Our modern, stressed and shattering Liet is somehow switched with his medieval self (Tony? is that you? or maybe Britannia Angel?). You know, the guy that kick-Teutonic-ass. Of course- this is causing a lot of confusion to the world-and mostly to medieval!Liet himself ("America? Who is that? Never heard of him."- "Prussia, how many times do I have to kick your ass away so you get it and leave us alone?!"-"what do you mean I have brothers?!" and so on.)
[Author's notes: 1. Title is a line from the Lithuanian national anthem (see http://www3.lrs.lt/home/w5_viewer/statiniai/seimu_istorija/w5_show-p_r=4056&p_d=49249&p_k=2.html for full lyrics). 2. Vodka has about ten times as much alcohol by volume as beer. 3. The Lithuanian language has changed surpisingly little over the centuries; medieval Lithuanian and modern are far more muually comprehensible than, say, Middle English and modern English, or medieval and modern Polish. ]
*
Using magic this way was a blow to his pride, but Lithuania figured five years of waking up screaming at unpredictable intervals was long enough to make pride irrelevant.
Okay, ingredient six. He squinted at England's messy handwriting. 12 teaspoons rosemary, okay, he could do that. As it turned out he didn't have quite twelve teaspoons, once he ground it up, but close enough. It went in. Olive oil - no amount specified, which must mean it wasn't an active ingredient, so he just poured in a few spoonfuls. Last ingredient: alcohol. I use brown ale, but anything works, the scribbled note said. Given the earlier warning about smell, he used vodka, and measured out a careful three-hundred milliliters.
The concoction smelled like - well, like strong vodka, with a faint whiff of ash. He swirled it around as the directions said, widdershins and chanting under his breath, then set it down to steep while he washed the supper dishes.
With that done he closed his eyes and focused, for once, on the bad dreams, took a long hard sip. It left him coughing and gasping, but he didn't spit any out. The second swallow was easier, and the ones after that hardly burned his throat, and by the time he finished the goblet his head was spinning. According to the recipe, it was supposed to do that. He made his shaky way to bed, and managed to climb between the covers before the black veil drifted over his vision.
Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [2/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 20:16:54 UTC
"What? Don't look at me. This is not my fault."
Of course, everyone kept looking at England.
"Look, the recipe I gave him doesn't even take memories away! Just suppresses them. I use it all the time! Good god, so does France!" France twitched, and England went pale as he realized that probably wasn't something his neigbor wanted spread around, but it was too late. He plowed on. "Look, I don't know what the hell happened to him but if you lot would just stop shouting for a bit we could maybe ask some sensible questions like - Lithuania! What's the last thing you remember before you woke up!"
Lithuania cast Poland a confused look. Poland sighed, and repeated in Lithuanian: "He wants to know the last thing you remember before you woke up."
"I'm not sure," Lithuania answered, in the same language. He rubbed at his temple - okay, that mannerism either hadn't gone away or it hadn't changed in, well, however long. "I remember it was a hot day, and I hadn't been working, but i was still so hot I went down to the cellar to sleep. I think you had been there before I went to sleep. We drank mead - we were celebrating something." He frowned. "Lenkija - Polska, who are these nations? Why did you bring me here?"
"Well, England's here because I think it has to have been magic. And France is here because he picked up England's phone, and your brothers are here for moral support."
"But I have no brothers -"
Poland answered that in what sounded like rapidfire Polish, but England was too distracted to listen, because France had just poured the rest of his hot coffee down the back of England's shirt. He hissed and grabbed his knees and the worst part was that he couldn't scream out loud, because it wasn't boiling coffee, just warm, and screaming would mean someone would ask what the matter was and France would probably tell them. Damn, damn, damn. And he'd waited just long enough it make it seem like he wasn't going to do anything. England took a deep breath and hissed, "What the fuck, frog?"
"Merely indulging in a spot of negative reinforcement, dearest. Also, your coffee is truly abominable." France waved a hand amiably and leaned back in his chair. "Carry on."
"It's your fucking coffee, this is your house!"
"And if you had not insisted on making it, it might have been palatable, but we all know your skill with recipes - "
Estonia coughed before the argument could get any louder, or whatever it was that was making Poland and Lithuania's discussion involve so much handwaving could erupt into an actual argument. He had long since perfected the art of politely coughing in a way that split your eardrums. Latvia shot him a desperate look of gratitude. "England! This potion of yours, if it works normally, what exactly are the effects?"
"It suppresses memories. Doesn't erase the memories, only . . . makes them less relevant." He had to hunt a bit for the Lithuanian words. It was always easier to speak your own language, even if you understood someone else's. "Someone who has taken it should be unable to recall whatever they took it for unless they deliberately think about it. The memories will not spring to mind if they see something related, or as dreams."
"Hmm. And is it reversible?"
"It wears off eventually." England sighed and put his head in his hands. "Norway's recipe, really, I just modified it. Why didn't you call Norway? Aren't you guys all buddy-buddy with the Nordics?"
"I tried! But I kept getting his voicemail. Tell you later," he added, at Lithuania's confused look. He took a deep breath. "Okay, how long does it take to wear off? If it's working normally. I mean, maybe we can just wait it out."
Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [3/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 20:17:43 UTC
England bit his lip and suddenly found the interesting tiled border on the other side of France's kitchen very interesting indeed. "A year or two, but that's hardly relevant, it can't have been the potion! Look, I gave him the recipe at the Olympics, that was weeks ago. Why didn't he lose his memory weeks ago -"
"A year?" Lithuania suddenly thumped a fist on the counter. That was new. "How am I supposed to go on like this for a year? What if there's a battle?"
Latvia mumbled into his coffee cup, "Well, I could maybe look after things for you? If I had to? There's not going to be anything you have to do, really, I mean your government's pretty stable and um. There are parlimentary elections coming up, but . . . "
"Let's make that our last resort," Estonia cut in, and reached across Latvia for the sugar bowl. "England has a point, however. Do we know it was the potion?"
"We totally do," Poland declared, "look, he has the recipe still in his pocket, you don't just keep sticking stuff in there, like some people, right, Liet?" He stuck his hand in the pocket of Lithuania's jeans to extract it, which Lithuania would normally not have blinked at, and which right now, caused him to yelp and wrench Poland's hand away. Poland looked more surprised than hurt, and Lithuania looked a little bt - not ashamed, really, but cringing nontheless. After a few seconds silence Lithuania reached into his own pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. A familiar piece of paper. England snatched it from his fingers, although he was careful not to get too close. That wariness of touch, that's something they all had, once upon a time.
But it was the recipe, and was the right recipe in his own handwriting - okay, he'll admit his handwriting is messy - salt, half a teaspoon rosemary olive oil, three hundred milliliters beer - even the chant is right. "Look," he said, "this is the right recipe. If he actually followed this, nothing bad should have happened."
Estonia leaned back, as much as was possible on his barstool. "I think we can safely attribute it to magical causes, whatever the precise reason," he declares, which is a very nice and diplomatic way of saying He must have fucked up the recipe that doesn't actually involve accusing Lithuania aloud. "England, do you know of a direct antidote to your memory-suppresant potion?"
"No. Never needed one." He bites his lip. Latvia twitches and looks at Lithuania out of the corner of his eye. Lithuania's eyes are narrowed, and he's rubbing his temple again, and Poland's hand is hovering in the vicinity of his shoulder without actually touching.
France shoved his empty coffee cup away from him. It skitterd over the counter and beaches itself on the edge of the stove with a ceramic clang. "I suggest we try to contact Norway again, if it's his recipe. In the meantime, I am going to have a cigarette. Please try not to get any blood on my kitchen floor while I'm gone."
The silence after he stalked off was broken by Lithuania's cautious, "What's a cigarette?"
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [3/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 21:13:26 UTC
Op Anon is so happy!
I'm so glad someone finally is filling this! My first fill, yay! ^___^ *going to bake Author!Anon some cookies*
So far I really like it, and also it seems you know what you are writing about on the medieval Lithuania topic, which is absolutely awesome, too. I can't wait for more!
reCaptcha says: the accuracy. I think it likes your fic, too!
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [3/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 22:02:15 UTC
I'm so glad someone is filling this. This anon hopes for some LietPol and FrUk. Also having Norway involved would just be to awesome.
I agree with the following anon that you seem to have done reserach on the topic which makes me really happy since historical fills are mostly filled with win. Also medival Lithuania is badass.
Captcha: Gaged Prauge. Well maybe not in that way captcha
Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 22:44:03 UTC
[Thanks for the kind comments, everyone. Yes, you did see FrUK; they were indulging in the English vice last night and England's back has not yet healed, which is why he freaked about the coffee. Poor Liet will get to be badass once he's done twitching at all the shiny lights.]
*
At least Liet was letting Poland hold his hand. He held it like he was afraid he was going to drop it, too, so tight he could feel his bones grinding together.
France and England had promised to keep calling Norway until they got an answer, and meanwhile look up all they could find on memory spells. Estonia and Latvia had gone back to Lithuania's house, promising to make things up as necessary if anyone rang. ("Holiday in Italy," Latvia suggested, and Estonia had frowned and said, "Holiday in Uruguay. Harder to get back from in a hurry. Worse phone service.") That left Poland to shepard around Liet, and keep him from freaking out too badly at twentieth-century Paris.
But Liet didn't seem too inclined to freak, thank god. There was something around his lips, though, and his eyes were narrowed like they'd always been when he was annoyed, way back when. "America?"
"Yeah, you know - oh hell, I guess you don't know, do you." There were people who spoke Lithuanian in Paris, but so far they hadn't run into any, which was lucky. Maybe they should switch to Polish just for safety's sake? Nobody here spoke medieval Polish. "Huh. Have you ever heard of the New World?"
" . . . no."
"That narrows down the time, after 1500 you'd know. Two great big continents across the ocean. England had this colony, and he was kind of a dick about taxes, so they rebelled and made their own country." He snickered. "That's what people mean by America, mostly. The United States of America. Really nice guy. Grew up to be the most powerful nation in the world. Ego the size of the Mediterranean. Makes good coffee, but England tried to teach him to cook, and well." Poland waved a hand at the bright McDonald's sign. "He exports culture. Some of it's good stuff. Some of it's not."
They watched the people wandering in and out for a little bit, clutching paper cups of soda and paper-wrapped hamburgers. Eventually Lithuania sighed, slumping. "I think I need to look at a map," he said. "Look, how do I get along with America?"
"You're buddies. Back in the Twenties - " Poland paused; he didn't want to think about the Twenties, he didn't want to admit that they had ever been at war. Well, he didn't have to explain everything right off, did he? "Back in the Twenties, the 1920s I mean, a bunch of your people moved over there to work. And you stayed with him and you were great buddies for a while. And back during the Soviet Union, he never acknowledged the takeover, he was so happy when you got out - " He broke off. Oh crap. Had anyone mentioned the Soviet Union yet?
Apparently not, because Lithuania hissed. "I was conquered?" His hand just got tighter on Poland's, so tight it hurt.
"By Russia. Muscovy, you probably remember him being." Poland took a deep breath. "Russia's a jerk. He's always been a jerk. He was an Empire for a while, and he took over you and Latvia and Estonia - that's when you started calling yourselves brothers. You stuck together. And you all got out, and then it happened again once he turned communist. But you got out again! It's fine! He's never going to touch you again, I swear, he's too scared - " Liet had gone pale, and Poland wrapped him in a hug. "Look, can we not talk about this now? Please?"
They took a few deep breaths together. "Alright. When will we talk?" whispered Liet.
"When we get to my place. I've got a place in Paris. My boss doesn't know about it." Poland grinned desperately. "And I've got a globe there. But let's get something to eat first, okay? Hey, we could even have McDonald's. They have beer. I bet you could use a beer."
"Globe?"
"Map of the whole world." Poland patted Liet on the shoulder and looked around - nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Well, it was Paris, it wasn't that strange to see two men hugging on the streets. "Come on. Let's get some dinner."
He'd forgotten about potatoes being a New World thing, too, but Lithuania turned out to have no complaints about French fries.
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 23:02:45 UTC
Chapter 4 already up! LietPol is really cute and seeing confused but still somewhat certain Lithuania is really nice. The change is there even if it's not to apperant. Keep working author anon, we'll be right here reading.
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 21 2010, 01:02:27 UTC
Both my OTPs in one fic for what I think is the first time ever. Anon, I love you for all the silliest reasons ♥ but I really do like this story, with all the quirky little details and Lithuania's confusion about the modern world. And Estonia's eardrum-piercing cough in particulary :)
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 21 2010, 06:32:58 UTC
Op is here again, and I like it more and more every single line of it I read!
First thing- Poland? Dude, I should tape-record his dialog. It's made out of pure win! I was giggling like a nutcase… I really like the way you are writing him, and the part he tries to avoid the topic of the Polish-Lithuanian war? perfection. I wonder how memory-reversed Liet will find out… and react.
Second- Love Estonia XD never thought I would say that for a character so minor in a fic but still- "Holiday in Uruguay. Harder to get back from in a hurry. Worse phone service." XDXDXD
Last thing- I like the way your Liet is acting, it's very realistic- which is great. It's very nice to read and see the little differences, and, well- I can already see how after some time to adjust He'll get all ass-kicking-awesome.
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 24 2010, 23:43:46 UTC
UKSRUGLIREUHLVHALGE!!!!!!!!! This! This! I cannot sufficiently express my love for something so amazing!
I love Lietpol. I love medieval!Liet. I love historical accuracy. I love this fic. UAKGEUEURLGVAI
"When we get to my place. I've got a place in Paris. My boss doesn't know about it." Somehow, I'm not surprised. I'll bet he got it during the Napoleonic Era, considering loads of Poles fled to France then.
Maybe they should switch to Polish just for safety's sake? Nobody here spoke medieval Polish. For some reason, I found this line extremely funny.
This is A+ work. I love it so much. Please please please update soon!!!!!!
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 25 2010, 01:04:50 UTC
I'll bet he got it during the Napoleonic Era, considering loads of Poles fled to France then. Sometime around then, yeah. Fanon seems to have him living with Austria after the partitions, but in my headcanon, having his territory divided three ways meant Austria, Russia, and Prussia all assumed he was living with one of the other two, and he took the opportunity to head off to first Italy, and join the Polish Legions, then France, where he settled down for some time and hung out with the emigrants. And he hasn't redecorated in a hundred years. Literally. He keeps meaning to get around to it, but by now t's gone past 'dated' to 'nostalgic'. I don't know if thiis will come up in the story, but that's the background I use. (capthca says 'that migrated'. Correct, captcha!)
I have so much fun with languages in this fandom. ^^
Glad you enjoyed it. I've been busy with my other ongoing fill, but the update is in the works!
Re: Let your sons draw their strength from our past experience [4/?]
anonymous
March 29 2010, 17:28:10 UTC
I can't even begin to express how much WIN this fill is. o__o♥ Omg, you seem to know what you're talking about so well too and the reactions are realistic, or seem that way to me. *bookmarked so hard*
W-would you mind if I asked if you're a Lithuanian yourself, writeranon?
Our modern, stressed and shattering Liet is somehow switched with his medieval self (Tony? is that you? or maybe Britannia Angel?). You know, the guy that kick-Teutonic-ass. Of course- this is causing a lot of confusion to the world-and mostly to medieval!Liet himself ("America? Who is that? Never heard of him."- "Prussia, how many times do I have to kick your ass away so you get it and leave us alone?!"-"what do you mean I have brothers?!" and so on.)
[Author's notes: 1. Title is a line from the Lithuanian national anthem (see http://www3.lrs.lt/home/w5_viewer/statiniai/seimu_istorija/w5_show-p_r=4056&p_d=49249&p_k=2.html for full lyrics). 2. Vodka has about ten times as much alcohol by volume as beer. 3. The Lithuanian language has changed surpisingly little over the centuries; medieval Lithuanian and modern are far more muually comprehensible than, say, Middle English and modern English, or medieval and modern Polish. ]
*
Using magic this way was a blow to his pride, but Lithuania figured five years of waking up screaming at unpredictable intervals was long enough to make pride irrelevant.
Okay, ingredient six. He squinted at England's messy handwriting. 12 teaspoons rosemary, okay, he could do that. As it turned out he didn't have quite twelve teaspoons, once he ground it up, but close enough. It went in. Olive oil - no amount specified, which must mean it wasn't an active ingredient, so he just poured in a few spoonfuls. Last ingredient: alcohol. I use brown ale, but anything works, the scribbled note said. Given the earlier warning about smell, he used vodka, and measured out a careful three-hundred milliliters.
The concoction smelled like - well, like strong vodka, with a faint whiff of ash. He swirled it around as the directions said, widdershins and chanting under his breath, then set it down to steep while he washed the supper dishes.
With that done he closed his eyes and focused, for once, on the bad dreams, took a long hard sip. It left him coughing and gasping, but he didn't spit any out. The second swallow was easier, and the ones after that hardly burned his throat, and by the time he finished the goblet his head was spinning. According to the recipe, it was supposed to do that. He made his shaky way to bed, and managed to climb between the covers before the black veil drifted over his vision.
*
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"What? Don't look at me. This is not my fault."
Of course, everyone kept looking at England.
"Look, the recipe I gave him doesn't even take memories away! Just suppresses them. I use it all the time! Good god, so does France!" France twitched, and England went pale as he realized that probably wasn't something his neigbor wanted spread around, but it was too late. He plowed on. "Look, I don't know what the hell happened to him but if you lot would just stop shouting for a bit we could maybe ask some sensible questions like - Lithuania! What's the last thing you remember before you woke up!"
Lithuania cast Poland a confused look. Poland sighed, and repeated in Lithuanian: "He wants to know the last thing you remember before you woke up."
"I'm not sure," Lithuania answered, in the same language. He rubbed at his temple - okay, that mannerism either hadn't gone away or it hadn't changed in, well, however long. "I remember it was a hot day, and I hadn't been working, but i was still so hot I went down to the cellar to sleep. I think you had been there before I went to sleep. We drank mead - we were celebrating something." He frowned. "Lenkija - Polska, who are these nations? Why did you bring me here?"
"Well, England's here because I think it has to have been magic. And France is here because he picked up England's phone, and your brothers are here for moral support."
"But I have no brothers -"
Poland answered that in what sounded like rapidfire Polish, but England was too distracted to listen, because France had just poured the rest of his hot coffee down the back of England's shirt. He hissed and grabbed his knees and the worst part was that he couldn't scream out loud, because it wasn't boiling coffee, just warm, and screaming would mean someone would ask what the matter was and France would probably tell them. Damn, damn, damn. And he'd waited just long enough it make it seem like he wasn't going to do anything. England took a deep breath and hissed, "What the fuck, frog?"
"Merely indulging in a spot of negative reinforcement, dearest. Also, your coffee is truly abominable." France waved a hand amiably and leaned back in his chair. "Carry on."
"It's your fucking coffee, this is your house!"
"And if you had not insisted on making it, it might have been palatable, but we all know your skill with recipes - "
Estonia coughed before the argument could get any louder, or whatever it was that was making Poland and Lithuania's discussion involve so much handwaving could erupt into an actual argument. He had long since perfected the art of politely coughing in a way that split your eardrums. Latvia shot him a desperate look of gratitude. "England! This potion of yours, if it works normally, what exactly are the effects?"
"It suppresses memories. Doesn't erase the memories, only . . . makes them less relevant." He had to hunt a bit for the Lithuanian words. It was always easier to speak your own language, even if you understood someone else's. "Someone who has taken it should be unable to recall whatever they took it for unless they deliberately think about it. The memories will not spring to mind if they see something related, or as dreams."
"Hmm. And is it reversible?"
"It wears off eventually." England sighed and put his head in his hands. "Norway's recipe, really, I just modified it. Why didn't you call Norway? Aren't you guys all buddy-buddy with the Nordics?"
"I tried! But I kept getting his voicemail. Tell you later," he added, at Lithuania's confused look. He took a deep breath. "Okay, how long does it take to wear off? If it's working normally. I mean, maybe we can just wait it out."
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England bit his lip and suddenly found the interesting tiled border on the other side of France's kitchen very interesting indeed. "A year or two, but that's hardly relevant, it can't have been the potion! Look, I gave him the recipe at the Olympics, that was weeks ago. Why didn't he lose his memory weeks ago -"
"A year?" Lithuania suddenly thumped a fist on the counter. That was new. "How am I supposed to go on like this for a year? What if there's a battle?"
Latvia mumbled into his coffee cup, "Well, I could maybe look after things for you? If I had to? There's not going to be anything you have to do, really, I mean your government's pretty stable and um. There are parlimentary elections coming up, but . . . "
"Let's make that our last resort," Estonia cut in, and reached across Latvia for the sugar bowl. "England has a point, however. Do we know it was the potion?"
"We totally do," Poland declared, "look, he has the recipe still in his pocket, you don't just keep sticking stuff in there, like some people, right, Liet?" He stuck his hand in the pocket of Lithuania's jeans to extract it, which Lithuania would normally not have blinked at, and which right now, caused him to yelp and wrench Poland's hand away. Poland looked more surprised than hurt, and Lithuania looked a little bt - not ashamed, really, but cringing nontheless. After a few seconds silence Lithuania reached into his own pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. A familiar piece of paper. England snatched it from his fingers, although he was careful not to get too close. That wariness of touch, that's something they all had, once upon a time.
But it was the recipe, and was the right recipe in his own handwriting - okay, he'll admit his handwriting is messy - salt, half a teaspoon rosemary olive oil, three hundred milliliters beer - even the chant is right. "Look," he said, "this is the right recipe. If he actually followed this, nothing bad should have happened."
Estonia leaned back, as much as was possible on his barstool. "I think we can safely attribute it to magical causes, whatever the precise reason," he declares, which is a very nice and diplomatic way of saying He must have fucked up the recipe that doesn't actually involve accusing Lithuania aloud. "England, do you know of a direct antidote to your memory-suppresant potion?"
"No. Never needed one." He bites his lip. Latvia twitches and looks at Lithuania out of the corner of his eye. Lithuania's eyes are narrowed, and he's rubbing his temple again, and Poland's hand is hovering in the vicinity of his shoulder without actually touching.
France shoved his empty coffee cup away from him. It skitterd over the counter and beaches itself on the edge of the stove with a ceramic clang. "I suggest we try to contact Norway again, if it's his recipe. In the meantime, I am going to have a cigarette. Please try not to get any blood on my kitchen floor while I'm gone."
The silence after he stalked off was broken by Lithuania's cautious, "What's a cigarette?"
*
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Also, is that FrUK I smell? =D
Can't wait to read more, I hope you update soon!
Reply
I'm so glad someone finally is filling this! My first fill, yay! ^___^ *going to bake Author!Anon some cookies*
So far I really like it, and also it seems you know what you are writing about on the medieval Lithuania topic, which is absolutely awesome, too. I can't wait for more!
reCaptcha says: the accuracy. I think it likes your fic, too!
Reply
Reply
I agree with the following anon that you seem to have done reserach on the topic which makes me really happy since historical fills are mostly filled with win.
Also medival Lithuania is badass.
Captcha: Gaged Prauge.
Well maybe not in that way captcha
Reply
*
At least Liet was letting Poland hold his hand. He held it like he was afraid he was going to drop it, too, so tight he could feel his bones grinding together.
France and England had promised to keep calling Norway until they got an answer, and meanwhile look up all they could find on memory spells. Estonia and Latvia had gone back to Lithuania's house, promising to make things up as necessary if anyone rang. ("Holiday in Italy," Latvia suggested, and Estonia had frowned and said, "Holiday in Uruguay. Harder to get back from in a hurry. Worse phone service.") That left Poland to shepard around Liet, and keep him from freaking out too badly at twentieth-century Paris.
But Liet didn't seem too inclined to freak, thank god. There was something around his lips, though, and his eyes were narrowed like they'd always been when he was annoyed, way back when. "America?"
"Yeah, you know - oh hell, I guess you don't know, do you." There were people who spoke Lithuanian in Paris, but so far they hadn't run into any, which was lucky. Maybe they should switch to Polish just for safety's sake? Nobody here spoke medieval Polish. "Huh. Have you ever heard of the New World?"
" . . . no."
"That narrows down the time, after 1500 you'd know. Two great big continents across the ocean. England had this colony, and he was kind of a dick about taxes, so they rebelled and made their own country." He snickered. "That's what people mean by America, mostly. The United States of America. Really nice guy. Grew up to be the most powerful nation in the world. Ego the size of the Mediterranean. Makes good coffee, but England tried to teach him to cook, and well." Poland waved a hand at the bright McDonald's sign. "He exports culture. Some of it's good stuff. Some of it's not."
They watched the people wandering in and out for a little bit, clutching paper cups of soda and paper-wrapped hamburgers. Eventually Lithuania sighed, slumping. "I think I need to look at a map," he said. "Look, how do I get along with America?"
"You're buddies. Back in the Twenties - " Poland paused; he didn't want to think about the Twenties, he didn't want to admit that they had ever been at war. Well, he didn't have to explain everything right off, did he? "Back in the Twenties, the 1920s I mean, a bunch of your people moved over there to work. And you stayed with him and you were great buddies for a while. And back during the Soviet Union, he never acknowledged the takeover, he was so happy when you got out - " He broke off. Oh crap. Had anyone mentioned the Soviet Union yet?
Apparently not, because Lithuania hissed. "I was conquered?" His hand just got tighter on Poland's, so tight it hurt.
"By Russia. Muscovy, you probably remember him being." Poland took a deep breath. "Russia's a jerk. He's always been a jerk. He was an Empire for a while, and he took over you and Latvia and Estonia - that's when you started calling yourselves brothers. You stuck together. And you all got out, and then it happened again once he turned communist. But you got out again! It's fine! He's never going to touch you again, I swear, he's too scared - " Liet had gone pale, and Poland wrapped him in a hug. "Look, can we not talk about this now? Please?"
They took a few deep breaths together. "Alright. When will we talk?" whispered Liet.
"When we get to my place. I've got a place in Paris. My boss doesn't know about it." Poland grinned desperately. "And I've got a globe there. But let's get something to eat first, okay? Hey, we could even have McDonald's. They have beer. I bet you could use a beer."
"Globe?"
"Map of the whole world." Poland patted Liet on the shoulder and looked around - nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Well, it was Paris, it wasn't that strange to see two men hugging on the streets. "Come on. Let's get some dinner."
He'd forgotten about potatoes being a New World thing, too, but Lithuania turned out to have no complaints about French fries.
*
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And hearing Poland sum up the American revolution in one sentence was epic awesome
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First thing- Poland? Dude, I should tape-record his dialog. It's made out of pure win! I was giggling like a nutcase… I really like the way you are writing him, and the part he tries to avoid the topic of the Polish-Lithuanian war? perfection. I wonder how memory-reversed Liet will find out… and react.
Second- Love Estonia XD never thought I would say that for a character so minor in a fic but still- "Holiday in Uruguay. Harder to get back from in a hurry. Worse phone service." XDXDXD
Last thing- I like the way your Liet is acting, it's very realistic- which is great. It's very nice to read and see the little differences, and, well- I can already see how after some time to adjust He'll get all ass-kicking-awesome.
Still waiting for more! *cheers*
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And I have to agree with the other anons who commented on how good your Estonia is :3 Looking forward to seeing more of confident!Liet!
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I love Lietpol. I love medieval!Liet. I love historical accuracy. I love this fic. UAKGEUEURLGVAI
"When we get to my place. I've got a place in Paris. My boss doesn't know about it." Somehow, I'm not surprised. I'll bet he got it during the Napoleonic Era, considering loads of Poles fled to France then.
Maybe they should switch to Polish just for safety's sake? Nobody here spoke medieval Polish. For some reason, I found this line extremely funny.
This is A+ work. I love it so much. Please please please update soon!!!!!!
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Sometime around then, yeah. Fanon seems to have him living with Austria after the partitions, but in my headcanon, having his territory divided three ways meant Austria, Russia, and Prussia all assumed he was living with one of the other two, and he took the opportunity to head off to first Italy, and join the Polish Legions, then France, where he settled down for some time and hung out with the emigrants. And he hasn't redecorated in a hundred years. Literally. He keeps meaning to get around to it, but by now t's gone past 'dated' to 'nostalgic'. I don't know if thiis will come up in the story, but that's the background I use. (capthca says 'that migrated'. Correct, captcha!)
I have so much fun with languages in this fandom. ^^
Glad you enjoyed it. I've been busy with my other ongoing fill, but the update is in the works!
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W-would you mind if I asked if you're a Lithuanian yourself, writeranon?
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