The quiet somberness of the evening lulled through the victorian house. Inside the bedroom, a young man sat with his little brother.
"Engwand." The small boy cooed, his large cerulean eyes eagerly glancing forward "Another, another! I wanna hear another story!"
Giving a light chuckle, the older man carefully straightening the covers around his young subject. "All right, all right America - one more story and one only. After that, you go straight to bed. Alright?"
"Yay, more stories!" Squealed the child, a gentle smile forming upon his lips. "Make it a good one, please."
"Well, what would you like to hear about, America?"
"Something cool, with fighting, action and adventure!" the younger gleamed, a large grin forming upon his lips.
England thought for a moment, pondering over his options. "Something exciting, huh? How bout the tale of King Arthur?"
America pouted. "Aww, but you told me that two days ago! I don't wanna hear it again!"
"Hmm, how bout the story of Robin Hood?"
"You told me that last week! I want something new!"
"Well alright then." the older man furrowed his brows, pondering again. And then the perfect idea hit him. "Would you like to hear a story about a hero?"
The young boy's face immediately lit up with a nod of approval.
Laughing, the Englishman patted the boy's head. "Atta boy! I know you're going to love this one!"
"Yes, do tell!" America squealed, his voice filled with unwavering enthusiasm.
"Centuries ago, when I, myself was a child - much around your age." he began. "The nation of England was still vastly divided run by territories rather than governed by a single body. But amongst all the mess, tryanny, and anarchism, an unlikely hero would arise." he paused to clear his throat before beginning again. "Her name was Boudica, the great, fearsome warrior queen of the Britons. Though her perseverance would prove to be unsuccessful, it was her strength and martyrism that made her the heroic figure of the era."
...
The mass scattering of bodies laid on the ground, staining the dirt crimson red. The never ending clashing of swords against shields and armor filled the air.
"My lady." a young soilder bowed. "I'm afraid the Roman's have defeated our second wave. They're quickly advancing upon us."
Boudica cringed. They had gone in with 10,000 men and now they were down by the hundreds. Frowning, she stared at the frail sword in her hands. "It seems technology can out beat quantity any day, my boy. There is not much to do but wait."
"But my lady, if you stay here, you'll be captured and killed!" the solider protested. "You must run and get out of here while you still can!"
"Then so be it. I'd rather die in honor than to live in vain."
The man nodded, a look of sympathy upon his face. "You are true to your words indeed my lady. You have the virtue and strength of more than 1000 men combined. The Britons are forever in your debt." He bowed, kneeling on on the floor before quickly scrambling up and running in the opposite direction. "I bid you the best of luck with your battles."
She nodded, gaze completely focused on the scene before her eyes. The Roman solders, dressed neatly with their vintage metal armor had her completely surrounded every corner. She could no longer turn back, even if she wanted to.
Taking her sword out of it's hilt, she raced towards the heat of the battle.
She could see him, the Roman commander upfront relaxing in his chariot with an ignorant smirk upon his face. She gripped the sword even more tightly in her hands, her knuckles turning white from the force. If only she could nail him - then there was still a sliver of a chance she could turn the battle in her favor.
She lunged forward, hoping to overtake the man by force. She moved swiftly, but unfortunately, it didn't seem to be fast enough. Almost immediately upon het attack, the man sensed her presence, completely blocking her ambush with a quick wave of his shield. "So you're the great leader, Boucida, huh? We finally meet face to face." He sneered, under his heavy mask.
Grimacing, she lunged again. That scum was disgusting. She could feel his pungent fish breath against her skin. Her move was blocked again.
Though she could easily say she disliked the guy, his skills were utmost noteworthy.
And they engaged in their battle, metal clinking against metal, struggling to pierce through each other's armor.
The man stood firm. With one powerful swing of his sword, Boucida felt a horrible throbbing pain against her head as she pummeled straight to the ground.
She rolled on the ground, her vision blurred. The force had knocked her helmet right off her head.
The man grinned, his eyes looking hungrily as if he was just presented by a huge feast. "So you're a woman, huh? Well that makes it all better." He have a loud chuckle. "How bout this woman. I can kill you right now, but I'm not gonna. How bout you come home with me and be my 33rd mistress and I'll spare your life today?"
She gagged, feeling the first hints of bile rising to her throat. "I'd rather die a thousand deaths, then to be enslaved to he likes of you!"
The man wouldn't take no for an answer. His eyes flared up in rage, lifting his fists up and giving her a good punch in the nose. Quickly he binded her arms and legs together, laughing at his newfound trophy. "Now you just stay here like a good little girl while I finish off the rest of your pathetic army!"
She coughed, sputtering and wiping the blood off against the shoulder of her armor. Her hands were forced tightly together, but the man had just given her enough leway to move her arms. With careful precision, she reached into her belt grabbing a small black vial. Grinning, she had never been more happy to have her beloved potion with her. The glass was slippery, as she tried to keep it still between her arms. After a couple seconds of struggling, she successfully brought it to her lips. Subsequently, she ripped the cork off with her bare teeth before drinking the mixture down in one gulp.
She laughed as the burning poison filled her veins. "I'd rather die a thousand deaths than to be surrounded by the likes of you!" She hollered again. Closing her eyes, she allowed the poison to take atoll, feeling her strength rapidly fading. Yes, she would rather die a hero than to live in shame.
...
America frowned, with a look of wonder and grief. "So she dies at the end, right?"
"I'm afraid she does, lad." England nodded. "But Boudica is right. A true hero isn't someone who wins battles all the time but rather someone who stands firm, no matter how great the opposition and never backs out, no matter how difficult the situation."
"She protected you well, didn't she?" America looked up, tilting his head lightly in question. "Would you consider her a hero, Engwand?"
"Yes, she did indeed. Her heroism is still admired by much of the English today."
America smiled, looking ever so joyful. "When I grow up, I wanna be just like Boudica! I want to fight off the Roman soldiers and protect Engwand from harm!" He exclaimed enthusiastically, waving his fists wildly in the air.
England chuckled, the older man's lips had formed into a light smile as well. "Perhaps you may as well one day, lad. But right now, it's time for my little one to sleep."
The boy snuggled deep into his covers, already feeling himself being overtaken by sleep. "Goodnight Engwand. I love you" he mumbled.
"Love you too, America. Sweet dreams."
OoOoO
Phew! I'm not used to writing gen/family stories, but this was a fun and interesting challenge. I'm not too fond of this myself, personally, but I hope this was written to your satisfaction, lisacreature!
And I'm terribly sorry if I just butchered English history. I knew none of this before I looked it up on wikipedia,
Boudica was a real historical figure around 60 AD. She defended England from the Roman invaders but was unfortunately defeated.
And of course, if you would like me to do a request for you like this, feel free to message me! Just be sure to include a much details as possible!