Hey Guys, I know I should really get to work on other stuff but this idea was bugging me I figured why not, its short and rather simple. It is part one of a series of three I have in mind so I hope you read all three, when I get them up. Enjoy and please review.
When I was little my mother hid me from Rome. She told me once when I asked why that it was because women were not seen as equals to the men in Roman society and were looked down on or treated as property. She told me she wanted better for me than she had for herself and so I agreed to dress as a boy and hide myself from Rome when he finally came to take me away. Mother didn't last long after that as he lands were absorbed into the Roman Empire, I cried when I learned of her death.
After that I worked diligently to hide the fact I was a girl and as time passed I became more and more comfortable with my disguise. I made friends with a cousin of mine that also was staying in Rome's house, Spain. His mother, Iberia, was sister to my mother, Gaul. We would team up to pick on the little Italies, Rome's grandsons. We did it out of spite for what had been done to our mothers under Rome, angry that they had it so good when we were treated little better than slaves. Eventually Christianity began to take a strong foothold in the empire, it spelled the end for Rome.
When I first began hearing about Christianity it gave me hope that I could drop my disguise and truly be myself. That hope was dashed though when I learned that women were second class citizens in their eyes, little more than breeders to help spread the religion through a bloodline. I continued to hide myself and went north. I found a shore there and I could just make out land across the expanse. Curious I took a boat there and found an island, a large island but still and island. It was strange, I realized the Romans had come here but hadn't been there long before the empire fell. I heard shouting and crying and found my way through a forest to where a pair of older boys were picking on a smaller boy. The older boys looked to be about my age. I rushed over, grabbing a branch on the way, and smacked the two boys away from the smaller boy. We exchanged harsh words before they left and I turned to the small boy, offering my hand and a smile. I asked him if he was alright and he nervously replied. I thought he was just absolutely adorable.
I continued to come and visit the small boy, I learned his name was Britain, and we would spend hours and sometimes days together playing. One day I came to play with him and found him sulking. When I asked him what was wrong he snarled and spat at me. He shouted out that I was just using him so I could be like Rome. The smile I had had up till then dropped at the accusation. I would never be like Rome, I hated the man for all the suffering he had inflicted. After that we never were able to get along. Our two lands went to war, a war that lasted generations. Later I learned it was called the Hundred Years War.
This war nearly broke me. Britain had captured me after one of the battles and had drunk himself into a stupor for his victory. I had no idea what he was like when he was drunk to the point of blacking out but I soon learned as he attacked me, ripping my clothes. He mumbled about how I was so pretty for a man, not even noticing as I was stripped that I was no man. He raped me that night. It was the first time I laid with a man, really the only time. When morning came I covered myself and fled, later I learned he didn't remember that night and I was able to relax. That is until I found out I was with child. Panic gripped me and I told my boss I was going into hiding so the English could not find me and claim France as their own. He agreed and I fled. I 'disguised' myself as a woman and hid in a small country village in Arc. I went to the church and told them of my plight, my husband having been slain in battle with the English leaving me with child. They took me in and provided for me. I found a young farming couple that was barren and asked them if they would take in my child so they would have a family that was whole. The lies ate away at me as they became more and more easily said with each day. Eventually I gave birth and left my daughter, Jeanne, with the couple. I told the priest of the church that I would leave for a convent to pledge my life to God before leaving to return to Paris and my old life. I went back to hiding as a man and heard nothing of my daughter until 15 years later.
I heard whispers at first of a peasant girl that was fighting the English in God's name. As her victories grew so did he reputation and I learned her name, Jeanne de Arc. I must have paled at learning who had been receiving the visions of fighting the English and was on the crusade to free France from them. I sought her out and met with her. I could not tell her who I was other than I was her nation. When she learned of this she pledged her loyalty to me. I stayed at her side, I did not try to stop her. I could not for that would be rather hypocritical of me. But as with all good things it eventually came to an end. Jeanne and I were captured by the English. England, as he was going by now, laughed in my face and told me how he was going to make me watch as his men burned my little French whore. I struggled, I screamed, I nearly told him the truth, that it was his daughter he was condemning. But I held my tongue. To say that would be to make Jeanne's death in vain, for I had no doubt that even if he learned of her lineage he would still burn her and he would fight twice as hard to keep me subservient to him. I was forced to watch, tears streaming down my face, as she was burned. She never screamed as she was slowly killed, standing tall and proud even as the flames ate away at her. I let our gazes meet and I know that in that moment she learned the truth between us, somehow. Perhaps it was a last vision from God, but whatever it was I saw her smile at me and apologize for causing me such pain.
My hatred for the English increased tenfold after that, so much so it affected my people and we were able to drive them out.
Years passed and my hatred for England remained strong. I could never forgive him for taking from me all that he had. In my eyes he could never repent for his sins.