[Fanfic] Brittannica
May. 20th, 2010 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Brittannica
Characters: Mama Ierna (Ancient Britian), Alba, Eire, Cymru, Albion, Mama Iberia, Lusitia (bbPort)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Seriously obscure, old, murky ancient history. And bb Nations that rot teeth.
Summary: Once upon a time, before there were empires or ships that sail the seven seas, or established borders, there was a family.
The little hut on the mountain slope wasn't much of a shield from the cold, but it was out of the wind and enough to do by. Living in the valley would get them spotted and while she enjoyed being worshiped as a goddess, there were only so many fertility rituals she could be bothered with in one week. Retreating up here, especially when she was with child. Or rather had been. She smiled down at her newest child, tufts of blonde hair poking out of the blanket she'd wrapped him, eyes squeezed shut and asleep.
"He's ugly."
"You're ugly."
"You're uglier!"
"You're ugliest! Hah, I win!"
While her two eldest bickered, the third peered down at his new brother's face. "Mama, what're you gonna name him?" he asked, blinking green eyes at her. She pondered this.
"Albion."
-----
It took a few months for his eyes to turn green, but much longer to start growing.
"I still think he looks fat." her eldest son, Alba, folded his arms and peered at the baby. "And blotchy."
"You looked just like him when you were a baby." the eldest daughter, Eire, nodded, presumably in a manner she thought looked knowing and wise. "Only red headed."
"Did not."
"Did so."
"Did not."
"Did so, I was there and I helped."
This successfully grossed out the boy, having been privy to the gory details of childbirth twice now and liking it neither of those occasions. Eire grinned triumphantly.
"I don't see what's so gross about it. Lambs are born the same way." the middle child said, approaching the two with a little lamb in tow.
Alba looked defensive. "Yeah, and that's gross too. Your opinion doesn't count anyway Cymru. You're the little one."
"I'm not any more!" Cymru protested, pout forming. "You can't pick on me any more, I'm not youngest!"
The two redheads shared a look. "Until he learns to walk, we pick on you."
Cymru sighed and started running, his siblings giving chase and picking up rocks on the way. Their mother simply tucked her rust-red hair behind her ear and sighed resignedly.
"You're going to have an interesting life, I'll tell you that." she whispered to her baby, who blinked innocently back.
-----
The ocean smell always came before the sight; the tang of salt and wind and water. Seagulls called to each other, circling on wide white wings to spy food to snack on. Alba tried to knock them out of the sky with little pebbles he picked up along the road, but he was nowhere near strong enough. Eire had a scuffle with a gnome when it tried to steal her shawl, but other than that, the journey was uneventful. Cymru quickly became bored without his sheep.
"Mama, are we there yet?" he whined, pulling on her skirt. It wasn't as though he was tired from walking; it wasn't far to Cornwall. The kids were hardy too. Even Albion had only cried once the whole way, and that was when a stray rock from Alba had almost hit him. It would have been nice if he wasn't getting so heavy to carry.
"Only a little further sweetheart." she replied. Little shoulders slumped, disappointed.
Alba paused in his attempt to slaughter the local birdlife. "Who're we going to see anyway?"
The mother smiled. "Just a friend."
"Mama, mama, I see it! I see the ocean!" Eire squealed excitedly, running ahead, down the rocky slopes with Alba and Cymru close behind. The chalky ground crumbled under their feet, but the small bodies had good balance.
Along the shore were boats, clearly worn from the journey and full of tired sailors. Out of the largely male crew, there stood one woman. She was darker skinned than the approaching family, and also had a small child in her arms, her stomach round with late pregnancy. That she'd made the journey all the way here in this state was a feat in and of itself.
"Iberia!"
The woman turned, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Ierna!"
The two women shared a quick hug, minding their babies and Iberia's stomach. The children looked mildly surprised that their mother even had a name, as most children did. Iberia started babbling in her own language and it took a moment for the Brit to remember to cast a translation spell. It was cheating yes, but she felt lazy.
"--Goodness, is it ever warm at your place?" Iberia shivered, but smiled jestingly all the same. Ierna blinked at her.
"But today is warm. You are too used to the sun, my dear cousin, you take it for granted!" she teased, then peered at the bundle in her friend's arms. "And who's this?"
Surprised, she looked down, then laughed. "Oh, I've been thinking about calling him Lusitia."
"After one of your tribes?"
"Mmm, I'm thinking that might be what caused him to appear." she nodded, then took her turn at inspecting the red head's bundle. "And this little one?"
"Albion." she smiled. Hearing his name, the baby blinked open his eyes, looking around at the stranger.
"Awww, hello little cutie!" Iberia cooed. "Who's tiny? You are! Look at those little hands!"
Bored with the attention, Albion's gaze switched to the bundle in the southern Nation's arms, which had also gained eyes and was looking right at him. The two stared. Noticing she was being ignored, Iberia looked down and promptly exploded with glee.
"Buhyooooooo!! Look, look, they're friends already! That's adorable!" she squealed. Ierna simply looked bemused.
"Please don't tell me you're trying to match-make already." she asked dryly, quirking a large eyebrow. The darker woman pouted.
"Don't rain on my rituals, I'm only having fun." she said sulkily, before an idea seemed to strike her. "Wait, do you think they'd be good together?"
Ierna's groan was cut off by yelling from over by the ships. Both mothers looked around to find Alba, Eire and Cymru climbing all over the boats, swinging off the rigging ropes, smacking each other with the paddles and generally causing utter chaos. The poor sailors tried to get them off, but each time the children evaded them. Some of the local Cornish tradesmen joined in, and the whole thing became a one-sided game of tag.
"Are you going to stop them?" Iberia asked, shifting the baby in her arms.
Ierna considered it. "How damageable is your cargo?"
-----
Notes (are longer than fic, I swear to god):
-There are three furthest back recorded names for the British Isles. Ierna, Brettanic and Albion were all written about by Aristotle (in that order). The Celts themselves had no method of writing, or at least not one that's survived to this day. It seems that Albion mainly referred to the main island of Great Britain, Ierna being Ireland, and Brettanic being the collection of islands scattered about the place, such as in the north, and places like the Isle of Man and the Channel Islands. I went with Ierna because it's the one I like best, and if we're talking Celtish origins then Ierna is where the action happened, or at least came from first. It's also pretty sounding.
- You'll notice the fic title is none of these names. "Brittannic" was the first way of writing "Britain" in.... Britian. Yeah standardised spelling didn't come about until late 1600s alright I can spell it how I want.
- You have no idea how much research went into this ancient name for Portugal thing before I found a useful site. The Lusitianians originally came down from the alps. Also, it's by looking at this tribe that I found out the Celts originally started out, way back in BC, down by the Iberian Peninsular, moving up across France and then across to Britain (or rather, Ireland, then across. Talk about your weird migration patterns.) which technically makes Iberia and Ierna cousins. Or sisters. We'll go with cousins because otherwise that makes EngPort a bit more awkward.
- Yes, Iberia remembers meeting bbAlbion when he sees her in Vincere. Those eyes are distinctive. Is she going to say anything in front of Rome and betray more information about her dead best friend? Not a chance.
- There will be more. When I can get a grasp on the chronology of this because my god is it clear as mud.
Characters: Mama Ierna (Ancient Britian), Alba, Eire, Cymru, Albion, Mama Iberia, Lusitia (bbPort)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Seriously obscure, old, murky ancient history. And bb Nations that rot teeth.
Summary: Once upon a time, before there were empires or ships that sail the seven seas, or established borders, there was a family.
The little hut on the mountain slope wasn't much of a shield from the cold, but it was out of the wind and enough to do by. Living in the valley would get them spotted and while she enjoyed being worshiped as a goddess, there were only so many fertility rituals she could be bothered with in one week. Retreating up here, especially when she was with child. Or rather had been. She smiled down at her newest child, tufts of blonde hair poking out of the blanket she'd wrapped him, eyes squeezed shut and asleep.
"He's ugly."
"You're ugly."
"You're uglier!"
"You're ugliest! Hah, I win!"
While her two eldest bickered, the third peered down at his new brother's face. "Mama, what're you gonna name him?" he asked, blinking green eyes at her. She pondered this.
"Albion."
-----
It took a few months for his eyes to turn green, but much longer to start growing.
"I still think he looks fat." her eldest son, Alba, folded his arms and peered at the baby. "And blotchy."
"You looked just like him when you were a baby." the eldest daughter, Eire, nodded, presumably in a manner she thought looked knowing and wise. "Only red headed."
"Did not."
"Did so."
"Did not."
"Did so, I was there and I helped."
This successfully grossed out the boy, having been privy to the gory details of childbirth twice now and liking it neither of those occasions. Eire grinned triumphantly.
"I don't see what's so gross about it. Lambs are born the same way." the middle child said, approaching the two with a little lamb in tow.
Alba looked defensive. "Yeah, and that's gross too. Your opinion doesn't count anyway Cymru. You're the little one."
"I'm not any more!" Cymru protested, pout forming. "You can't pick on me any more, I'm not youngest!"
The two redheads shared a look. "Until he learns to walk, we pick on you."
Cymru sighed and started running, his siblings giving chase and picking up rocks on the way. Their mother simply tucked her rust-red hair behind her ear and sighed resignedly.
"You're going to have an interesting life, I'll tell you that." she whispered to her baby, who blinked innocently back.
-----
The ocean smell always came before the sight; the tang of salt and wind and water. Seagulls called to each other, circling on wide white wings to spy food to snack on. Alba tried to knock them out of the sky with little pebbles he picked up along the road, but he was nowhere near strong enough. Eire had a scuffle with a gnome when it tried to steal her shawl, but other than that, the journey was uneventful. Cymru quickly became bored without his sheep.
"Mama, are we there yet?" he whined, pulling on her skirt. It wasn't as though he was tired from walking; it wasn't far to Cornwall. The kids were hardy too. Even Albion had only cried once the whole way, and that was when a stray rock from Alba had almost hit him. It would have been nice if he wasn't getting so heavy to carry.
"Only a little further sweetheart." she replied. Little shoulders slumped, disappointed.
Alba paused in his attempt to slaughter the local birdlife. "Who're we going to see anyway?"
The mother smiled. "Just a friend."
"Mama, mama, I see it! I see the ocean!" Eire squealed excitedly, running ahead, down the rocky slopes with Alba and Cymru close behind. The chalky ground crumbled under their feet, but the small bodies had good balance.
Along the shore were boats, clearly worn from the journey and full of tired sailors. Out of the largely male crew, there stood one woman. She was darker skinned than the approaching family, and also had a small child in her arms, her stomach round with late pregnancy. That she'd made the journey all the way here in this state was a feat in and of itself.
"Iberia!"
The woman turned, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Ierna!"
The two women shared a quick hug, minding their babies and Iberia's stomach. The children looked mildly surprised that their mother even had a name, as most children did. Iberia started babbling in her own language and it took a moment for the Brit to remember to cast a translation spell. It was cheating yes, but she felt lazy.
"--Goodness, is it ever warm at your place?" Iberia shivered, but smiled jestingly all the same. Ierna blinked at her.
"But today is warm. You are too used to the sun, my dear cousin, you take it for granted!" she teased, then peered at the bundle in her friend's arms. "And who's this?"
Surprised, she looked down, then laughed. "Oh, I've been thinking about calling him Lusitia."
"After one of your tribes?"
"Mmm, I'm thinking that might be what caused him to appear." she nodded, then took her turn at inspecting the red head's bundle. "And this little one?"
"Albion." she smiled. Hearing his name, the baby blinked open his eyes, looking around at the stranger.
"Awww, hello little cutie!" Iberia cooed. "Who's tiny? You are! Look at those little hands!"
Bored with the attention, Albion's gaze switched to the bundle in the southern Nation's arms, which had also gained eyes and was looking right at him. The two stared. Noticing she was being ignored, Iberia looked down and promptly exploded with glee.
"Buhyooooooo!! Look, look, they're friends already! That's adorable!" she squealed. Ierna simply looked bemused.
"Please don't tell me you're trying to match-make already." she asked dryly, quirking a large eyebrow. The darker woman pouted.
"Don't rain on my rituals, I'm only having fun." she said sulkily, before an idea seemed to strike her. "Wait, do you think they'd be good together?"
Ierna's groan was cut off by yelling from over by the ships. Both mothers looked around to find Alba, Eire and Cymru climbing all over the boats, swinging off the rigging ropes, smacking each other with the paddles and generally causing utter chaos. The poor sailors tried to get them off, but each time the children evaded them. Some of the local Cornish tradesmen joined in, and the whole thing became a one-sided game of tag.
"Are you going to stop them?" Iberia asked, shifting the baby in her arms.
Ierna considered it. "How damageable is your cargo?"
-----
Notes (are longer than fic, I swear to god):
-There are three furthest back recorded names for the British Isles. Ierna, Brettanic and Albion were all written about by Aristotle (in that order). The Celts themselves had no method of writing, or at least not one that's survived to this day. It seems that Albion mainly referred to the main island of Great Britain, Ierna being Ireland, and Brettanic being the collection of islands scattered about the place, such as in the north, and places like the Isle of Man and the Channel Islands. I went with Ierna because it's the one I like best, and if we're talking Celtish origins then Ierna is where the action happened, or at least came from first. It's also pretty sounding.
- You'll notice the fic title is none of these names. "Brittannic" was the first way of writing "Britain" in.... Britian. Yeah standardised spelling didn't come about until late 1600s alright I can spell it how I want.
- You have no idea how much research went into this ancient name for Portugal thing before I found a useful site. The Lusitianians originally came down from the alps. Also, it's by looking at this tribe that I found out the Celts originally started out, way back in BC, down by the Iberian Peninsular, moving up across France and then across to Britain (or rather, Ireland, then across. Talk about your weird migration patterns.) which technically makes Iberia and Ierna cousins. Or sisters. We'll go with cousins because otherwise that makes EngPort a bit more awkward.
- Yes, Iberia remembers meeting bbAlbion when he sees her in Vincere. Those eyes are distinctive. Is she going to say anything in front of Rome and betray more information about her dead best friend? Not a chance.
- There will be more. When I can get a grasp on the chronology of this because my god is it clear as mud.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-05-20 10:39 pm (UTC)And if I ever have a kid, I want Wales. Want him. And his bb sheep. yhsrtlarsyhraelaskjlr SO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!
We all know Eng/Port was love at first sight! (It's growing on me, damn you) Spain and Gallia vs. Port and Albion! EPIC STICK BATTLES!
Now.. to sleep =_=
no subject
Date: 2010-05-20 10:43 pm (UTC)Isn't he just precious? Poor thing, being the youngest until Albion. No wonder he likes him better.
Little babies just staring like o_o and bing, it's love!
*tucks you in and goes to bed herself*
no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 01:12 am (UTC)Iberia. Ierna. Uuuuh ♥ Iberia cooing at Albion d'awww.
Cymru and his sheep, that's true love. ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 08:47 am (UTC)Spain had to get his "buhyoooo" over cute things from somewhere. Even if he is currently inside the womb. I bet he can hear. >>
Picturing him wandering around with a little lamb is enough to make my teeth rot and fall out on their own.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 12:57 pm (UTC)Buhyo was propably his firest word <3
Uuuuuh, so cute If I didn´t have other 5 or 6 drawings in progress I'd draw that <3!
... But the cuteness let's make it 6 or 7 drawings in progress orz
no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-22 05:28 am (UTC)So that's how Spain got the "BUHYOO", huh? Aww. It runs in the family.
Now I have in my headcanon that Port goes BUHYOO too. Even if he does it in secret. And the Latin Americans too.
I want a Wales. He is so awww I don't even.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-22 08:54 pm (UTC)Poor Ierna, having to deal with those rowdy kids. They wreak so much havoc! Although that one-sided game of tag sounds Really fun. I want to join...