.
And this year she had something special in mind. Last year he had given her a magnificent stallion, one that was above the common beasts. She had spent the next few months learning how to care for it and ride it, unlike her brothers and sisters. They were content to let the servants care for the animals, treating them as little more than beasts.
The same could be said of their weapons. They treated them like toys, or performed half ass care of them when they were told to.
And the less said about their studies, the better.
She simply couldn't stand people who coasted on their lineage, or didn't put their all into training.
Those that didn't put proper effort into training, or into studying would only meet disaster.
If she studying, she did so until she understood everything about the subject and even debated about it with her teachers. If she trained, then she did not stop until she had mastered it.
If she was going to be the daughter of the great King, then she was going to put her full effort, or not at all.
Hearing the cheers, she grinned wildly. Her eyes, which had once been like cut emeralds, now shone like rubies. It had started shortly after her father helped her with learning magic, and his hand had slipped on the dagger. It was such a minor cut, but the fact was that their blood mingled.
And ever since then her eyes changed color until they were a bright red.
Alexandria got up and went outside, putting down her scrolls.
Her bright smile got Iskander's attention immediately.
Even at fifteen, Alexandria was an intelligent young woman who's skills were unmatched by any of her other siblings. Her beauty was a cut above that of most women, and her personality was as boisterous as her father's.
But...because of her gender, odds were that she would be married off to a noble and forced to bear children year in and year out, rather than answer the call in her heart.
Like Iskander, she had the heart of a conqueror. She refused to be delegated to serving some weak willed nobleman!
She waited for her father to call her. After all, even if he forgot it was her birthday, Grandmother would be sure to remind him.
"So Alexandria...what do you wish for your birthday?"
"I want to join you on the battlefront," she said bluntly.
Everyone around her was silent.
"A battlefront is no place for a young woman!" scolded her grandmother.
"Explain your reasoning," said Iskander.
"Learning how to use a sword and a bow is good, and I do enjoy reading. However, I find it rather...unpleasant...knowing that because of my gender my most likely path is to be married off to someone I can barely stand. I would rather see if my calling is indeed in scholarly pursuits, or if I can find it in the thrill of battle."
Iskander looked her in the eyes, and saw she was being entirely serious. She had thought this over with great deliberation, and found that something was lacking. Much like he had when he first began conquering kingdoms.
"Very well. I will take you with me on my next conquest. However, there are some rules you will have to follow."
"You are to stay by my side, at least for the first month. You will live and train with the rest of the men, and be treated no differently than they will. If you intend to bring your horse and weapons, you will be in charge of their care. None of the men will help you. Should you find battle to your liking, I will train you as best I can between battles. However, if you dislike the idea the idea of killing others, I will send you back here with no hesitation," said Iskander seriously.
"Very well. I accept your conditions, Father," said Alexandria without hesitation.
Iskander looked her in the eyes, as if judging her sincerity.
"We leave within the week. Be prepared to march out before then, and make preparations."
"Yes, father," said Alexandria, glad it had gone as smoothly as it did.
"Before I forget, happy birthday."
Alexandria's countenance changed to a far more easy going one.
"Thank you father. Did you remember or did grandmother have to remind you?" she teased.
Seeing him sputter, it was obvious someone had reminded him at the last minute.
Alexandria packed sensibly. Rather than bring multiple clothes and jewels with her, she packed lightly. She had a few outfits, yes, but they were ones that provided excellent movement. Only one of them could be considered "fancy". She packed spices that could be used with multiple dishes, and cookware that made it easy to prepare them. There were a few jugs which had once been filled with wine, but she had saved them and filled them with the cleanest water she could find.
At her side was her favorite sword, and on her back was a bow.
Her saddle was firmly attached, and she had a bag latched to the pack she had made with all the essentials needed to care for her steed. His shoes had been checked by the blacksmith, and any issues with the saddle had been fixed. She had a full quiver of arrows just in case. They were secured in such a way that they wouldn't fall out too easily, even if upended.
She preferred close combat anyway.
Iskander looked over at his daughter, then at the provisions she had packed for the long journey. He said nothing, but it was clear he approved of her pragmatic approach.
In battle, there was no need to carry heavy things unless it was a weapon, and even then you had to decide whether it was worth the effort and cost to maintain it.
She had a medium sized pack with essentials for travel, and she kept her weapons close at hand. Only a fool stored them in a pack where it wouldn't be easy to draw in the event they were attacked.
"Men! Let us once again march onward!" said Iskander proudly.
The men cheered, though a few did cast odd glances at Alexandria. The battlefield was no place for a young woman.
Some time later...
Any doubts he held about his daughter's place in the battlefront were swept away after the first few fights. She didn't hesitate to deal the lethal blow, and she didn't shirk away from duty. Far from it. Within the first two months, she had won over his men and earned her place by his side.
Alexandria truly had the same heart of a conquering king as he did.
He could see it in her eyes. While she enjoyed the thrill of battle, she was also able to turn enemies into allies.
Out of all his children, she was the one who emulated him the most, despite not being of his blood.
Iskander spent his time between battles training Alexandria as his heir. None of the other children had shown any inclination or ability like she did. Truly, Alexandria was the best choice.
Alexandria, age eighteen...
Where once a semi-awkward teenager had been, there was now a confident young woman with the backing of several life or death battles. She truly lived up to the name of Iskander's daughter, because the men followed her as eagerly as they did him to a certain extent.
Beside her, her pegasus Ixion snorted. It's midnight black coat gleamed under the sunlight.
Her original horse Caliburn had fallen in battle, much to her heartbreak. She had given him a proper burial, and to celebrate how noble and reliable a steed he had been, she had hunted and brought back several large boars for the men to enjoy.
Unlike her father, who always caused such a ruckus, she found it very easy to hunt animals. She had patience and she knew how to be quiet.
With the training her father had given her, she had sprouted like a weed. She was a head shorter than him, but considering he was the tallest man she had ever know, that was acceptable. Her chest, which had been rather modest when she joined him on the battlefront, had also grown considerably in size.
After the first year of battle, Iskander had commissioned her a personal set of armor. Much to his amusement, she went with a slightly more feminine version of his own, which really didn't do much to hinder her rather large assets. And some of the more stuck up idiots they dealt with found her skirts to be scandalously short, and thought she showed far too much cleavage to be a proper young lady.
She didn't care. The more affronted she made them, the lower the chances were that her grandmother would be able to marry her off later.
Though she had made it clear that she refused to marry anyone her father didn't personally approve of, and had at least been through one real battle and survived. She would never consider any man who had never been blooded in battle.
"Eager to get back to the battle, Alexandria?" asked her father.
"Someone has to show these arrogant men what a real woman is like. We're not all simpering maidens who think nothing of children," said Alexandria.
Iskander chuckled. She had his attitude and charisma. Any man would be lucky to have her...but like his daughter, he set the standards high for any potential match.
His heir deserved nothing but the most deserving man who wouldn't try to curb her ambitions.
She had already expressed an interest in trying her own luck conquering countries on her own.
However unlike Iskander, who wanted to go to the east and see the orient, Alexandria chose to head west. To the lands of the battling tribes and the vikings.
He had little interest in those people, but it would mean his own legend would spread further than he had hoped. But more than that, it would give his heir a chance to grow from out of his shadow.
"Just remember not to kill all of them. The hardest battle you'll ever face is changing the hearts of those around you from enemies to allies."
"I remember father," said Alexandria proudly.
As the sun began to set, it took a few moments to realize something was wrong. Ixion began to pace nervously.
"Ixion, what is it?"
It was really a good thing she was such a competent Magus. Otherwise all her things would have gone flying off the pegasus. Her bags were much bigger than they appeared, and the last time she visited home she put it to the test. So far, the spell on the bags was holding. She had all her favorite scrolls, including a copy of her father's favorite poem, the Iliad.
Ixion was really stirring up a fuss. Alexandria tried to calm him down.
With a loud neigh, she almost missed the transportation circle under her. She had never used one, because half the fun was in the journey, but she knew it when she saw it.
"What is this?" said Iskander.
"It's a high level transportation circle. And from the looks of it...I was the intended target," said Alexandria, far too calmly. However she was clearly seething.
Realizing there was nothing he could do, Iskander had only one thing to say.
"Conquer their lands and be sure to return."
"I will father. I'll make them rue the day they kidnapped Alexandria, daughter of the greatest Conqueror to live!" she vowed.
The circle flared, taking Alexandria and Ixion with it.
Iskander said nothing to the men. Most of them had seen what happened. And they were all rather pissed someone had taken their Princess.
Present time, Scotland...
Everyone in the Great Hall was eagerly awaiting the return of the Girl-Who-Lived. She had gone missing years ago, six years before her anticipated return to the magical world. No one had known until after someone started asking pointed questions on how the heir of a noble house had gone missing without anyone realizing it.
The circle was cast. The Goblet of Fire had enacted protocols to create an emergency summoning of the one selected. It was an old ritual that had taken two months to prepare...the girl would barely have time to face the first task.
Eager eyes watched as the circle reached a climax, before a massive crack of thunder was heard.
There was a massive shadow of a pegasus against the wall. There was a distinct show of lightning from the hooves of the great beast. But it was the woman on it's back that really drew the attention of the men.
She had bright red hair that shined in the light. Her eyes were like sharp rubies. And her clothes... well, they were clearly not something the stuffy old pure bloods wold have approved of. She wore what appeared to be Greek armor with pride. She had a sword at her waist that looked well used and cared for. On her back was a bow and full quiver of arrows. Attached to the saddle was a pair of bags, both of them used and well worn.
There was a certain amount of arrogance in her stance, but above all it was the eyes that kept drawing you in. Her very presence seemed to command attention.
"I am Alexandria! Who has dared to summon me from my home?" she commanded with all the authority of a King.
Her father trained her well. If you were going anywhere that you needed to make an impression, then you had best make one they wouldn't soon forget. And that if you were in the presence of people you suspected might be your enemies, then it was best to announce yourself with all the command of a king.
And judging by the shocked expressions of the people around her, she had made a very strong impression indeed.
"Excuse me miss..." started Dumbledore.
"Alexandria," she said with confidence and pride. It was almost staggering just being around her.
"Are you by any chance Miss Potter?"
"I have no idea which one of you cast that blasted circle that ripped me from my family, but rest assured there will be hell to pay. And someone take this damn spell off me!"
There was only one reason for a spell to be on her. A quick check revealed a very basic and primitive translation spell. Apparently when she was summoned, it was automatically attached to her.
Which meant whatever language she spoke, it wasn't English.