Hey, guys, I ask you to hang with me. I've never written in 3rd person omniscient before, but that seems to be what my muse is demanding this is in. -bashes head against desk- I hate my muse. So much. So much. He sucks. I also show I'm very, very American, and pull the "three strikes" thing. Yeah, I like baseball. I'm a teenage girl who would play all the time if any of her friends shared her love.
In case anyone was wondering, the little ones speak so formally because it's a translation from German.
History note: In 9 A.D., Roman and Germanic soldiers fought in The Battle of Teutoburg Forest. The Germans won, thus keeping Germania from becoming a conquest of the Roman Empire.
Also, fail earlier. I just found out Romans didn't discover the Germanic tribes until 102/101 B.C. Woops. I need to do more research before I make claims like that... ^^;
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"Father? Where are you going?"
Germania turned to his daughter. "Go back to sleep."
"No," she said stubbornly. "Not until you tell me where you're going."
Germania knew that if he didn't tell her, she would follow him, and if he did tell her, she would follow him. No amount of threats, glares or switches to her bottom could change that. "The Romans are trying to conquer Germania. They already have part of it.¹"
"Why?" she asked. "I thought Rome-"
"It isn't Rome, it is his people." Germania crouched, placing two fingers under his daughter's chin. "Prussia, being a nation means we represent our people, even if it means doing something we do not want to do. Yes, Rome and I are lovers, but his people want our land. We Germans want to keep our homeland safe. So, though we love each other, I have to fight, even injure, Rome. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father, I understand. But why? Why do we have to listen to our people if it hurts us?"
"It's the way of the world, Gilly."
The girl ran to her room, returning with a quiver over her shoulder and her bow in hand. "I'm coming with you, Father. I want to keep our home safe, too. I'm German. I don't want to be Roman."
Germania smiled at the girl's antics. "Wake your brother. He will come as well."
"He's not fighting, though.," Prussia said. "I won't let him. He could get hurt! And he doesn't have any people, so he can get killed."
"So can you."
"I'll stay in a tree where the Romans can't get me. You said yourself that I'm the best shot in the village. Father, I have to come. I-" She trailed off, and whispered. "Father, I'm German, too, and Germans are proud. If the Romans win, our pride will be all we have left, and who knows how long that will remain. If we lose that pride, we will be German no longer."
"Go wake your brother, Gilberta, and dress."
"Yes, Father."
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Prussia clung to the branches of a tall pine, shifting to completely situate herself in front of Ludwig. Tightening the grip her legs had on the limb she was straddling, she nocked an arrow to the bowstring. Pulling it back so the feathers brushed her cheek, she aimed let go. The shaft buried itself into the throat of a Roman soldier, and he fell back, either dying or already dead.
Prussia stared for a moment, thinking, 'I did that', before her stomach lurched, and she was violently sick. Ludwig reached over to pat her back, helping her into an upright position once again. Trembling, she fitted another arrow. The shot missed, due to our shaking hands, and she cursed in a way she'd heard the German warriors curse throughout the day.
It wasn't the first time that had happened. Every Roman that met their end from one of Gilberta's arrows brought on a wave of nausea, and Gilly wasn't vomiting food anymore. Soon, she'd just be dry heaving.
She scanned the battlefield, seeing a Roman raise his sword to attack a German Prussia had made friends with the day before, when they first arrived at the German camp. An arrow flew before Gilly even thought, burying into the Roman's chest. The German, a large man named Adalwin, looked towards the tree sheltering the children and grinned, shouting his thanks.
Prussia was too busy puking to hear.
The day and the battle drew to a close with the fighting at a tie. Germania, sweating and bleeding from a shallow slice in his side, strode the tree hiding the young ones.
"Father, careful. Gilly was vomiting." Ludwig warned. Germania looked down at his boots. Sure enough, the earlier contents of his daughter's stomach was several centimeters from his feet. Worry shot through his veins, and he reached up. Gilly scrambled down and jumped into his arms, shaking and clutching her bow like a lifeline.
"Father, I... I... I killed people." Prussia started sobbing into Germania's shoulder. Ludwig had scrambled from the branch that had been shielding him and his sister; he was now clinging to the hem of his father's tunic.
"Gilly, don't cry. No crying, yes?" the boy muttered around the thumb ever-present in his mouth.
The girl nodded. "Ye- yes." She wiped her blood-coloured eyes. "I'm sorry, Father."
The man ruffled her silver hair. It was longer than it had been when was younger, nearly brushing her waist. Balancing her on his hip, Germania reached down to take his son's hand. He lead both little ones to the German camp, where many soldiers helped the healers and midwives tend to the wounded while others prepared food and still more began patrols. Adalwin, the man who Gilly had saved earlier, noticed the small family.
"Ewald!" he yelled, calling out Germania's human name. "Ludwig! Gilberta!" He swung the younger child into his arms, taking in Prussia's tear-streaked face. "Gilly? What is wrong? Are you hurt? Who hurt you? They won't make it out of the battle tomorrow if they still live."
"I am not hurt," the girl assured. "Just... I do not know."
The human brushed her hair from her face, glancing at Germania. Their eyes met, and Adalwin led them to a nearby fire. "There is food here," he said, "so you can eat."
"I am not hungry. It will just end up on the ground." Gilly demurred softly.
She received a matching pair of worried looks.
"Try to keep it down, precious²," Germania whispered, tightening his grip on his daughter.
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Prussia had eaten little that night, and now lay wide awake in her bedding. She was in a separate bedroll from her little brother, something she had never remembered happening before. Ludwig slept soundly less than a meter away, but Gilly felt no better.
"Teuton? Come here, please."
Gilly slipped from her blankets, confused. Her father only called her "Teuton" – the name of the tribe she represented – when she was in trouble. Why was he using it now? She came to stand in front of Germania, who was sitting on top of his bedding.
He brushed a hand through her hair. "Teuton, I am very proud of you. This tribe we are protecting is yours, and you are doing well to defend your people." Prussia gasped quietly; she had never come to her grounds, staying with her father as he traveled tribe to tribe. Germania pressed on. "You did things a child should never have to do for the Germanic people without knowing the tribe, willing to fight for one of your siblings." He was referring, of course, to the personifications of the other tribes, Gilly's brothers and sisters. In fact, she'd seen Saxons and Lombards in camp...
When she mentioned her brothers, Germania told her, "They care about their little sister."
Prussia nodded slowly. After a moments pause, she crawled into her father's bedroll. Germania watched her, decided to let it pass. He slipped in with her, and the child pressed her face to her father's chest. He smelled of trees and smoke and the blood from earlier, along with something that was undeniably Germania, and the familiar scent drew Gilly into a restful sleep.
...line-break...
Prussia had seen Rome's expression as glanced at Ludwig and her hiding place, the tree Gilly was shooting from. When he'd begun striding towards it, she quickly helped her brother to a higher branch, reaching to grab her quiver where it was slung over a limb nearby... only to find it stuck. To free it, she'd have to climb down farther, but Rome was getting closer, and she wouldn't have time. The small branch bent farther and farther until finally breaking. Gilly began scrambling up the tree when a hand closed around her ankle.
Prussia looked down, eyes alighting on cold, gold-brown eyes. Rome, but not the Rome she knew. This Rome wanted nothing more that her land and people. She screamed, once, as the Empire pulled her from the safety of the tangle of branches and pine needles. Prussia struggled, yelling and kicking and thrashing.
"Father!" she cried. "Father!"
Germania whirled, and all fighting ground to a standstill. Soldiers of both side knew not to get involved in the fights of nations, and backed to the edges of the clearing. Germania took a deliberate step forward.
Strike one on Rome's part.
Prussia proved it to be unnecessary, at least for the moment. She'd drawn her dagger and twisted in the Roman's grip, lashing out blindly through fearful tears. The blade never touched flesh before Rome caught her wrist, twisting until the knife fell to the grass... and then even further. A soft crack came straight from the bone, and Gilly cried out in agony.
Strike two.
Germania was at her side in a moment, his sword swinging for Rome's throat. The Latin man barely dodged, roughly kicking the injured child to the side. She yelled in pain again, a choked sob ripping from her chest.
Strike three.
Rome found a very angry German on the other side of his sword. The Roman's shield lifted just in time to catch Germania's blade, but the other man's own shield met his ribs. He stumbled back, raising his sword to block one, two, three, four blows that followed one after another in quick succession. Rome couldn't find time to go offensive; he was too busy trying not to get skewered by a livid father.
Maybe going after Prussia when she had such a talented warrior as a father was a bad idea.
Prussia's lost dagger turned out to the losing element of the fight – well, Rome's losing element. The Roman tripped over the hilt stumbling slightly, but it was all Germania needed. By the time Rome had regained his balance, his sword was several meters away, and the tip of Germania's blade was pressed to the hollow his throat.
"Get out," Germania hissed. "Get out of my forest, out of my lands, and away from my children. And don't ever touch my daughter again."
The Romans couldn't retreat fast enough that day.
...line-break...
Well, end of chapter two!
1: Rome conquered small parts of Germania before the Battle of Teutoburg Forest.
2: Rough translation of the German word "Schatz", meaning – more specifically – treasure.
