APH: Only Light and Momentary [3/?]
Title: Only Light and Momentary [3/?]
Author: grosse_averse; tattedemalion on ff.net
Characters/Pairings: The relationship between Canada and the Netherlands will take centre stage - however, other characters involved in their relations will also appear.
Rated: It varies. T for now, for swearing and suggestive material
Summary: A chronicle of Matthew’s relationship with Lars, from 1611 to present day. In this chapter, the Dutch Occupation of Acadia, 1674-1678.
Notes: So, this always happens guys. I get excited about a story, I update every day or two. Then as I get busier the updates slow...but! This story is proving itself very easy to write, so I'm hoping I can get this finished up pretty painlessly. Fingers crossed!
Chapter One (1611)
Chapter Two (~1640)
A man is planting bottles. Matthew is confused. He watches as the other bends over, places a bottle in the hole that he has dug, and then shovels dirt over top of it.
“Qu’est ce que vous faites?” he asks hesitantly. The man swivels his head around to look at Matthew, and grins toothily.
With one hand he gestures to the area around them with triumph. “Nova Hollandia.” he says matter-of-factly. Matthew blinks, and looks around.
“Non.” he says gently. “Ce, c’est Acadie.” And this is Acadia, Fort Pentagouet to be exact, and Matthew still does not understand why bottles are being planted until the man beckons to someone behind Matthew and he is instantly seized.
Matthew lets out an exclamation and twists in his captors' arms, but he is dragged back to the Fort and thrown into a cell with a group of surly French soldiers.
Talking to them, Matthew gleans that this stranger is a Dutch sea captain, who had barged in and overwhelmed them quite easily and proclaimed that Acadia now belonged to the Dutch. It is a silly, arrogant claim and Matthew’s ears burn at the very thought of it. Confidently, he tells himself that Francis will not stand for this, and will come to right everything very soon. Inside, he is less sure. Francis is in Europe, fighting another battle that Matthew knows little about, and the colony has not forgotten what he said to Lars all those years ago. He wonders what Lars is doing right now.
In the late afternoon the man from before, Captain Aernoutsz, comes in, speaking to someone out of Matthew’s vision. They laugh, and Matthew registers the door closing before he hears footsteps.
Lars steps around the corner, a teasing grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “Well, well, isn’t this an interesting situation?” he asks, and Matthew’s vision goes red.
“You bastard!” he yelps, on his feet in a second and pressing himself against the bars. The man assigned to watch the prisoners jumps forward but Lars holds up a hand to stop him.
“You’ve gotten a little taller.” Lars notes, before addressing the guard. “Let him out, I’ll deal with him.”
“No you won’t!” Matthew hisses, but the guard pays little attention to him, unlocking the cell and allowing Lars to pull Matthew out by his forearm. Matthew struggles, and as punishment the guard hands Lars a pair of manacles and Matthew’s arms are secured behind his back.
It is only when Matthew starts swearing in French that Lars’s cheerful smile flickers.
“Zwijgen.” he tells the little colony firmly, then leads him out of the cell and across the fort to the military offices. There, he dumps Matthew on a small cot and moves off to the other side of the room, where he has set up a desk for himself.
Lars seats himself at the desk, humming something under his breath as he takes out a pen and begins writing something.
“Aernoutsz tells me that your Fort was very easy to capture.” Lars remarks; though his back is away from Matthew, the younger can hear the smile in his tone. “Perhaps I will prove Francis wrong after all when I call you Nova Hollandia, hm, konijn?”
Matthew does not say anything - he has gotten to his feet silently, approaching the man from behind. When Lars turns, about to say something, Matthew pounces on him, making up for his lack of hands with his teeth.
The scuffle does not last long - Lars shoves him onto the floor and pins him there with his boot. Matthew writhes under him, panting. “I will drive you out!” he hisses. “I don’t want you here!”
Lars looks unimpressed and crouches down beside him. “You think you’re important enough to tell people what they can and can’t take from you?” he asks. “You are not a country, konijn. You have no say in anything.”
“I - I do have a say!” Matthew protests, still squirming on the floor. Lars sneers.
“Oh, so you want to be like a country, hm?” he asks, hauling Matthew to his feet. “Is that it? You want to be treated like a country?”
“I am a country!” Matthew shoots back. Lars laughed.
“You are far from it.” he counters with a disparaging look. “But, if you really want to be treated like a country, I can “invade” you in the way those old nations of Europe do.”
Then Lars pushes Matthew down so the boy is on his knees in front of him. Matthew stares at the front of the European country’s trousers, and for the first time feels a spark of fear.
He is not completely innocent - he has heard of these things from Francis, and stories from his people about what men and women do, but the absurdity of Lars’s statement causes him to stare blankly ahead.
“If I am a country I - I have to do this?” he whispers, fearfully. Lars slips a hand softly into Matthew’s hair, petting him. Matthew resents the implication.
“Has France not told you how they play over there?” he whispers - the hand in Matthew’s hair slips down the side of his face. A thumb brushes his lips, and without thinking Matthew parts them.
The thumb slips a little (accidentally or on purpose? Matthew can’t tell, he is not looking at Lars’s eyes), sinking past Matthew’s lips, and the man above him gasps when it touches the tip of Matthew’s tongue.
His reaction surprises Matthew - the younger blonde frowns, raises his eyes to take in Lars’s face.
Lars is looking back down at him; that sneer that he has worn in the past is gone, revealing the clear, friendly face Matthew remembers from the first time they met, and his eyes are startlingly soft. Matthew slides his tongue forward a bit more, and Lars does not remove his thumb.
“I would not do such a thing to you,” Lars says, dropping to the floor in front of Matthew and gathering him in his arms. “I would not subject you to that.” he mumbles something else that sounds like, though I am tempted.
Matthew pretends not to have noticed. Hands still cuffed behind his back, he nuzzles Lars’s shoulder.
“I am sorry.” Lars says finally. “For...for everything. For the H-Haudenosaunee.” the Dutch nation stumbles over the other name for the Iroquois, but to Matthew it is sincere and tender. “You and I, Matthew, we do not see eye to eye on many things. And for that I am sorry, as well.”
Matthew does not say anything; he neither forgives him nor rejects his apology, and Lars does not expect him to do. One apology will not wash away years of fighting. Though it is a start.
Lars presses his face into Matt’s neck before releasing him.
“I’ll uncuff you,” he begins warningly, shaking a finger at Matthew. “But I will expect you to behave yourself. You have quite a vicious bite.”
Matthew laughs, then winces and apologizes. Lars removes the manacles, give Matthew’s wrists a quick, apologetic rub. He leads Matthew to sit on the cot while he finishes up his documents.
It is like old times, at Lars’s camp - Matthew is taught how to play Jass, and when the sky darkens he curls up on the cot and Lars tells him stories from his homeland - about Kinderdijk, and Reynard the fox. Matthew giggles and tells him that Lars’s Reynard is like Matthew’s Napi; at this, Lars smiles and pats his head.
But it is not old times, and both of them are aware of that. Matthew is cognisant, now, of that other side of Lars, the one who sneers and whose eyes get stormy and who speaks of things Matthew barely understands.
Matthew asks if Lars, like Francis, kisses friends on their cheeks when greeting each other. Lars nods and tells him yes, but usually the men shake hands. Matthew, for his part, secretly thrills when Francis kisses him - it makes him feel important, if only for a second.
Lars relents under his pestering, and when they bid each other goodnight (Matthew will take the floor, Lars the cot), Lars tells him that they will kiss three times. Matthew thinks he understands; he places his lips against Lars’s right cheek, then his left. He does not know where to put the third one, so when Lars comes close again he kisses him on the mouth.
Lars freezes. Matthew pulls back a little bit, nervous, an apology already started, but Lars tilts his head, slides a hand to the back of Matthew’s neck and closes the small distance between them again, eyelids dropping so his grey eyes are merely slits. His lips are soft and warm against Matthew’s and he tastes salty, like salmiakdrops. Matthew murmurs into his mouth, presses closer, and that is when Lars seems to remember himself. He pushes Matthew away, hands on his shoulders, breathing a bit more noticeable. Matthew feels hurt, and it must show - Lars pets his head, soothing him.
“Sorry.” he apologizes. “I got...carried away. That is not how Dutch people say goodnight.”
“Oh.” Matthew turns red with embarrassment. “But where does the third kiss go?”
Lars tries to hide his amusement behind a serious face - instead, he reaches out and taps Matthew’s right cheek with a finger. Matthew catches the finger, kisses its tip, and lays it against his cheek again, eyes fixed on Lars the entire time.
Lars shivers, then ever so slowly slides over Matthew, forcing the younger boy down onto the cot.
“I have wanted you,” Lars tells him, kissing the underside of Matthew’s jaw, “since 1624. I have wanted you for more than just your land.”
That sends pinwheels of warmth soaring through Matthew’s stomach - this is the first time someone has told him that they want Matthew. Not Matthew’s furs or Matthew’s woods or Matthew’s vast space. Just Matthew, and he beams a trusting smile up at Lars. Lars reaches down to smooth away Matthew’s bangs.
“But I can’t do this.” he tells Matthew, then sits up, drawing his long, pale limbs to the far end of the bed where he sits, perched, watching Matthew with his grey eyes. “Not now. You are too young.”
Matthew bristles, and is about to tell him that no, he has been there since Skywoman fell from the heavens and found the Great Turtle (though his memory is fuzzy and his borders more so) but Lars stops him.
“Your land may be old, konijn, but your mind is not so much. Tell me, do you even know what two men can do to pleasure each other?”
Matthew informs him that he thinks kissing is rather nice. He pouts when Lars laughs at him so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes.
“Too precious.” he chides, pressing a palm to Matthew’s cheek. “I am glad Francis has not managed to rub off on you. I hope you stay that way until the next time we meet.”
Matthew frowns. “You’re leaving?” he asks, and Lars smoothes his hair down.
“I need to return to Europe.” he explains. “Aernoutsz will take your soldiers with him when he leaves for Boston and will release them there.”
“I’ll miss you.” Matthew tells him honestly, and Lars smiles.
“I’ll miss you too.” he admits. “But I really think you’re going to make it, konijn. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but one day you’re going to be your own. You are going to stand up for yourself and people will notice you as a country.”
Matthew’s eyelids flutter rapturously at Lars’s words. “You really think so?” he whispers.
“I promise.” Lars says. This has the reverse effect on Matthew, who opens his eyes to shoot a heated look at him.
“Don’t promise.” he declares. “Europeans never keep their promises.”
At first he is afraid he has offended Lars - but eventually Lars chuckles.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he admits. “All right, then. I believe it. From my heart.”
Matthew looks sleepily content at his words, and Lars is feeling generous enough to let the colony curl up on the cot. He kisses his curls and slips down onto the floor, where he unrolls a mattress from under the cot.
The next morning when Matthew wakes, Lars has already left. Matthew does not feel too bad - around his neck is fastened a short chain, one that was not there before.
On the chain is a little pendant. An iron rabbit.
& & &
Netherlands,
I don't know what in the Holy Mother's name you think you are doing, but your little stunt does not change anything. If I wasn't so busy stopping your little boats, I'd tell you to not even bother. Acadie is mine, Mathieu is mine, and just because you have taken two forts does not change anything.
Yours,
France
& & &
France,
Maybe you should keep an eye on your precious little colony. I will see you at Kijkduin.
Yours,
Netherlands.
& & &
Translations:
Qu’est ce vous faites? = French for “What are you doing?”
Nova Hollandia = Dutch for New Holland
Ce, c’est Acadie = French for “This, this is Acadia”
Zwijgen = Dutch for “be quiet”
Historical Notes:
In 1674 a Dutchman, Captain Jurriaen Aernoutsz, and his men captured Fort Pentagouet in Acadia, as well as another fort in Jemseg. He buried bottles at each fort with messages inside proclaiming Acadia as belonging to the Dutch. He sailed back to Boston with things he stole from the forts, as well as prisoners, and left them there. Eventually he was caught and tried as a pirate, but ultimately released. The Dutch claimed on paper that Acadia belonged to them, when in reality it was still under French control. The Dutch-Franco wars were going on at this time, and when the peace treaty was signed in 1678, the Dutch withdrew their “claim” on Acadia.
Jass is a trick-taking card game from the Netherlands. God help me, the only thing I can play is Go Fish when it comes to cards, so if you want an explanation, you should Google it! It looks quite fun.
Kinderdijk is Dutch for “child’s dike”. During the Saint Elizabeth flood of 1421, there was a story that after the storm subsided a man went to the dike to see the damage. He glimpsed a child’s cradle floating on the water. On it was a cat, jumping from one side to the other to keep the cradle balanced, so no water could get in. Once it got closer and the man was able to fish it out of the water, he discovered there was a child inside, asleep and oblivious to its surroundings. They were the only survivors. Apparently the place where the cradle hit land is where the town of “Kinderdijk” is today!
Reynard the trickster fox is originally from France, though his influence spread to England, Germany, and the Netherlands.
Napi is a trickster from the lore of the Blackfoot; he is also known as “Old Man”. When I was a child my favourite book was one called, “Napi Stories”, a compilation of mostly “origin stories” - why baby birds have big red mouths, why bobcats have short tails, etc... Napi as a trickster is at some points clever and wise, and at others quite rude and frightening. I think when I was little the name I called him was “jerk”.
The “Skywoman” Matthew mentions is from the Iroquois creation story. According to them, in the beginning Sky People lived in the sky since there was no earth below. Then a woman fell to the earth below and landed on the back of a giant turtle. Eventually that turtle became the land.
"If I wasn't so busy stopping your little boats..." - Francis and Lars are referring to the Battle of Kijkduin, a naval battle in the Franco-Dutch Wars, which ran from 1672 to 1678. Spoilers? The combined forces of French and English tried to invade the Netherlands but were totally thwarted. Then England pulled out of the war! XD So, Francis was very busy trying to stop Lars's little boats...
Author: grosse_averse; tattedemalion on ff.net
Characters/Pairings: The relationship between Canada and the Netherlands will take centre stage - however, other characters involved in their relations will also appear.
Rated: It varies. T for now, for swearing and suggestive material
Summary: A chronicle of Matthew’s relationship with Lars, from 1611 to present day. In this chapter, the Dutch Occupation of Acadia, 1674-1678.
Notes: So, this always happens guys. I get excited about a story, I update every day or two. Then as I get busier the updates slow...but! This story is proving itself very easy to write, so I'm hoping I can get this finished up pretty painlessly. Fingers crossed!
Chapter One (1611)
Chapter Two (~1640)
A man is planting bottles. Matthew is confused. He watches as the other bends over, places a bottle in the hole that he has dug, and then shovels dirt over top of it.
“Qu’est ce que vous faites?” he asks hesitantly. The man swivels his head around to look at Matthew, and grins toothily.
With one hand he gestures to the area around them with triumph. “Nova Hollandia.” he says matter-of-factly. Matthew blinks, and looks around.
“Non.” he says gently. “Ce, c’est Acadie.” And this is Acadia, Fort Pentagouet to be exact, and Matthew still does not understand why bottles are being planted until the man beckons to someone behind Matthew and he is instantly seized.
Matthew lets out an exclamation and twists in his captors' arms, but he is dragged back to the Fort and thrown into a cell with a group of surly French soldiers.
Talking to them, Matthew gleans that this stranger is a Dutch sea captain, who had barged in and overwhelmed them quite easily and proclaimed that Acadia now belonged to the Dutch. It is a silly, arrogant claim and Matthew’s ears burn at the very thought of it. Confidently, he tells himself that Francis will not stand for this, and will come to right everything very soon. Inside, he is less sure. Francis is in Europe, fighting another battle that Matthew knows little about, and the colony has not forgotten what he said to Lars all those years ago. He wonders what Lars is doing right now.
In the late afternoon the man from before, Captain Aernoutsz, comes in, speaking to someone out of Matthew’s vision. They laugh, and Matthew registers the door closing before he hears footsteps.
Lars steps around the corner, a teasing grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “Well, well, isn’t this an interesting situation?” he asks, and Matthew’s vision goes red.
“You bastard!” he yelps, on his feet in a second and pressing himself against the bars. The man assigned to watch the prisoners jumps forward but Lars holds up a hand to stop him.
“You’ve gotten a little taller.” Lars notes, before addressing the guard. “Let him out, I’ll deal with him.”
“No you won’t!” Matthew hisses, but the guard pays little attention to him, unlocking the cell and allowing Lars to pull Matthew out by his forearm. Matthew struggles, and as punishment the guard hands Lars a pair of manacles and Matthew’s arms are secured behind his back.
It is only when Matthew starts swearing in French that Lars’s cheerful smile flickers.
“Zwijgen.” he tells the little colony firmly, then leads him out of the cell and across the fort to the military offices. There, he dumps Matthew on a small cot and moves off to the other side of the room, where he has set up a desk for himself.
Lars seats himself at the desk, humming something under his breath as he takes out a pen and begins writing something.
“Aernoutsz tells me that your Fort was very easy to capture.” Lars remarks; though his back is away from Matthew, the younger can hear the smile in his tone. “Perhaps I will prove Francis wrong after all when I call you Nova Hollandia, hm, konijn?”
Matthew does not say anything - he has gotten to his feet silently, approaching the man from behind. When Lars turns, about to say something, Matthew pounces on him, making up for his lack of hands with his teeth.
The scuffle does not last long - Lars shoves him onto the floor and pins him there with his boot. Matthew writhes under him, panting. “I will drive you out!” he hisses. “I don’t want you here!”
Lars looks unimpressed and crouches down beside him. “You think you’re important enough to tell people what they can and can’t take from you?” he asks. “You are not a country, konijn. You have no say in anything.”
“I - I do have a say!” Matthew protests, still squirming on the floor. Lars sneers.
“Oh, so you want to be like a country, hm?” he asks, hauling Matthew to his feet. “Is that it? You want to be treated like a country?”
“I am a country!” Matthew shoots back. Lars laughed.
“You are far from it.” he counters with a disparaging look. “But, if you really want to be treated like a country, I can “invade” you in the way those old nations of Europe do.”
Then Lars pushes Matthew down so the boy is on his knees in front of him. Matthew stares at the front of the European country’s trousers, and for the first time feels a spark of fear.
He is not completely innocent - he has heard of these things from Francis, and stories from his people about what men and women do, but the absurdity of Lars’s statement causes him to stare blankly ahead.
“If I am a country I - I have to do this?” he whispers, fearfully. Lars slips a hand softly into Matthew’s hair, petting him. Matthew resents the implication.
“Has France not told you how they play over there?” he whispers - the hand in Matthew’s hair slips down the side of his face. A thumb brushes his lips, and without thinking Matthew parts them.
The thumb slips a little (accidentally or on purpose? Matthew can’t tell, he is not looking at Lars’s eyes), sinking past Matthew’s lips, and the man above him gasps when it touches the tip of Matthew’s tongue.
His reaction surprises Matthew - the younger blonde frowns, raises his eyes to take in Lars’s face.
Lars is looking back down at him; that sneer that he has worn in the past is gone, revealing the clear, friendly face Matthew remembers from the first time they met, and his eyes are startlingly soft. Matthew slides his tongue forward a bit more, and Lars does not remove his thumb.
“I would not do such a thing to you,” Lars says, dropping to the floor in front of Matthew and gathering him in his arms. “I would not subject you to that.” he mumbles something else that sounds like, though I am tempted.
Matthew pretends not to have noticed. Hands still cuffed behind his back, he nuzzles Lars’s shoulder.
“I am sorry.” Lars says finally. “For...for everything. For the H-Haudenosaunee.” the Dutch nation stumbles over the other name for the Iroquois, but to Matthew it is sincere and tender. “You and I, Matthew, we do not see eye to eye on many things. And for that I am sorry, as well.”
Matthew does not say anything; he neither forgives him nor rejects his apology, and Lars does not expect him to do. One apology will not wash away years of fighting. Though it is a start.
Lars presses his face into Matt’s neck before releasing him.
“I’ll uncuff you,” he begins warningly, shaking a finger at Matthew. “But I will expect you to behave yourself. You have quite a vicious bite.”
Matthew laughs, then winces and apologizes. Lars removes the manacles, give Matthew’s wrists a quick, apologetic rub. He leads Matthew to sit on the cot while he finishes up his documents.
It is like old times, at Lars’s camp - Matthew is taught how to play Jass, and when the sky darkens he curls up on the cot and Lars tells him stories from his homeland - about Kinderdijk, and Reynard the fox. Matthew giggles and tells him that Lars’s Reynard is like Matthew’s Napi; at this, Lars smiles and pats his head.
But it is not old times, and both of them are aware of that. Matthew is cognisant, now, of that other side of Lars, the one who sneers and whose eyes get stormy and who speaks of things Matthew barely understands.
Matthew asks if Lars, like Francis, kisses friends on their cheeks when greeting each other. Lars nods and tells him yes, but usually the men shake hands. Matthew, for his part, secretly thrills when Francis kisses him - it makes him feel important, if only for a second.
Lars relents under his pestering, and when they bid each other goodnight (Matthew will take the floor, Lars the cot), Lars tells him that they will kiss three times. Matthew thinks he understands; he places his lips against Lars’s right cheek, then his left. He does not know where to put the third one, so when Lars comes close again he kisses him on the mouth.
Lars freezes. Matthew pulls back a little bit, nervous, an apology already started, but Lars tilts his head, slides a hand to the back of Matthew’s neck and closes the small distance between them again, eyelids dropping so his grey eyes are merely slits. His lips are soft and warm against Matthew’s and he tastes salty, like salmiakdrops. Matthew murmurs into his mouth, presses closer, and that is when Lars seems to remember himself. He pushes Matthew away, hands on his shoulders, breathing a bit more noticeable. Matthew feels hurt, and it must show - Lars pets his head, soothing him.
“Sorry.” he apologizes. “I got...carried away. That is not how Dutch people say goodnight.”
“Oh.” Matthew turns red with embarrassment. “But where does the third kiss go?”
Lars tries to hide his amusement behind a serious face - instead, he reaches out and taps Matthew’s right cheek with a finger. Matthew catches the finger, kisses its tip, and lays it against his cheek again, eyes fixed on Lars the entire time.
Lars shivers, then ever so slowly slides over Matthew, forcing the younger boy down onto the cot.
“I have wanted you,” Lars tells him, kissing the underside of Matthew’s jaw, “since 1624. I have wanted you for more than just your land.”
That sends pinwheels of warmth soaring through Matthew’s stomach - this is the first time someone has told him that they want Matthew. Not Matthew’s furs or Matthew’s woods or Matthew’s vast space. Just Matthew, and he beams a trusting smile up at Lars. Lars reaches down to smooth away Matthew’s bangs.
“But I can’t do this.” he tells Matthew, then sits up, drawing his long, pale limbs to the far end of the bed where he sits, perched, watching Matthew with his grey eyes. “Not now. You are too young.”
Matthew bristles, and is about to tell him that no, he has been there since Skywoman fell from the heavens and found the Great Turtle (though his memory is fuzzy and his borders more so) but Lars stops him.
“Your land may be old, konijn, but your mind is not so much. Tell me, do you even know what two men can do to pleasure each other?”
Matthew informs him that he thinks kissing is rather nice. He pouts when Lars laughs at him so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes.
“Too precious.” he chides, pressing a palm to Matthew’s cheek. “I am glad Francis has not managed to rub off on you. I hope you stay that way until the next time we meet.”
Matthew frowns. “You’re leaving?” he asks, and Lars smoothes his hair down.
“I need to return to Europe.” he explains. “Aernoutsz will take your soldiers with him when he leaves for Boston and will release them there.”
“I’ll miss you.” Matthew tells him honestly, and Lars smiles.
“I’ll miss you too.” he admits. “But I really think you’re going to make it, konijn. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but one day you’re going to be your own. You are going to stand up for yourself and people will notice you as a country.”
Matthew’s eyelids flutter rapturously at Lars’s words. “You really think so?” he whispers.
“I promise.” Lars says. This has the reverse effect on Matthew, who opens his eyes to shoot a heated look at him.
“Don’t promise.” he declares. “Europeans never keep their promises.”
At first he is afraid he has offended Lars - but eventually Lars chuckles.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he admits. “All right, then. I believe it. From my heart.”
Matthew looks sleepily content at his words, and Lars is feeling generous enough to let the colony curl up on the cot. He kisses his curls and slips down onto the floor, where he unrolls a mattress from under the cot.
The next morning when Matthew wakes, Lars has already left. Matthew does not feel too bad - around his neck is fastened a short chain, one that was not there before.
On the chain is a little pendant. An iron rabbit.
& & &
Netherlands,
I don't know what in the Holy Mother's name you think you are doing, but your little stunt does not change anything. If I wasn't so busy stopping your little boats, I'd tell you to not even bother. Acadie is mine, Mathieu is mine, and just because you have taken two forts does not change anything.
Yours,
France
& & &
France,
Maybe you should keep an eye on your precious little colony. I will see you at Kijkduin.
Yours,
Netherlands.
& & &
Translations:
Qu’est ce vous faites? = French for “What are you doing?”
Nova Hollandia = Dutch for New Holland
Ce, c’est Acadie = French for “This, this is Acadia”
Zwijgen = Dutch for “be quiet”
Historical Notes:
In 1674 a Dutchman, Captain Jurriaen Aernoutsz, and his men captured Fort Pentagouet in Acadia, as well as another fort in Jemseg. He buried bottles at each fort with messages inside proclaiming Acadia as belonging to the Dutch. He sailed back to Boston with things he stole from the forts, as well as prisoners, and left them there. Eventually he was caught and tried as a pirate, but ultimately released. The Dutch claimed on paper that Acadia belonged to them, when in reality it was still under French control. The Dutch-Franco wars were going on at this time, and when the peace treaty was signed in 1678, the Dutch withdrew their “claim” on Acadia.
Jass is a trick-taking card game from the Netherlands. God help me, the only thing I can play is Go Fish when it comes to cards, so if you want an explanation, you should Google it! It looks quite fun.
Kinderdijk is Dutch for “child’s dike”. During the Saint Elizabeth flood of 1421, there was a story that after the storm subsided a man went to the dike to see the damage. He glimpsed a child’s cradle floating on the water. On it was a cat, jumping from one side to the other to keep the cradle balanced, so no water could get in. Once it got closer and the man was able to fish it out of the water, he discovered there was a child inside, asleep and oblivious to its surroundings. They were the only survivors. Apparently the place where the cradle hit land is where the town of “Kinderdijk” is today!
Reynard the trickster fox is originally from France, though his influence spread to England, Germany, and the Netherlands.
Napi is a trickster from the lore of the Blackfoot; he is also known as “Old Man”. When I was a child my favourite book was one called, “Napi Stories”, a compilation of mostly “origin stories” - why baby birds have big red mouths, why bobcats have short tails, etc... Napi as a trickster is at some points clever and wise, and at others quite rude and frightening. I think when I was little the name I called him was “jerk”.
The “Skywoman” Matthew mentions is from the Iroquois creation story. According to them, in the beginning Sky People lived in the sky since there was no earth below. Then a woman fell to the earth below and landed on the back of a giant turtle. Eventually that turtle became the land.
"If I wasn't so busy stopping your little boats..." - Francis and Lars are referring to the Battle of Kijkduin, a naval battle in the Franco-Dutch Wars, which ran from 1672 to 1678. Spoilers? The combined forces of French and English tried to invade the Netherlands but were totally thwarted. Then England pulled out of the war! XD So, Francis was very busy trying to stop Lars's little boats...