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Gentle, cool winds brushed through the long fingers of the branches of the trees, crunches of leaves under bare feet. There was a chill in the air... Winter was coming. Preparations had to be made for the upcoming season, and despite being as young and small as he was, Oliver was still expected to pull his weight. All the while, as counter intuitive as it was, to be kept out of sight.
The boy knew exactly why such things were as they were, the reason he had heard all through his young life.
He supposed that was why he felt so comfortable in the nearby forests, there was no judgement. No disapproving looks. No disappointment. No Father. No Brothers. Only the comfort of the wise, watchful eyes of the trees and animals.
Pulling his wool cloak even closer to his thin frame, Oliver continued on down the path that he created for himself. Even in it's familiarity, there remained that wildness that he loved and craved so much. It reminded him so much of his Mum. As much as she scared him sometimes with many of the actions that she took, there was still a solace there with her that he seeked. She was a safe place, strong and reliable. In his eyes, she was like the ancient Oak standing tall and proud at the end of the trail next to the river. Beautiful yet feral. It was no wonder why Father loved her as much as he did.
Yet on some level, through the constant reminder that he looked just like her, he wondered why he wasn't accepted.
Oliver however knew the true reason as to why.
As he drew closer to the river, the crinkles of flowing water became more prevalent with the suddenness of soft snickers echoing in his ears. Bright blue eyes turned upward from his focused gaze on the ground, a smile forming at the mere sight of the fae fluttering around him.
"Decided to be kind today?" Oliver asked through a giggle of his own, following the figures further down the path.
He was just relieved that the fae decided to take pity on him today, though it likely helped in his favor that he had his hood covering the mop of unkempt pink hair. Maybe they just wished to keep him company, he never knew. They were fickle creatures that only he could see, likely because they allowed him to. Oliver knew of the full extent of the magic hiding in the forest.
Amongst the breeze and the flutters of wings, there was a hint of something else in the air. A familiar voice, a woman's voice. She was talking to herself, and as he drew closer, he could see her pacing back and forth along the side of the bank. While he couldn't make out what she was saying, the Brit hid behind a tree near her. Poking his head out from behind the trunk, Oliver could see who this woman was. Long pink hair covering piercing azure eyes, a loose white tunic dress covering her thin, toned, freckled frame.
Britannia.
Despite nary a movement, a snap of a branch fully caught her attention. With a swift movement, she drew a small blade. Wild eyes shot in his direction, Oliver freezing in the process when she snapped, brandishing the crude dagger in his direction.
"Who's there! Show yerself!"
At first, Oliver didn't move a muscle. He didn't want to spook his mother more than he clearly had, especially having seen what she is fully capable of. Trembling from head to toe and practically on the verge of tears, not even when it became more obvious that she had spotted him. Realization crossed onto her face, a heavy sigh following when she placed the blade back in it's sheath.
"Arthur. Stop looking like a terrified rabbit. Come here."
Oliver looked to her in surprise, she actually called him by his first name. Still shaking, the boy removed himself from his hiding spot before doing as he was told. If it was one thing he always knew, it was to always listen to his Mum.
"Sit."
Her words were as sharp as the weapons she was so adept at using, promptly sitting down on the bank at her mere spoken word. He could see the exasperation on her face as she rubbed her temples between her fingers, mumbling under her breath something about him being a 'troublesome child'.
"Stop that shaking. Yer not a leaf."
Britannia took a seat next to Oliver, watching as he quickly straightened up and wiped away the tears with the side of his cloak hood. As soon as he did so, she reached over and pulled the hood back. As she watched his movements, the same wonder as she has had many times before ran through her head. How could she have sired a child like him?
Small, thin, weak, delicate.
Even with each attempt to toughen the boy up, each of her efforts seemed to be in vain. Throw him into the river to see if he would swim, she had to dive in and pull him out. Try to teach him to hunt with a knife, cried for the death of the rabbit. Forced him to wrestle with his elder brothers, ended with more injuries than was necessary. It was no wonder that her husband didn't accept him.
He was like a tiny animal, defenseless and needed protection. He always came to her when he was sad, clinging onto her leg until he received a pat on the head. When a tiny squeak of his voice broke the silence, what was said caught her entirely off-guard.
"Mum. I'm going to become a great Empire one day."
There was a determination in Oliver's voice that she had never heard before, raising a single brow while placing a hand on top of his head.
"Is that so?"
"I will be strong one day. Stronger than Father. Stronger than Rome. Then they will have to like me. And Alastair and Owen will have to listen to me. That's a promise." Arms crossed over his chest, punctuating each sentence as though imprinting his words in his memory. There was a distinct pout, the corners of his lips tight.
"We will see now, won't we?"
Now Britannia was more amused by the clear conviction in his tone, this was new for Oliver. This feeble child wished to be greater than even the Roman Empire?
"I will. You will see. I will be big and strong one day!"
Despite her snort in amusement, she pulled Oliver onto her lap and slowly began to stroke his messy hair. It was still so strange to her that this boy looked so much like her, yet at the moment seemed to take on none of hers or his true father's traits. He was still young, maybe that would change. Only time would truly tell.
"Mum... Can you sing that lullaby to me? That one you used to do?"
Oliver fully settled back against his mother's front, the back of his head resting on her chest. It wasn't often the pair got a quiet moment like this together, Britannia supposed it would be alright as long as no one saw. She allowed a soft smile of her own down at her youngest son, the soft song beginning in it's gentle melody.
"Suantraí sí, a linbhín
Luasc go mall sa chliabhán
Lú lá luí, a linbhín
Dún do shúil, a naíonáin..."
The yawn from below didn't escape her, seeing that Oliver had closed his eyes while she continued.
"Seoithín seoithín seoithín seó
Seoithín seoithín seoithín seó
Seoithín seoithín seoithín seó
Suantraí sí, a linbhín,
A thaiscidh, a stór..."
The small body relaxed against her, the soft pets at his hair putting Oliver at ease.
"Luí go socair, luí go ciúin
Codladh sámh, a ghrághil
Fan id' shuan, a thaiscidh buan
Go n-éirí tú ar maidin."
While the boy hadn't fallen asleep yet, he was well on his way to. She supposed she could stay like this a little bit longer, pondering on his words. He wanted to be greater than Rome. While such a notion seemed highly unlikely, at the same time, it wasn't impossible. Maybe it was possible, maybe one day such a promise would come true.
Time would tell. Little did Britannia know that one day her son would grow up to fulfill such a promise. A promise just for her. To make her proud.