foreverwarrior: (Miranda (fearless))
When: October, 62 AD
Where: Venonæ, Britannia (High Cross, Lutterworth, Warwickshire, UK)
Alias: Boudica


Bodies littered the ground, broken and bloodied. Half her forces had not survived to see sunset. Half or more of those that remained told the story of the battle in wounds and severed limbs. Over a hundred thousand against maybe five hundred and still, she had lost. Carrion birds squawked and argued amongst themselves for the best morsels. Her stomach churned in revolt, knowing they feasted upon those she had just that morning called friend and ally. Wind whipped at her cloak, bringing with it the vile stench of death as the sun slowly slid below the horizon. For a moment, the sky turned as bloody as the field below.

"Lady Boudica." She knew the Druid, Irial, by voice alone.

"I am dead," she said without turning.

"My lady?"

"Tell them I am dead."

"But... why?"

"How do you expect me to face them after this?" She waved a hand in the direction of the mutilated carnage. "Taya and Ciara will understand. Our lands belong to the Romans now. There's nothing for me here."

"Where will you go?"

"North."

"To the land of the Prydyn?"

Her only answer was mounting the horse standing nearby.

"What should I tell the others?"

"That I took poison and was given a proper funeral."

Of course, that meant a pyre and her ashes scattered to the four winds. The Druids would find no shortage of volunteers to play her part.

"Be well, my lady. The gods have honoured us with your presence."

"And you have honoured them, Irial. Be well."

The Druid raised his hand in solemn salute and watched in silence as she rode into the oncoming night.



In response to [livejournal.com profile] _call_me_snake_'s question here.
Note: Names (aside from Boudica's) are fictional. Ciara is pronounced Key-ARE-ah.
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (fearless))
A rewrite of this.

{For Immortal Knowledge Only}

The white ribbon the Romans called “Wæcelinga Stræt” coursed through the landscape. I scowled. It was yet more proof of Roman intrusion into lands that were not theirs. They defiled the land just as they had deflowered my husband’s daughters. Nothing was sacred to them. They made their Emperors into gods and made my people pay for their temples.

The Iceni they had claimed as “savages” had systematically ruined three of their precious settlements. And the one and only Legion that had dared stand against us was slaughtered. Still, I wouldn’t rest until every last Roman left Britain without a backward glance. I would be free of them, or I would die trying.

At last the dawn came. I took to my chariot, my husband’s daughters beside me. With a flick of the reins, I urged the two horses to ride to the front of my forces. 230,000 strong; it was a sight to behold. I raised my voice to the clear morning air and spoke to them not as a Queen but as a mother avenging her daughters and a woman fighting for her freedom. Although Immortals couldn’t scar, my back still twinged at the memories of being flogged for trying to keep my husband’s daughters intact. That fury added power to my voice.

“On this spot we must either conquer, or die with glory. There is no alternative. Though a woman, my resolution is fixed: the men, if they please, may survive with infamy, and live in bondage.” I raised my voice to the dawn, praying the Gods would hear my cry. “Nothing is safe from Roman pride and arrogance. They will deface the sacred and will deflower our virgins. Win the battle or perish, that is what I, a woman, will do!”

To their credit, each raised their arms and roared with battle lust. Men, women, Iceni and Trinovante alike had answered my call. Rome must know that their deeds would not go unpunished, and we would not be conquered easily.

“Fight the foe!” I cried.

“Fight the foe!” Over two hundred thousand voices echoed in the dawn.

The Battle )


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
351 words (not including wiki info)
foreverwarrior: (Default)
When: Summer, 61 AD
Where: SE Briton
Alias: Boudica, Iceni Queen



"My lady, what you are proposing is to go to war against Rome itself!"

She glared at the man standing across the war table.

"What would you have me do, Irial? Pretend they didn't desecrate our holy sites with shines to their Cæsars? Forget they brutalised my daughters? Dismiss the fact they publicly humiliated me?"

The air in the tent was charged with her fury. Ever since her husband died, the provincial Roman government had treated Iceni lands as their own. The Romans had disregarded their customs, and had raped their lands just as they had raped the heirs to Prasutagus' crown.

"It's a fight we can't possibly win!" her General argued. "Going against better trained, better armed soldiers is suicide!"

"By all means, Conmael! Roll over like a dog to be whipped!" she shouted. "You're welcome to tend your gardens and live in cowardice! I, however, will not!

"I may be a woman, but the gods also know me as a warrior!" she raged. "I refuse to let these conquering brutes bully their way onto Iceni lands! If you want to be their slaves, so be it! Go! Throw yourselves on their mercies! But as you are offering them your arse, know that I, a woman, fought while you decided to live in bondage!"

The men all exchanged looks. She had struck at their most vulnerable point: their pride. And well she knew it.

"What do you suggest, my lady?" her Chief Councillor, Irial, asked.

"We must take back what is rightfully ours," she stated. "We take Camulodunon."

The rest of the evening and into the night, they planned. Strategies were planned and routes were plotted. By morning, all had heard that Boudica would revolt against Rome.

Within two years, three outposts were sacked, over seventy thousand were killed, a Legion was annihilated, and even an Emperor feared her. Her!

A woman.


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
313 words
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (fearless))
{OOC: I know some community somewhere has posted a "fury" prompt, I'm just too lazy to look it up.}

October, 60CE
Near present-day Norfolk
Alias: Boudica



I stormed into the tent where my generals and council had gathered. The wounds to my back still oozed blood and the warm liquid trickled down between my buttocks. They (five generals, two advisors and a Druid) looked up from the war table around which they all stood. Braziers of flame illuminated their curious glances.

“My lady,” Chief Councilor Aedan greeted me.

I ignored him and the glances of the others. Instead, I stripped bare to the skin so all could witness the results of the flogging I had received at Roman hands. They fell silent as the welts and gashes were revealed. I slammed my hand on the war table, feeling the wood shudder beneath my wrath.

“I will have vengeance!” I shouted. “Not for myself, but for my daughters.”

“Your daughters?” the Druid asked, confused.

“Yes, Irial,” I hissed. “Both were raped. By Romans.”

Scowls formed at my blunt words. Each began to murmur to the others in angered tones. This was worse, oh so much worse, than the Romans taxing our people to build their temples on our holiest of grounds.

“Someone needs to be made an example,” I seethed. “I don’t care who, or how, but they will pay for this. I will have my vengeance, or I will die trying. Rome needs to learn that they cannot simply deflower my daughters without retribution. I want Nero himself to remember my name, and my fury. And I want every last putrid Roman to leave these lands and return to Gaul with terror in their hearts. Now go!

Each bowed their heads and murmured a “yes, my lady,” before leaving the tent until only the Druid remained. I shook my head, feeling my coppery locks sticking to the blood of my back. I did not want to know what the gods had in store for one hapless Roman whose only crime was his chosen occupation.


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
316 words



Mun note: This does not reflect on any other character(s). As far as she knows, the Roman could've been strung up by his balls to rot drawn & quartered.

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