[My name is Rebecca/1839-1843/Wales&Sons/Open]

((Basically the English set up toll booths on the roads roads along South Wales, the Welsh being the generally poor people they were couldn't afford to use the roads anymore. Deciding to put a stop to it a huge man named Thomas Rees dressed as a Welsh woman, blackened his face with coal, then destroyed the gate. The rioters called themselves the daughters of Rebecca (the name of a bible scripture that resonated with the frustrated farmers.))

It was nightime in the Ree household, Eleri had just finished preparing the fruit for the loaf of Bara Birth she was going to make to tomorrow. Wiping the excess flour on her hands onto her nightgown, Eleri transferred the wooden bowl into a nice cool dry place for the night. She was about to clean the work area when she heard a loud cacophony of sound come from upstairs followed by Cadfael yelling then hushed passionate whispers. Wales sighed as she assumed that Cardiff and Swansea got into another little spat, meaning it was her cue to go and break it up. Ascending the stairs candlestick in hand, the young women noticed a few oddities, one of them including the fact that the noise wasn't coming from either of the boy's rooms but in fact her own. Pushing the door open Eleri would see a sight that would forever haunt her for the rest of her life.

Cadfael and Dylan looked like sheep caught in the stare of a wolf, as they were adorned in nothing but her undergarments and skirts. Eleri was shocked, unable to speak for the first time in her life. Cadefael was the first to speak by bursting out “Eleri! It's not what you think!” For his part Swansea only smacked him upside the head, glowering he spoke with frustration. “You not making things any better.” The young roman boy only responded “Ow what in bloody hell was that for?! Besides Thomas was the one who started it!”

Shrieking Eleri “THOMAS?! Thomas is 20 stones of pure muscle and you mean to tell me that he prancing around in my delicate undergarments?! And what are you too doing for that matter?! I swear to god you two if I find any suspicious stains I'll claw out your eyeballs and shove them down your throats so you can watch me slit your necks with my bare hands!” Both boys looked like all the blood had drained from their faces, before Swansea finally spoke up. “the Eng-ENGLISH!..It-s-s-a-disguse mother! We were going to demolish the toll roads I swear!” But it didn't register to Eleri before she started a second rant. “I bet it was that bloody fru-fru french boy that turned you two in.........oh....well then you'll both need a bonnet.” Stunned the two boys watched their bipolar mother go into her drawers and pull out two bonnets to cover their heads with. Sharing a glance with each other when they were each handed their own, Cardiff stuttered out a thank you before both scuttled out the door. Whispering to the silent Dylan after they left the house Cadfael said “I really thought she was going to kill us.” before proceeding to the toll road, pitchforks in hand.

Anthony frowned lightly at the fact he'd been told to go and check up on these toll roads. What was this some kind of punishment? He hadn't done anything wrong-- sure, he'd mouthed back to Arthur but surely being sent across the country to where the backwards Welsh idiots were was too harsh a punishment for what he'd done.

Besides, what if he saw on of them shagging a sheep? He didn't reall want to know what would happen if he saw that. Even just the thought of it made him shiver. Of course, since the man had very little experience when it came to defending himself, he'd had a few soldiers accompany him. After all, these people couldn't be trusted.

Well, they seemed to be. . . In order? What was he even supposed to be bloody checking?! Anthony's frown turned to a scowl. He had been about to turn to the men with him and ask to be taken home, had he not spotted the figures in the distance. Frown what he could tell they were. . . Women?

. . . Bloody hell-- Welsh women were hideous.

[[ /shot ]]

((…:I it's offical you made a chopped strawberry come out of my nose from laughing so hard, it hurt.))

Meanwhile Good ol' Cadfael a real site in his mother's garments was giving orders to the men holding various gardening supplies. Their faces were dark with coal and ash that they stole from the kicthen, their hairy legs peaking out from under the large skirts. “Alright men, remember the signal is when Mrs. Sion approaches the gate and says  "My children, something is in my way" then raises her hand. At which time we appear and chop down the gates. Got that Dylan?”

Dylan seemed to be distracted, glancing at the gate he noticed something peculiar. “Cadfael! look at the gate! Do you bloody see that?!” Looking at the gate Cardiff started chuckling “Well if it isn't the Queen of London himself. It looks like we need to roll out the welcome wagon boys.” The gang cheered raising their torches in glee waiting patiently for Mrs. Sion to signal them. Finally she approached the gate and raised her right hand, the mob whooped and hollered with enthusiasm. Descending from the hill they tackled the gate with the sharp edges of their gardening equipment. The biggest of them which was the butcher, fishermen and Thomas tackled the guards to the ground while the paperboy ans Swansea picked up their rifles while they were struggling on the ground. Cadfael on the other hand was lighting fire to the wooden with his torch.

[[ C| Hurr. <3 ]]

And now the hideous women were charging at them? What was--

Oh bollocks.

Anthony twitched, stepping back to be behind the soldiers, not that they hadn't charged to meet the women-- Now, they were clearly just men in dresses now that he could actually see them. It was incredibly tempting to make some kind of joke about how there wasn't much difference, but now was not the time.

He kept back as they over powered his men. He couldn't say he was surprised though, Anthony just hadn't expected them to be so. . . Large. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pretty much terrified at this point. Saying he was outnumbered by these- Thse Barbarians, would be an understatement. Was he still meant to call them barbarians? He wasn't sure, but since he was born that is what he had known them as-- Even if one of them was his cousin, he was still too far away from him to really care too much.

Anthony gulped then scowled at them to keep from looking scared. Like hell if he was going to let a bunch of queers in dresses see him nervous. And besides, he was English; keeping a stiff upperlip in these sort of situations were a must. Again, as tempting as it was to voice his previous joke he decided that it would be best not to word it and stayed silent as he glanced at the other powered soldiers. . . For the moment at least he'd keep it shut.

Cadfael had finally finish setting fire to the entire gate, watching it light up in glee. He looked over to Dylan to see if he had the situation handled, they usually had to disarm the guards first in case the chose to take a stab at the old lady in spite when they saw the mob running down the mountain. Setting down the torch he yelled out for the men to put all the wood on the center of the road so they wouldn't start a brush fire. Undoing the knot that tied their horses to the post, he gave them a good swat on the arse, telling them to go home. When they finally made their way half way down he Strutted his way toward the guards he offhandedly told Dylan to strip them and throw their clothes in the fire but make sure that they were unharmed. Looking toward their silent cousin he smirked.

“You know it's standard procedure to make you strip and walk home on foot in shame scouse. But we wouldn't such a strapping young lass such as yourself catching a phenomena now so we boys! ” The available men clapped and cheered jovially "So tell me what do you think your compensation should be to these poor welsh folk?" His tone was clear and condescending as he spoke to the man that held much of resentment.

How uncouth. Trust a bunch of babarians like them to make a big fire and strip people. Usually, the thought would make him smirk, but he had to remind himself that this wasn't the time. Especially since he'd grown attatched to his clothes, looks like he'd just have to barter with them for his dignity. That alone was a big chip to it.

Or more like a crack.

“You know it's standard procedure to make you strip and walk home on foot in shame scouse."

What.

What?!

He wasn't a scouse, that was that fucking northern bastard Liverpool. Not him. Anthony visibly twitched, too annoyed to care or even listen to what he was saying, of course until he was asking for compensation. As much as he'd have loved to sit there for a few hours thinking about llthe things he could to to his so called sibling, he had someone better to take his annoyance out on.

"Compensation? Tch. Don't make me laugh, I'm not giving you sheep shagging bastards Jack shit. You should I'm even responding after you compared me to a Northerner." He growled before smirking a bit again to cover up his nervousness, "Futue te ipsum.*" Well, he knew at least one of them should understand it. And it was probably going to lead to him being injured in some way- but it was worth it.

[[ *it's basically 'Go fuck yourself' in Latin. xD ]]

His father's tongue!
This two bit idiot dared to insult him in his father's tongue?! (his latin was quite rusty but he could still make out bits and pieces from time spent with his father)
Cardiff's nostrils flared, exhaling so some of the dust came off of his face like a dragon pouring excess ash from his fiery gullet. Through gritted teeth he responded in his father's tongue “A word of warning damnant quodnon intelligunt* so it's a bad idea to insult people in a dying language.” Instantly his face morphed into a smile, his role of the jester restored. “Did you hear that boys?! The lass doesn't want us to group him with the northerns but he's stereotyping us! Let's show him what we do to those who call us sheepshaggers in these parts!” Again the men's forlorn faces were replaced smirks and laughter. “Hey be a dear briallu, run home and get the rope and the special sauce please.” Dylan roared in laughter before saluting Cadfael and running the five minute walk to their house. “He'll only be a few minutes in the mean time Thomas why don't you change him into something a bit more comfortable we wouldn't want our guest to uncomfortable now would we?”

[[means : people condemn what they do not understand, I made the saying a bit more general because I didn't want him to have the knowledge of latin that would make it god-modding :I]]

Anthony had aleardy pretty much dug his own grave at this point, which he was fully aware of. He may as well dig it a bit deeper, he decided as he smirked. After all, there was no way that he'd be able to out run them and he was unarmed, the only thing that would be gained, or rather lost from that would be dignity. And by the sounds of it, he was going to need as much as he could get. And oh no; he wasn't gonna let him start smiling again so soon.

"What's wrong cousin-- Though really, I suppose we're brothers. Unfortunatly," he sneered, "And I'm surprised that you forgotten your first language so easily. My, my, you must be stupid. Now wonder you looked so angry. Or maybe it's because he liked me better," His smirk grew as his head tilted to the side, even though the main reason he'd kept up with his Latin was because he didn't really want to look stupid infront of Oxford or Cambridge. But that didn't really matter to him, "after all, I was made the capital of Briton instead of Winchester. . . But he is a bit of an idiot."

He logic was questionable, but his face still dropped at the mention of rope and the way he had said 'special sauce'. He scowled again, half to try and mask the fear and half because he was annoyed at himself for shaking. He was meant to be acting unafraid of the- how was he supposed to hide that?! His eyes narrowed.

"What exactly are you planning?" He hissed, "I'll make sure that it's done to you worse." Perhaps now wasn't the time for throwing threats around, but what else could he do? He definatly couldn't fight them, even if there was just one. He wasn't even sure if he could keep the threat.

Pangs of abandonment seared in his mind, his smile though still remained glue to his face but this time only more sugary and much more sinister . “That's right whore of the sea my daddy left me, oh I'm sorry did you expect to cry a river? Oh my how inconsiderate of me but really who has time to suck the attention out of two male arseholes at once oh mighty prince brown-noser? Afterall we can't all be as smart and as beautiful as you, your majesty.”

Cadfael curtsied like a women would in the presence of the in-laws she secretly hate, shallow and disrespectful. “Thomas if you may please remove his majesty clothes so he may be presented properly of one of his high-class and station.” The sound of clothes ripping filled the air as Thomas yanked them right off the English boy's body. The men laughed at Cardiff's antics, usually Cadfael was the type to punch somebody in the face and then ask questions later. But right now his heart wasn't in to beating this fucking idiot into the ground, his father was still a sore subject for him despite whatever he told everyone else. It was painful when he realized that he wouldn't becoming back long after Rome left him by himself, maybe he was stupid.

Just as Cadfael had started snickering himself Dylan had arrived with the jar of his mothers' Alfalfa extract a strong sheep attractant and a few yards of rope. Throwing the rope to Thomas Dylan shouted “A hog tie for the idiot if you will, sister.” Cadfael had to add “you forgot to address him as your royal idiot.” Chuckling, as Swansea popped the lid off the alfalfa extract he then began to smirk. “Should you do the honors or shall I?”

Anthony couldn't help but stare at his response. He'd expected him to be more angry than anything, but he couldn't tell if he was being cocky or hiding that anger that the Londoner had intended to evoke. . . But did he really not care? He couldn't explain it, but he felt. . . Jealous, a feeling which was clear on his face at that point. He had been told that they weren't coming back but he hadn't believed them, or rather; he’d denied it. He still found himself unable to talk politely to the Italian city of Rome since he associated him with that bastard. He probably wouldn’t have cared so much if it wasn’t for the four hundred years he’d spent alone afterwards—But now wasn’t the time for being bitter.

He looked up at the man that could have easily been twice his weight just by looking at his build, scowling as his red uniform was ripped off of him. He hadn’t noticed how cold it was until he was stark naked, but it was understandable. “If you’d asked I’d have taken them off,” he scowled, looking at what was left of the jacket.

“I guess it’s too late to say sorry for calling you a sheepshagger,” he sneered, eyeing the jar before scowling at the rope, “And what the hell is that?”

Cadfael raised an eyebrow “I distinctly remember that we gave you a choice and you insulted us.” There was a few unmentionables in the Ree household, cardinal rules that allowed for a happy functional household. One was never talk about their fathers, not for the reason one might think. Eleri was perfectly fine with criticizing the men who left their children on her doorsteps, but the children who were left behind were not. Two was never say the word sheep shagger in fear that Eleri would appear with a bar of soap and no supper. Unknowingly his cousin had broke two of the cardinal rules and that alone was enough to cause Cardiff's spite.

Dylan touched his shoulder, breaking him from his reprieve, as he noticed that London was on the ground hog tied. He smiled mischievously, taking the jar of sheep feed from Swansea “I think I shall do the honors my dear sister.” Undoing the lid to the jar holding the foul smelling liquid he tipped it over Anthony letting it drizzle on him. “We like to call sheep bait, you see it's made from there favorite food so in a couple hours when they are released from their gates, well....let's just say you'll be the prettiest girl in the whole farm yard. This jar is good for at least thirty-two feedings split between a few dozen hungry sheep it might lasts a few days maybe? That sound right to you Dylan?” Dylan knew Cadfael was exaggerating on the number of hours this would last by why spoil the fun? “ No I'd say a few weeks at the very least.”

The shit eating grin on Cadfael's face only grew wider. “Oh but don't worry we'll call the English sheriffs at lunch time. They take sheep mishaps very seriously in Wales first they take your statement as well's as the owners of the sheep. And then there's barristers that you have to explain what happened to you. It's all very fun really, the children especially love to tease on their way to grammar school....Well, were off ! Have fun cousin!” The mob ran as quickly up the road as they could manage.