Okay, so I decided to write a fic about the Colony of Roanoke. There are many stories about how the people there died so I wanted to write the tragedy of this failed Colony here. So in the story, Roanoke knows about her brother – America. I'm making it so that he is his own colony and she is hers. And it turns out she was there before he was so in all technicality she is his older sister.
Roanoke is trying to convince England to take the colonists out before tragedy strikes again, because apparently, there was more than one set of colonists on the island before they just gave up on it… She knows what happened before will happen again so she tries to convince Arthur as his human half to reconsider sending more colonists.
"I cannot agree to this," she said.
England looked at the small five-year old in front of him. She was a pretty young girl with sapphire blue eyes. Whenever she smiled little dimples could be seen in the corner of her lips. She looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, ever so slightly, making herself look down-right adorable in England's mind but that was just his internal 'caretaker' kicking in. But she wasn't smiling as she looked up at England. She was wearing a little blue dress that England had gotten for her because he felt that the blue complimented her hair and he didn't have very many female colonies to dote upon. She was his only one at the moment. Her red curls bounced and shone in the light of her little cottage. The candles were going to need to be replaced soon. England made a note to send over more materials for candle-making for his little colony. She need not worry about trying to fend for herself when he was there to provide for her.
She acted much more mature than any other nation, or colony for that matter, he had met before. But perhaps that was to do with all of the tragedies surrounding her land and the many mysterious circumstances that she would tell no one about concerning what happened to her colonists in the first place. But then again, maybe it was that she couldn't say anything because the people she had represented were gone but she was getting new ones because he was seeing to it. She had already seen one set of his colonists die on her lands but there was nothing she could do to help them. They just vanished one day. It was strange but no one thought that it was her fault. They just thought the colonists didn't do what they needed to in order to survive. The little colony was never at fault for anything that happened. However, it was frustrating because she knew what had happened and yet she refused to tell England what had happened so he could prevent it from happening again.
"You cannot send more people to my land," the girl said.
England raised a fine eyebrow as he stared at her expectantly. She was the first colony he had that actually spoke up to him, technically him as Arthur, not as him as the United Kingdom. She wasn't in a position where she could tell him what to do. In fact, no one could tell him what to do. He was the British Empire. He had colonies that he didn't even know what to do with. He had fought pirates off to protect the young colonies as well. He had been battling France and Spain for years and would continue battling those two for years more to come. And this little colony thought that she could tell him what he could and could not do. It was enough to make England see red. The tea she had set out for the two of them was no longer welcome in his hands. He set the cup down with a harsh clink that made the young colony flinch. Both hands were then braced upon either side of the table, ready to tip it over as an act of pure rage. And yet the colony looked up at him with those wide eyes of hers that seemed to peer into his with such childish trust.
"And why the bloody hell not?"
"They will die, England. You can feel it," the girl said, "I can feel it. Why are we even discussing this?"
England got to his feet, knocking the table over with his sudden movement. The colony's eyes widened as the tea tray crashed to the ground and her tea pot shattered. Her table smashed into the ground as well. England had hand-carved the table for her when he found her. He had nearly broken every finger in his left hand to do it and he had more than one scar on his leg from splinters and shards of wood, but it had gotten done. To see the table getting damaged was terrible for her. But it was not as terrible as when England struck her across the face with the back of his hand. She fell from her chair. She had fallen to the ground, with a soft cry. For a split second, her face was numb, before her nerves registered the swift blow and the sharp pain was enough to cause tears to well up on the brims of her eyelids. It felt like her very skin was on fire from the rippling burning sensation from her face. She pressed her hand against the offended part of her face as a feeble attempt to subdue the maddening sting that now caused her cheek to throb vigorously. She knew it was going to leave a nasty bruise. Yet her heart hurt more than her face did. She just couldn't believe he actually hit her.
England had never hit her before. And he had never hit any of his other colonies either. She had to have been the first he had smacked and it ached. England was constantly comparing her to her brother America. She was never as good as the little boy, apparently. A part of her hated him. A part of her wanted to meet him because he was family. And then yet another part of her just wanted to crawl under a rock and forget the world, and forget America for that matter, even though, technically, she was the younger sibling because America was found first. Slowly, she turned her head back from its turned position so she was facing England again. Her glare had not diminished despite the powerful blow to her face. England grabbed her arm and forced her to her feet before he wrapped his hand around her slim neck, not putting to much pressure but enough to show her that he was not playing. He had knocked her hand aside and took pride in the fact that his rings had scraped flesh. She had a small trail of blood on her face. The force of the punch was pretty hard.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that again," he said firmly.
He stared deeply into her eyes. She didn't respond to him. She merely placed her hand on the cheek that was struck and touched it lightly. She wasn't at all surprised that there was a small trail of blood trailing down her cheek to her jaw. When she pulled her fingers back they were stained red and they were sticky. She just stared at the blood in mute apathy. She really felt nothing inside, despite how she knew she was supposed to feel something. However, out of everything that hurt, it was her heart that ached the most. She knew that her heart was nothing to trust since it was so broken and shattered that if it were to be made by a child it would have glue, tape, thread, rips, tears, and cuts. It would still be falling part despite any effort the child would use to keep it together, to keep it whole, to preserve something that was supposed to be given as a gift. Her heart was beyond giving to someone else when she was the child fighting to keep it whole. No one would ever want her heart.
"Roanoke, you have seem to have forgotten you are my colony. I decide what goes on, not you."
Roanoke slowly pried England's hands off her neck with the little strength that she had as a colony, which wasn't much because honestly, she was still under British rule, under the rule of a man who probably didn't care what happened to her. However, Britain relented and let her go because a part of him was horrified that he had struck her in such a manner. She was his colony. He was supposed to take care of her and yet there he was, doing exactly what he wanted to prevent others from doing to her, and really they could do much worse than a slap across the face, but he had drawn blood and that hurt him, just as much as it hurt her. She pushed him away from her with all the strength she had. She tasted something coppery in her mouth and she realized she had bit her tongue when he had cut her with his rings. She resisted the urge to spit out the blood, but that would be rude and highly unlady like. England had taught her better than that. She would wash her mouth out after he was gone and she would be alone, again.
"The Indians that used to inhabit my land are dying, England. They are dying, right in front of me because of illnesses that your people brought."
To the day, England could not deny that he felt rage boiling beneath his skin when she said that. It wasn't his fault the Indians couldn't cope with what his people brought. It wasn't like he had enough power to vaccinate all of the people who had been living in the New World. It was survival of the fittest, where only the strong survived. Roanoke's natives were not the strong. His people were the strong. Roanoke's new people were going to be the stronger of the two societies on her land. Arthur was doing this for her own good. If she didn't have people on her land who were strong enough to live on their own then it meant that she would fade from existence. Arthur refused to let that happen to any of his colonies, especially one so young. Roanoke and America were his biggest concerns at the moment. He felt that it was cruel for his colonies to demand more of him when he had already given so much for them at the moment. He had practically moved the stars and yet they could still ask for more. It was exhausting, living up to their expectations.
"Your people are not fit to live on the land."
Now he was just insulted. His people had lived through war after bloody war. They were strong and resolute in their decisions. They were enduring people that could put up with much more hardships than he had seen some other countries endure. He had earned the right to start controlling other colonies. He was an Empire for a reason and he wouldn't have been able to remain in power if he wasn't good at his job. And what a good job he had done so far. Spain was terrified of him. France was, well, France. They never had a good relationship to start with. All of his colonies did as he told them. They followed his every order. But now, this colony was starting to get ideas? It wasn't good, especially if it led to a revolution or something because if one person rebels, they all do because they think that if they can team up together they would actually stand a chance.
He wouldn't crumble like that. He would not let this little colony ruin everything that he had worked so hard for. But what startled him, was that she requested this meeting as her human self, not as a colony. His boss didn't even know that he was there. He just thought that she wanted to see him. And yet she was involving business. It angered him. If she was going to talk business, ask as Roanoke, not as a human to see Arthur. But now that he really thought about it, he realized he never gave Roanoke a human name. She was just a nameless colony, only going by her colony name – the original failed leader of Englishmen. Maybe it was it was fate trying to tell him something as he pondered her name, tell her that she was doomed because she was named after a dead man. He wouldn't start thinking about this until many years after their conversation, once he, as Alfred put it 'pulled his head out of his ass.'
"They don't know how to take care of it. They have never farmed once in their entire life. They cannot live like the Indians do."
Now he was furious. He couldn't believe that Roanoke had the audacity to say that those savages, those ingrates, were better than his citizens were at surviving. His people had gone through much throughout his many years as a nation so they were adapt to survive through anything. Her monstrosities didn't even know what tea was before he took it over the sea and now she had the audacity to say that it wasn't good enough for her people, and that he was not allowed to send more of his people there so that they could be happy. That was the lowest of the low. Those creatures weren't civilized in the slightest. They couldn't even read or write. All of their stories were passed down by word of mouth. How were they to become a great society if they could not even tell future generations how to make themselves better except through stories about Spirits?
"And you want your precious savages to live happily ever after, is that it?" England roared.
Roanoke's eyes widened. She had expected England's anger but she had not expected it to that level. But what she was suggesting would mean the death of her. The Indians were dying. There were no more Englishmen on her lands. A colony was not a colony without people to represent. A nation was not a nation without people to represent. But this was her decision. She was doing the merciful thing, even if it meant that she would die and she might not die. It was a gamble, she knew that, but someone had to do something. Someone had to stop the humans from dying and if it wasn't going to be a nation, it was going to be a colony. She envied her brother America. He didn't have to worry about things like deciding whether or not to allow humans to come to his land, and possibly dying if the people died. He was just bigger than she was. He had more supplies and a stronger chance of survival, he always did and he always would for eons to come, it seemed.
"It is not that!" Roanoke cried, "I just don't want to see anyone else die!"
"Then you should have been stronger to protect them, love," England hissed, "You should have done your job as a nation and protected them. Now stop bothering me."
England gathered his things, not caring that in his act of violence against her, he had knocked over the table. Tea dribbled out of the broken teacups and the teapot was shattered at Roanoke's feet. She looked up at him. She was just sitting in the middle of the floor. Everything around her was in ruins. It would take her a day just to clean everything up. Perhaps even the tablecloth he had given her was ruined but he honestly didn't care. He had enough money at the moment to replace it should he chose to, once she apologized for her indecent behavior, that was. Until he got that apology, heartfelt mind you, she was just going to have to deal with having a stained table cloth. However, he could never be so heartless as to deny her the essential things – like clothes, food and other goods needed to start another town. The third time was a charm so there was no reason why this wasn't going to go right because of the luck of threes.
"Please, England, I am begging you," she whispered.
He turned to face her. She was actually on her hands and knees. Her head was bowed to him. Her hair covered her face like a veil until she looked up at him. There were tears streaking down her face. Though sad and quite heartbroken, there was still an air of wonder about her. But it was apparent that she could not see it herself. She looked absolutely terrified at the thought of sending more humans to her land. But if she had only told him what had happened to the other colonists he might have given her some leniency but all she did was shake her head and shed a single tear, every single time he mentioned them, without fail. One night he had heard her screaming in her sleep, 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please… Forgive me!' And the next morning she had acted as if nothing had happened and that she didn't have a nightmare, even when Arthur had pointed out that he had heard her screaming. She just told him it was the wind.
"Don't send humans to my land," she pleaded, "Please."
"It has already been done. Expect them soon," England said.
With that he walked away from the horror stricken colony. She just sat in the middle of the floor as he stalked towards the door. On his way out he started gathering his things. His jacket was on a rack that Roanoke had carved herself. His hat was there as well. His gloves were sitting on a small table that had been made by one of the previously dead colonists. It chilled Arthur's blood to see the furniture of a dead man in Roanoke's home. It was as if were her spoils of killing all of the colonists, having a home with such nice things but in a way it was also like keeping those things near her helped Roanoke through the grieving process because she knew those people were in a better place. Sure, it was a bit over dramatic but it was rather strange to look around Roanoke's home. Half of it was from the colonists, as gifts, the other half was from the Indians, also as gifts but from longer ago than when the colonists arrived. And although it was the last time he would ever see her, not that he knew it at the time, Arthur did remember the last words she ever said to him, however.
"I will never blame you for this, England, not once… I just hope you know that in the end…"
As good as his word, new colonists arrived in Roanoke's land. And Roanoke was there to greet them, like the good little colony that England taught her to be. Really only the leader of the lot and England knew what she was. To the other colonists, she was just a little girl that no one had paid attention to before. She tried to warn the colonists off. She told them how the other inhabitants died but all they saw was useful land. She told them everything she could about Phillip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe – the two men who found her in the middle of the forest. She told them about the Indians that lived on her lands and their disputes but danger seemed to spurn on their taste of adventure so she told of harsh winters and rough unbearable summers. They laughed and told her they had faced worse in England. She had shivered as she remembered her first encounter with the other nation. If she grew up stronger, like England she might have been strong enough to rebel but for now, she would just have to wait.
"Whatever is your name, miss?" one of the men asked.
She stared at him for a moment, and then realized that he was talking to her and not one of the other women climbing off the boat that was docked in her harbor. She blushed hotly once she thought of just how stupid she was being, like some childish school girl coming straight out of a finishing-school that England had wanted to take her to once she was strong enough to leave her citizens for a year or so. England had told her lots of things, and making herself look appealing to the other nations was one of them. She was supposed to be a good house wife, do the cooking, do the cleaning, farm, sew, make soaps, and other things like that. But Roanoke only looked like a girl of five to a human's eyes. Sure, she was bound to grow because she was getting more people on the land but she also wasn't sure for how much longer she was going to grow. And it terrified her because other lives hung in the line with hers.
"That is the name of the land," the other man said.
Roanoke nodded. This man was the leader, she could tell. He would be the one she would report to, but also the one she had to convince to leave. England had told her about him in a letter, which she had just received upon the settlers arrival. She skimmed it quickly and found herself trying to seek out her new boss, as all colonists and nations did alike. They had to find their boss, set a baseline and then do whatever their boss said, down to a T. Granted, England had power over her boss but his boss had power over England so if she could convince her boss to talk to England's boss then that would overrule England and she would win this game of wits. She would save lives while doing it because as she looked at the people in the crowd, she knew that they would meet the same ends as the other colonists did and it terrified her to the core. She simply could not allow that to happen, not to those people.
"Yes, and it is also my name," she informed them.
The man shook his head, disagreeing with her ideals about herself. The longer she looked at him, the more she had 'that' feeling. This man was going to be her boss so what he said was going to go. His word was law. And this worried her, because if she grew attached to him, it would make it all the harder to make him leave with the others, even if it was to save his life and the lives of all of the other colonists. So she would do her best to stay distant and not grow attachments. It was for the better after all. The lives of the humans were much more important than her own. It was a strange sort of duty that the colonies and nations had. The people they represented came first, even if it meant getting severely injured, because it took a lot to kill a nation but it took more to kill a nation than a colony, for a stranger, who was still one of 'theirs,' it would happen because it was in their blood to not let their people die.
"Well, that simply will not do. We must give you a proper name…"
And for a while, her boss and another man just debated what her 'human' name should have been. A lot of names had been thrown out, for her to listen to but she just told them to name her themselves because the name really made no difference to her since they would be the only ones to use it for her. She had no taste in human names. England had a human name. She knew that much. But there was also Spain. She knew he had a human name too because England had come over just to complain about him whenever he visited her while she supplied him with tea, cleaned his boots, polished his guns, re-sew all of the worn edges on his red jacket and washed all of his clothes. While she would much rather have heard stories about him as he was going about and defeating Antonio as a pirate she got stuck listening to 'what a wanker' Francis and Antonio were. If only she had been a boy, perhaps England would have loved her a little more. If she were a boy, he might have taken her words a little more seriously.
"We shall call you Patience," the man announced.
"Why must you call me anything other than Roanoke?" she questioned, "I am not like you."
"But you are," the man insisted, "And you may call me John White."
And so to the colonists, she became Patience.
Patience watched as the new men started looking for the last group of people who had been there on her land. The man's who led the previous group was named Sir Richard Grenville. And Roanoke admitted she didn't understand the fascination the British colonists had with names. She was just Roanoke. And yet now she was Patience as well. So she wrote England what had happened, about her new name, about how he should pull the colonists out, how she wished things could be different and how she thought that he was the best caretaker she had, that she loved him, despite his mistake. She had addressed it to her 'Dearest Father' because really, that's what he was to her – a father, albeit one who didn't listen and was stubborn and never around, but a father all the same. She had a sense of foreboding as she watched the colonists settle in peacefully. This wasn't going to end well should they remain there.
But still, she told them what had happened. The new colonists didn't believe her. However, they did eventually, once they found the bones of the original settlers instead. Horror struck the men. Panic struck the women. Children were crying in blind terror because their parents were keeping secrets. Only the fellow who introduced himself as John White seemed to keep his cool. He just encouraged everyone to keep looking, insisting that they had no proof that it was Grenville or his men. However, after a month of searching, they gave up hope of trying to find 'Grenville.' She told them that Grenville had left his men, with the promise of fresh supplies upon his return. The men died and Grenville never came back. Roanoke assumed he was dead too. There was a harsh storm the night after he left.
She had warned him that the natives on her island would not be friendly. Patience was constantly telling them how the man named Ralph Lane led countless attacks against the Croatan tribes that covered her land. The colonists would not listen. She had warned them of strange noises that the original colonists heard, but they laughed it off. She had warned them against foul beasts but they declared their guns were powerful enough to scare off any creature. She had warned them of illness, of drought, of disease, of hunger, of poor soil, of harsh winters and storms that she called hurricanes but they ignored her words. She had been desperate, trying to convey somehow the danger they were in and how they needed to leave but no matter what she did the colonists stayed and were intent on staying there for the rest of their days.
But still Patience warned them again and again.