Countryhumans Oneshots

A Concerned Friend

A little sneak peek into a book I hope to write on England and the Norman invasion.

Alba had been worried about Sasann. Ever since Nòrmandaidh had invaded his country, none of his neighbors had seen him, only heard rumors of what the conquering nation was doing in an attempt to solidify control.

It was concerning, to say the least. Alba worried about what had happened to Sasann and whether the other country was okay. He and Sasann may not have been the closest, but that gave him no reason not to be concerned.

So when he received an invitation to visit Sasann's new capital, London, and see the man again, Alba jumped at the opportunity. He was eager to check in on his friend and confirm any rumors he had heard.

Things felt different; he noticed that as soon as he entered the city. Maybe it was the new capital, or perhaps it was the people now in charge, but something felt off about this new city.

Alba was anxious.

When he was led into the palace, he was annoyed to find that none of the guards meant to lead him into the throne room spoke Englisċ. Alba didn't speak Nòrmandaidh's language, only truly knowing the languages of his neighbors, something he was beginning to realize was a problem.

Nòrmandaidh was his neighbor now. He would have to learn her language now. Alba merely sighed and added it to a mental list as they approached what he presumed to be the throne room in this new palace.

The sight he saw when entering the room was not what he expected. Sasann was not in any place of honor like a countryhuman usually was; rather, he was sitting on the ground beside the throne Nòrmandaidh was on, head bowed.

His wings were gone. Alba had known that, but seeing it was another thing.

Sasann looked so different. He used to be a dragon, full of fire and fight, but now that was gone. His dragon features were gone, the most noticeable piece of his heritage. Replacing them now was a set of lion ears and a tail to match, his flag a faded version of Nòrmandaidh's.

He looked far too much like her and far too little like the person Alba knew. He hated it.

He seemed too...docile to be the man he knew. That only served to worry Alba further. How had Nòrmandaidh gotten him into this state? How did she win—or force, most likely—the most stubborn man Alba had ever met into kneeling by her side like a servant or slave?

As far as Alba could see, no chains or restraints bound the man to the ground. He kneeled of his own free will—a sign of humiliation and defeat that Alba had never imagined from Sasann.

It might have been a bit offensive, considering the message Nòrmandaidh was clearly trying to send about who was in power, but Alba ignored her, instead facing Sasann. He needed to talk to the man, to see if he was okay, to try to piece together the terrifying picture in front of him.

"It's good to see you again, Sasann. I hope you're well," Alba said. Sasann lifted his head; a tiny spark of the cheerful boy he once knew lit up in Sasann's eye as he lifted his head, opening his mouth to respond. But before he could say anything, Nòrmandaidh placed her hand on top of his head, and Sasann's spark went out as his eyes fogged over, head falling as Nòrmandaidh pushed it back down into its bowed position.

Alba felt sick.

"Scoteland, I know that my son was once the countryhuman of this land, but I am in charge now, and you will do well to remember that," Nòrmandaidh said, surprising Alba with her Englisċ (accented as it was), but also her words. Son? What kind of delusion was this? Alba had known Sasann since the country's birth, and he had never had a mother.