War Of Athens [ A HOO love fanfic]

Katie

Katie and Miranda sat on a crate in the basement of the castle. Miranda had laid her head on Katie's shoulder a while ago. The room had nearly emptied. All the men had left with swords in their hands, and some of the women had joined them. Only a handful of women, the very elderly, a few of the ill, and most of the children were left. This was all that was left. Katie looked over the people with grim sorrow.

These were the legacy of Athens.

A baby cried out. All of the survivors turned to look at the baby boy in his mother's arms. The woman was young. She seemed to be a farmhand of some sort. Her face was smudged with dirt, her cheeks tearstained, her dress and petticoat ripped and muddy, and a cracked wedding band on her finger. Her baby was wrapped in a child's waistcoat, and it shivered horribly in the cold dampness of the basement.

The woman wearily attempted to hush her baby. All at once she stopped, tears running down her face, and the baby kept crying. Everyone looked at the baby. Katie hopelessly felt deep in her heart that this child, this Son of Athens, was the voice of what was left of his people. An older mother, with a sleeping baby girl in her arms, another little girl clutching her ragged skirt in her tiny fists, and a young boy helplessly fiddling with a stick in his hand beside her, put her hand on the young mother's shoulder. The younger mother managed a weak smile, but the tears pursued still.

The older mother handed the sleeping girl to her son, and took the boy from the younger mother.  She hummed a soothing lullaby, and everything in the basement stopped. Nobody moved. The only sounds in the dungeon were the song of this brave mother, and the crying of another women's child, which soon faded, leaving only the melody ringing through the ears of all of the survivors. The baby fell asleep.

This was all that was left. Some bread crumbs. A few crates of wine. And a few worn and tattered citizens of a once great city. Katie looked at her sister, who had laid her head on her shoulder. She shook Miranda softly.

"Miranda," she whispered. Her sister did not stir. She shook her harder. "Miranda," she said a little louder this time. Still no response. The stillness of her sister's chest struck Katie. She now realized that the exhales from Miranda's nose onto Katie's cold neck had grown more unstable, softer, and farther in between as she had surveyed the survivors, before stopping altogether.

 All at once Katie skipped the Disbelief stage. There was no point in it anymore. Katie didn't have the strength to go through that stage again. Not after Travis. She took her sister's hand, still warm, but rapidly cooling. She pulled her sister close to her. Katie ran her hand through her sister's hair, and found her finger's came back red at the fingertips. There was a gash in Miranda's head.  Tears ran down Katie's face. She sobbed, clutching her sister to her chest. The survivors all looked at her.

The daunting of how their fellow survivor had become a survivor no more so unnoticed and out of nowhere as they had sat there trickled through them, as they all realized what had happened. The younger mother clutched her baby boy closer to her chest until she was certain that she could feel his breathing on her cheek. The older mother lifted her daughter onto her lap, clutching her baby girl close, and took her son's hand. A sick, elderly man in the corner pushed himself up and fell to his knees. On the floor there, out loud for all to hear, he prayed. Some survivors crossed themselves. Others offered silent prayer.

Then the older mother took the younger mother's hand. The younger mother took the old man's hand, the old man took the hand of the young man next to him and so it continued. Katie watched with onlooker's eye, still mourning her sister in now silent sobs. Until the older mother's son reached up and took Miranda's hand. Tears filled the eyes of the other survivors at the sight of this young boy holding the hand of Katie's dead sister. Katie reached and took the hand of the young girl next to her, who couldn't have been older than 13, but seemed to be there by herself. All of the survivors were now connected in a big circle.

The symbolism touched Katie's heart. Maybe they were all that was left. She had certainly lost enough along the way. But they would make it through this war. Together.