[Scotland] A Forbidden Friendship

[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #ced689; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; padding-right:8px;]Gallia, the name that Rome frequently called him, was chosen to accompany the old man to his Providence of Britannia. He hadn’t wanted to go, but who could really say no to an empire? The others in Rome’s household knew what it meant to be taken by him somewhere—he wanted to keep a closer eye on them, that he didn’t trust to leave them alone. So annoying. The trip was long, but Rome was relentless with their pace. He wanted to see his ‘darling Britannia’ after all. That term of endearment made Gallia laugh (though never in front of the empire), because the blond child that he was referring to was anything but. Albion, as he still wanted to be called even after Rome had christened him otherwise, hated the Roman Empire more than anyone Gallia had ever met. After making it into the territory, Rome had switched his attentions to Britannia, giving Gallia a little bit of breathing space. He felt a little guilty using the child as a means of escape, but he had no other choice. Rome was suffocating him with his presence back at home. He needed his time, too. Young Gallia sighed as he leaned against the famous wall that separated Roman Britannia from the supposed ‘barbarian’ tribes to the North. He had been told time and again that he wasn’t allowed to be here, but the young Roman Providence was feeling deviant today. Ever since his own mother had disappeared, Rome had taken a much greater interest in him, and Gallia despised it. Kicking a loose stone, he wandered along the wall, his eyes searching for a familiar area where he knew he could climb much easier than other areas. Then, he heard someone scuffling behind him. ”Where are you going? You’re not supposed to be here,” came the voice of Britannia from behind. Gallia turned to look at the tiny providence. He was still so small. Blue eyes softened as he looked upon the childlike appearance. Reaching forward, he ruffled his blond head of hair, messing it up more than it already was. The boy narrowed his eyes before hitting his hand away, not liking the juvenile affection. Gallia chuckled, though he himself currently looked around twelve, Britannia still looked ever so young—at least six years if humans were to give him a number. ”Run to him if you want, little rabbit… I don’t really care if you do,” Gallia smiled, teasing. He always liked calling him that, because he was always such a quick little thing. But, as usual, the name made Britannia’s scowl deepen. ”…like I would say anything to him…” Britannia muttered. Shrugging, Gallia sighed softly before walking back to his point of interest at the wall, about ready to find his footholds where the stone jutted out a little more than others. He was about ready to haul himself up higher, but was stopped by a small hand, clutching at his cloak. Surprised, Gallia looked down at the sight of Britannia’s scruffy blond head. The small providence was averting his miserable gaze, trying to hide the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. ”Please…“” he whispered harshly enough so that Gallia could hear him, the sound making his heart twitch. ”Take me with you…” Gallia was silent for a moment, watching the little boy sniffle before hurriedly wiping the tip of his nose on his sleeve. Rome would have chastised him for showing sadness like this. Unlike Gallia, whose legs were long enough to make the climb, Britannia was truly trapped and had been for years. Feeling the sharpness of sympathy for the little one, Gallia gripped Britannia’s shoulder gently. ”You can’t, little one. Rome has eyes for only you since our arrival… He’ll notice immediately if you leave… I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but could you distract him for me?” This time, Britannia forced a smile as his hands removed the last of the sadness from his face as he responded. ”I can do that. He’s always yelling at me for something." Gallia laughed as he squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ”Good. I’ll see you soon.” He didn’t look back, though he knew that the other blond was retreating as soon as he heard Britannia’s soft footfalls. After some time, he managed to perch at the top, keeping his bow slung over his shoulder, as he worked his way down the other side. Gallia was able to look at the scenery when he was safe on solid ground once more. He took one last look at the wall before taking off at a full sprint, straight into the foliage, looking for Caledonia. The two had met before and it was a kinship that Rome would never allow. The thought made Gallia grin as he ran harder. [/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]time: 763 BC tags: Scotland notes: Rye is responsible for the Britannia dialogue. I asked for that part, so credit for those goes to the Ryesters. XD credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #ced689; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; padding-right:8px;] The day was warm, and for a rarity, there was hardly a cloud in the sky. It was the perfect day for a bath. The red headed youth knew where to find all the best bathing places, the lochs that were unbeknowest men, where the magic of the land was still gushing pure and untouched. Of course, he rarely shared this information with others. He liked his privacey, and kept the knowledge of these lochs a secret. Caledonia. That was the name the invaders had given him. Part of him scoffed at it. Who was this man, Rome, to presume he could give him a name? As if he owned him, as if these lands were his to call as he wished. Yet, at the same time, he liked it. Caledonia. Clearly, it had been given to them from the name of the powerful Caledonii tribe. And to him, it was a sign. A sign that Rome acknowledged that he could not be conquered as a part of his Brittania, and with that acknowledgement, a fear of what he could do, and had already done, to him. He had known from the first second he had seen the man, that Rome could not be trusted. And it was that mistrust that had kept him free. Albion had been the first to be taken. Little Albion was too small to defend himself, and tried as he had, his youngest brother had slipped from his fingers. Cymru had fallen second, as the Romans continued their march. Naturally, they thought, he too would be easy prey. How wrong they had been. They sent legion after legion, and rarely did a single man return. Those who did survive did not do so out of luck, but because he wanted a message sent. That this was his land, and Rome could not have it. The legions slowly stopped coming. Some brave souls managed to escape Rome's clasp, fleeing into his protection. It was they that told him of his new name, Caledonia. Occasionally, one would come that mentioned him as 'Pict-Land', though he did not know what that was supposed to mean. Rome feared him. He feared the savage boy of the north. That was why he built his wall. Thinking of it brought a savage sort of glee to the boy. The wall was not made to keep Cymru and Albion in. It was made to keep him out. To protect Rome and his precious legions from the savage beast they knew as Caledonia. He had other names, of course. Some called him the North of Albion, sometimes simply "The North". Many called him Alba, and this was the name that he had liked most. But to Rome and his dogs, he would always be Caledonia. He did not want them to call him by his proper names. He did not want their beauty tainted by filthy Roman lips. He hated Rome, and all who served him. Caledonia shook his head free of such deep thoughts, shedding the many colored hides that he wore. He stood at the shore of the lock, his feet sinking into the soft earth, the grass tickling his feet. He savored the freedom of it all. This was his land. It would always be his. With that self-reassurance, he dove in with a loud splash. The cold rush of water felt exhilerating. Emerging from the water, he shook the water from his fiery red hair, then laid back, floating lazily in the water. His peace was not long lasting, however. Footsteps reached his ear, crushing every leaf and snapping every twig. Whoever it was was certainly no skilled hunter, but that did not mean it was not also a foolish Roman. Caledonia waded closer to the shore, towards his clothes and his weapons. His bow, his arrows, his knife. Whoever it was, if he was a threat, Caledonia would kill him without so much as a thought. [/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]time: 763 BC tags: France notes: Sheesh, this was mostly one huge monologue. I actually had to go back and throw that first paragraph in there. Looks kind of struggled, doesn't it? credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #ced689; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; padding-right:8px;]Gallia had been under Roman rule for several centuries now. Before the old man, however; he remembered the duel invasions while he was quite small by the Cimbri and the Teutons—Germanic tribes that he had very little liking for. They spoke strangely and ate and did very strange things. Soon after, of course, they were subsequently defeated by Rome, who was quick to take the little blonde providence into his household. He called him Gallia, though he seemed to also share the name with two other small providences who had no recollection of their true names prior to the invasion of Rome. It had been so long since the invasion, Gallia could only recollect how so many of his people had died and around the same number had been enslaved. He essentially grew very slow in the following centuries, being submerged in Roman culture, learning his ways and speaking his tongue. Gallia had a difficult time understanding how the old man could continue smiling in such a mild manner while commanding fierce legions. Others sometimes wondered if the Empire was slowly losing his mind. In either case, it was of little concern to Gallia as he wandered even further away from the wall. He didn’t want to think of who he was leaving behind for the time being, but instead wanted to focus on the brief moments of freedom as he ventured further into the wilderness. He knew of Caledonia... and Rome’s odd fear for the savage boy, constantly telling his providences terrifying accounts of the savage in hopes of keeping them from venturing beyond the wall. Obviously, Gallia took very little heed of Rome’s warnings, as he had been over the wall nearly every visit that they had made. He was quite familiar with it and knew the best places to climb. The wild north held more fascination than fear for him… and it always has. At the moment, Gallia was wearing his usual Roman clothing—a simple hitched-up tunic with marks that indicated that he was owned by another—specifically Rome, of course. None of the providences were allowed to dress in anything above their station… and based on what they were allowed, the Empire obviously thought somewhat lowly of them. Gallia was also currently wearing calcei, shoes that encased the entire foot, usually for outdoor wear, though he oftentimes preferred to go without them. Gallia was aware that he was making a tremendous amount of noise, but part of it was purposeful. He wanted to be seen—to be found by the other. The boy slowed when he noticed the sound of water, probably a nearby bank. Calm blue eyes scanned the area as he drew closer to the water. Others would probably call him a fool for running so carelessly into the wild north—for being fascinated with Caledonia. To the blonde, he was a vivid, enigmatic distraction. Any diversion from the dull misery beneath Rome’s authority was well worth the risk. A small thrill rushed through Gallia's body upon noticing the brief sight of vivid red hair between the leaves of nearby greenery. He very nearly called out to him in his own tongue, but barely stopped himself, remembering the little issue of eclectic communication between them. Sighing heavily, he moved forward, rustling past the thick foliage until he reached the edge of the bank. He felt something get tangled in his hair in the process and his fingers confirmed a few leaves and a small twig knotted in his strands as he tried to pull them out. His eyes raked over Caledonia in all of his hide-less glory (so to speak.) Nudity was fairly common among Roman men, so Gallia wasn’t in any way aghast by it. His first response was to smile at him—eager and genuine. [/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]time: 763 BC tags: Scotland notes: Eh, sorry this took so long. XD No worries. I liked reading yours. credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style]

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