Crystal's Notes: Omgsh an incredibly short beginning to a series of ficlets? x3 Yes, indeed! And there is reason. While doing my usual research for "My Country Still" I came upon interesting information of the guy named Agricola, who apparently changed the Roman-Britannia relationship for the better. x3 And I thought to myself, while reading through all the things he taught the Britons, saying, Y'know...that's really cute. Ironically enough, I could see Roman Empire teaching a very stubborn England all these things...
But I have no room for that in "My Country Still" because I doubt Alfred and them would have the patience to sit through every little lesson England learned. xD And besides, it'd take up way too many chapters!
So I thought to myself, Ficlet time!
And thus this was born. 8D This will be updated much quicker than any other story, mainly because it's a series of pointless little Roman Empire-teaching-England-lessons thingymajigg. I have a list of what the Romans actually did teach the Britons, so I'm gonna follow history to the best of my ability. xD And have fun with it at the same time!
Yay little Iggy! 8D
Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. Unfortunately. (wistful sigh)
Enjoy!
PS: Oh yes! To those who aren't familiar with the way I write things in "My Country Still." xDD Because the Roman Empire language was officially Latin, and among all the other research I already have to do to keep things somewhat historically accurate, I just keep the things everyone says in italics. xD Much simpler.
There! 8D NOW you may enjoy!
Agricola was one man Roman Empire was not sure whether or not he liked him at first. The man himself seemed far too compassionate for a military hero to be towards his conquered provinces. But no one could doubt that he was influential and powerful in his visions of a happy, thriving empire that raised equally happy, thriving subjects.
The man especially loved Britannia.
So much so that the instant he became governor of the province, he questioned the empire where 'the little boy' was, the one he had heard his mother, the real Britannia back in Rome, speak of so often and with such fondness in her eyes.
Really, it made Roman Empire sick. The boy-as well as his brothers-had been downright pains to try and take care of. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered with them. Little Italy back home was so much nicer, and friendlier, and complacent...heck, even the Gauls were not as bad, although they were, undoubtedly, very weird. What was he doing here, he found himself wondering, on this annoying, fearless, and fiery little island?
Oh yeah. Trying to run an empire.
He sighed as he neared the room in the back of his house in Londinium that little Britannia liked to hide in (from him) whenever he could. But really, he wondered sometimes why the boy even bothered. Roman Empire knew where he was hiding. So what was the point...?
Stepping into the unlit room, he pointed toward a corner hidden in complete shadow where the twerp usually curled himself up and glanced over to his governor, who appeared to be having trouble adjusting to the lack of light. He gave the man a few minutes, and then said for clarification with a shrug, "He hides himself in that corner most of the day. Does not ever come out except occasionally for food."
Agricola looked greatly surprised. "Have you ever tried forcing him out?"
The taller man gave his companion a look that said, 'I'm the freakin' Roman Empire. Of course I've tried to force him.' But then he said verbally, "He bites me when I do. So I decided-fine. What does it matter to me if he bores himself to death?"
Agricola gave him a knowing glare, a silent scolding. One that only a governor of his could get away with his life for having given. "And you wonder why he hates you so much."
"He's given me every right to hate him back, too!"
"That matters not," Agricola replied easily, dismissively. As if Roman Empire's feelings were petty compared to that of the little child's he was now in charge of. He took a careful step forward in the darkness towards the corner where the little one was apparently hiding. "If you want to rule a long-lasting empire, better to gain respect from your provinces than make them your enemies, no?"
Roman Empire sighed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly even as he skeptically watched the governor. "That's not the typical Roman way."
"Perhaps not. But it very well could soon be." Agricola grinned to him over his shoulder, before coming to a stop in front of some barrels that looked suspiciously arranged to be a blockade of sorts from any unwanted outside forces. The man, chuckling to himself at the sight, bended over and placed his hands on his knees as he spoke in hushed, soothing tones to the barrels. Beckoning. "Hello. Are you little southern Britannia, by any chance?"
There was silence for a long moment. Then he heard a very quiet, meek, "...go away..."
It made Agricola's smile grow just the slightest. Ah. So the little one was there, somewhere. "I would like to meet you, if that is all right. My name is Agricola. I am your new governor."
There was a change in the atmosphere. No longer was it so frigid and unfriendly; suddenly it became curious, still a little tense, but not so shut-off. The boy dared to speak up again. "You seem different than the others."
The 37-year-old man chuckled. "I like to think I am." He tried to make his tone as warm as possible-as inviting to the child as he could be.
"Is...is Roman Empire with you?"
Agricola looked over his shoulder, seeing the tall, strong, strapping silhouette of the empire himself standing in the open doorway. He nodded, answering quietly, "Yes. But he will not hurt you."
"You lie."
The new governor bit back a sigh. The conviction with which the child hissed at him was nearly overwhelming. Just how bad had the two's relationship gotten, he couldn't help but warily wonder? "He will not hurt you," he repeated carefully, firmly. Still comforting, but with more of the military commanding tone he had received from years of war. "As your governor, I will not let him."
A calculating silence. Tentative. The air hinged on what the child would decide, teetering dangerously over either side of the picket fence. But eventually, he heard the boy finally murmur, "Are you...sure?"
Agricola nodded even though the child most likely would not see it. "I am sure."
"How can I trust you?"
Hmm. Good question. The governor peered back over his shoulder to his empire's face, but Roman Empire only shrugged at the unasked request for help, leaving the middle-aged man to his own devices. Aggravatingly enough. He sighed, turning back to the boy. "I cannot fully prove to you my capabilities over him. After all, I am no emperor. But I am your governor, and you are my charge, and I assure you, little one, that I will do everything in my power to make things right between us. To make you proud to be one of us."
"To make me proud to be a Roman...?" It was a shy question of clarification.
"Yes."
There was an angry shuffle behind the barrels, from which a louder, stubborn exclamation of, "I will never be proud to be a Roman! You cannot make me!"
Behind him, he heard Roman Empire take an angry step forward, as if about to punish the child for such a statement, but Agricola quickly held up a hand to stall him. He could not allow any more physical harm to befall this boy. That would not help matters at all.
So instead, he simply cleared his throat, trying again. "Listen to me, Britannia," he called quietly, pausing only minimally. "I know my previous emperors have not been kind to you. I know that I myself, in fighting my battles against your people, have not been kind to you. But I assure you that I will not hurt you any longer. You have my word."
"But I cannot trust you!"
"From today on, you may," he muttered in patient response. "I seek only to teach you our ways. To show you our culture-"
"-and to get rid of my own?"
Agricola shook his head. "Not completely. It is tradition that you are allowed to continue your religious practices, little Britannia. I will not strip that much away from you. But I will show you our inventions. Our buildings, our traditions...everything about the Romans that may help you and your people prosper."
There was no response to that, so Agricola took the silence as a suggestion for him to continue. "It is all for the good of you, Britannia."
There was a scoff; a sound of doubt from the behind the barrels. "You mean Roman Empire, right?"
A shrug. "Yes. But also for you." He paused to let that sink in. "We are not your enemy anymore, little southern Britannia. Although we wish to expand our empire, we no longer mean you-or your brothers-any harm."
A tentative silence. Once again, the child must have been thinking, and very carefully, too, for it took him a while to finally reply, "What about...my people who are slaves?"
"As you all adapt to Roman culture, there will no longer be the need for inferiorities. We will all be equal under Roman law." Agricola smiled warmly. "Which, we will teach you."
"But that does not...seem entirely fair."
"Perhaps to you, it does not," Agricola concurred patiently. "But it will in time, if you allow us to teach you our ways. Are you willing to give us a chance?"
There was a long, uncertain silence. Agricola could feel his back muscles begin to complain from having been hunched over for such a long time, and with a wince, he straightened up just slightly to crack them. But if he had not been paying such close attention, he almost would have missed it, the tiny little consent the young province finally gave him.
"A-all right. I...I will listen. But nothing more, okay?"
Agricola grinned. It was a start.
