Mother and Daughter
Title: Mother and Daughter
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: R
Summary: Mother Britannia and baby!Ireland, where baby!Ireland discovers her favorite shiny things: KNIVES.
Timeframe: ...Sometime after 2000 BC? No idea.
Word Count: 496, including footnotes
Notes/Warnings: Bad accents (Ireland's pre-1937 accent), OCs, teaching a child how to use knives. A request from noblemen, "Something with Ireland and Mama Britannia or Papa Celt." Mother's here, Da's coming up next. < :
They were shiny, bits of sharpened stone somehow attached to bits of wood, and the perfect thing to draw a young girl’s attention. Bright green eyes stared up at them, where someone had placed them out of reach. She pouted, brow furrowing under fierce eyebrows, missing when her mother came up behind her.
“What are ye lookin’ at, me Bride?” she asked quietly, smiling when the little girl didn’t jump, but smoothly turned to see her.
“T’ose,” she pouted, pointing at them. The older of the two tilted her head, then smiled.
“Ah aye, ye’re likin’ th’knives then?”
Bride nodded, but still had a mulish look on her face. “Uh huh. Bu’ Lusí, he was sayin’ I couldnae be touchin’ t’em.”
Her mother frowned, equally large eyebrows making it even more impressive. “Was ‘e now? ‘Ave t’be talkin’ t’Iberia ‘bout that, aye.” She reached up and selected one of the smaller ones, pressing it into her hand. “Don’ be listenin’ t’Lusí, aye? Need t’be learnin’ ‘ow t’be usin’ them.”
Bride looked at the one in her hand, then at the rest where they remained out of reach. “What if I’m loosin’ t’is one? Shouldn’t I be havin’ more’n one?”
She stared at her little girl a long moment, then let out a loud war cry and swept her up in her arms. “Aye, I was knowin’ one o’me wee babes would be takin’ after me! Told Iberia I did! She’ll be right proud, aye she will!” After a tight hug she took her empty hand, grabbed three other knives, a small one and two larger, and took her outside the small hut. “Lugubelenus, be watchin’ Scoti for me, aye? Teachin’ Bride ‘ow t’be usin’ th’knives.”
An older boy looked up at the two of them from where he was tending the fire, quiet eyes settling first on his mother, then his little sister. After a moment, he smiled softly. “Ie, Mum.”
“Good lad.” She tugged at Bride’s hand again, leading her off a little ways onto some flatlands. “Goin’ t’be teachin’ ye t’be a fighter th’Morrigan’ll be proud o’, aye.”
Bride could only smile as widely as her mother, tightening her hand around the stick with a shiny bit of stone lashed to it. She’d show Lusí she could do this. And she’d be the best fighter of them all, just as her mother wanted.
Footnotes:
Bride: An alternate spelling of Brigid, both of which are pronounced "breed".
Lusí: Lusitania, an old name for Portugal. Trading routes exist from ancient times between Ireland and Portugal (And the rest of the British Isles and Iberian Peninsula).
Iberia: The Iberian Peninsula, which contains both Spain and Portugal, considered here to be their mother.
Lugubelenus: A very old version of Llewellyn, Wales. I have no idea how to pronounce this.
Scoti: Old name for Scotland. Ireland was once "Scotia."
Ie: Welsh for "yes"
The Morrigan: Irish Goddess of death and destruction. Not someone you want to fuck with, seriously.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: R
Summary: Mother Britannia and baby!Ireland, where baby!Ireland discovers her favorite shiny things: KNIVES.
Timeframe: ...Sometime after 2000 BC? No idea.
Word Count: 496, including footnotes
Notes/Warnings: Bad accents (Ireland's pre-1937 accent), OCs, teaching a child how to use knives. A request from noblemen, "Something with Ireland and Mama Britannia or Papa Celt." Mother's here, Da's coming up next. < :
They were shiny, bits of sharpened stone somehow attached to bits of wood, and the perfect thing to draw a young girl’s attention. Bright green eyes stared up at them, where someone had placed them out of reach. She pouted, brow furrowing under fierce eyebrows, missing when her mother came up behind her.
“What are ye lookin’ at, me Bride?” she asked quietly, smiling when the little girl didn’t jump, but smoothly turned to see her.
“T’ose,” she pouted, pointing at them. The older of the two tilted her head, then smiled.
“Ah aye, ye’re likin’ th’knives then?”
Bride nodded, but still had a mulish look on her face. “Uh huh. Bu’ Lusí, he was sayin’ I couldnae be touchin’ t’em.”
Her mother frowned, equally large eyebrows making it even more impressive. “Was ‘e now? ‘Ave t’be talkin’ t’Iberia ‘bout that, aye.” She reached up and selected one of the smaller ones, pressing it into her hand. “Don’ be listenin’ t’Lusí, aye? Need t’be learnin’ ‘ow t’be usin’ them.”
Bride looked at the one in her hand, then at the rest where they remained out of reach. “What if I’m loosin’ t’is one? Shouldn’t I be havin’ more’n one?”
She stared at her little girl a long moment, then let out a loud war cry and swept her up in her arms. “Aye, I was knowin’ one o’me wee babes would be takin’ after me! Told Iberia I did! She’ll be right proud, aye she will!” After a tight hug she took her empty hand, grabbed three other knives, a small one and two larger, and took her outside the small hut. “Lugubelenus, be watchin’ Scoti for me, aye? Teachin’ Bride ‘ow t’be usin’ th’knives.”
An older boy looked up at the two of them from where he was tending the fire, quiet eyes settling first on his mother, then his little sister. After a moment, he smiled softly. “Ie, Mum.”
“Good lad.” She tugged at Bride’s hand again, leading her off a little ways onto some flatlands. “Goin’ t’be teachin’ ye t’be a fighter th’Morrigan’ll be proud o’, aye.”
Bride could only smile as widely as her mother, tightening her hand around the stick with a shiny bit of stone lashed to it. She’d show Lusí she could do this. And she’d be the best fighter of them all, just as her mother wanted.
Footnotes:
Bride: An alternate spelling of Brigid, both of which are pronounced "breed".
Lusí: Lusitania, an old name for Portugal. Trading routes exist from ancient times between Ireland and Portugal (And the rest of the British Isles and Iberian Peninsula).
Iberia: The Iberian Peninsula, which contains both Spain and Portugal, considered here to be their mother.
Lugubelenus: A very old version of Llewellyn, Wales. I have no idea how to pronounce this.
Scoti: Old name for Scotland. Ireland was once "Scotia."
Ie: Welsh for "yes"
The Morrigan: Irish Goddess of death and destruction. Not someone you want to fuck with, seriously.