#hws hibernia

[apersonwholikeslotus]

sorry but I can't accept Ancient Celtic personifications if they're not at least slightly feral. And I mean feral in like a good way. in my opinion the order goes

Gaul - the most feral, will fight u

Hibernia - also will fight u, come get some.

Britannia - only so far down on the list cause Rome 'civilized' her

Caledonia - pretty calm, only visible feral when he's pissed

Noricum - can blend into a group of Romans if she tries. does she try? no.

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Dulce y salvaje Hibernia

Sinopsis:

Inglaterra tiene un objetivo claro; Irlanda está más que dispuesta a interponerse en su camino.

Clasificación: T.

Catergorías: Gen, Adventure, Romance.

Número de palabras: Alrededor de 49 mil.

Número de capítulos: 7.

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CAPÍTULO 1. La mar lo trajo de vuelta. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 2. Muy grande amigo. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 3. Resquicios de salvación. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 4. Afición a lo exótico. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 5. Noches gélidas. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 6. Un camino sin rumbo. Ao3 / ff.net.

CAPÍTULO 7. Lo que callan las montañas. Ao3 / ff.net.

Pequeño contexto: Dingle.

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PIEZA ADICIONAL. El Cid irlandés. Ao3 / ff.net.

La recepción de Irlanda en España no es la que esperaba después de tantos años separados.

Número de palabras: 12 mil.

Capítulo único.

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Primera parte de P.I.G.S.

[acemapleeh]

A Rough Timeline and Guide of the British Isles

In my findings for history week, I sort of compiled some headcanons as to when each of the countries that make up the Isles came to be, including the Ancients they descended from. This is by no means a historically accurate guide, a lot going off of myths and legends. I, personally, like combining myth into my works and dates are rough to pin down. Take it all with a grain of salt, I’m no historian. I also use the terms BCE (before common era) and CE (common era) instead of BC and AD respectively.

Hibernia/ Ériu (Arrived alongside the mythical Tuatha Dé Danann, and though the fifth and second to last group of people to settle in Ireland, they made up the pantheon of Celtic gods and goddesses; “child” of Danu (mother goddess and credited as being the land), roughly 1897 BCE with the first of their ruling kings; other legends say he arrived with the Milesians (sometime in the 1st millennium BCE), who represent the actual people and are considered to be the ancestors of the Celts and the true fathers of the Irish people; they were the last to settle of the mythic founding. They agreed with the Tuatha Dé Danann to divide the land between the Heavens and Earth before they fought, sending the Gods underground. Hibernia represents more Pre-Christian Ireland so I’m keener on him arriving alongside the pantheon of gods, representing nature, magic, and life. His health began to decline as Christianity overtook the country and the culture began to shift, beginning the path for modern Ireland)

Caledonia/ Celt (keep in mind there was little to no recorded history of Scotland until the arrival of the Roman Empire in the 1st century CE; the creator of the land, Callieach, made the first and ancient rock of Caledonia which is said to be the island of Iona; she created every ascept of the country including its islands, mountains, lakes, and streams; her alter ego, Bride, was the goddess of spring and created the flowers and grass everywhere she walked; Cailleach, who was said to be the hag of winter, was infuriated and imprisoned Bride; Angus Og, the prince of eternal youth and green from Tír na nÓg, sees in a dream what is happening and sets out to find Bride; not long after Cailleach washed her plaid and draped it over the mountains (covering the land in ice and darkness), the prince arrived and battle ensued portraying the eternal struggle of life and death; Cailleach is defeated and driven back to Iona; Bride now free takes the hand of Angus Og and walk into the living Earth; Caledonia is said to have been born after these events, a mixture of the Earth and eternal youth and magic; timeline wise, arrived after Hibernia)

Britannia (historically speaking, she likely shouldn’t exist but I put her here for fiction’s sake; Britain before the Roman occupation mainly consisted of a diverse number of tribes that were collectively referred to as Britons; 'Britain' was just a geographical entity, and had no political meaning, and no single cultural identity; in the early days of the human population of the island not many dates stand out as of significance for Britain’s history; Britannia may have emerged with the first people to which we can give a name, the Beaker folk from the Low Countries and the middle Rhine who turned up in Britain in the Bronze Age (roughly 2,300 BCE); also could theorize she emerged during the British Iron Age (earliest dating to begin 800 BCE) which came with mass migrations of people to the southern half of Briton; Iron Age British tribes were not considered to be Celtic; Britain’s many regional cultures grew out of the preceding local Bronze Age, and did not derive from waves of continental 'Celtic' invaders; a lot of their language and tools resembled closer to mainland Europe’s Celtic (Gaul) rather than Insular Celtic; regardless, during this time was a great emergence of culture and identity and population increase; this one got off track a bit)

Ireland- Érie- Morgan O’Neill (Make them really old to be the one who arrived with the Milesians in the 1st century BCE (Ireland’s last name is O'Neill on account of the descendants of the Milesians include 'Niall of the Nine Hostages' where the O’Neill’s are descended from; fun fact side note, in the mid-1500s, Sean O’Neill, the Earl of Tyrone, was causing so many problems for the English crown that Elizabeth I banned the name O’Neill, on the punishment of death and forfeiture of property so you bet Morgan kept their name to piss Arthur off); you can say the Christian influence shifted Irish culture in about 431 with the first recorded account of the ordination of Pope Celestine I of Palladius as the first bishop to Irish Christians and they grew out of childhood with the changes growing in the country; regardless, they are the oldest of the siblings; they were a patchwork of kingdoms as Gaelic Ireland until the Lordship of Ireland (or Norman Ireland) in 1117, then the Kingdom of Ireland in 1542)

Scotland- Alba- Alistair Cunnynghame (Also said to have descended from the Milesians Gaels though he emerged after the migration from Ireland to Scotland; the Scots Gaels derive from the kingdom of Dál Riata which eventually became associated with the Gaelic Kingdom of Alba; though Scotland was alive before the emergence of this kingdom, it was at its height in the 6th and 7th century where he began to transition from child to teen; from the 5th to 10th centuries, early Scotland was home not only to the Gaels of Dál Riata but also the Picts, the Britons, Angles and lastly the Vikings; the Kingdom of Alba/ Scotland was said to be founded as a successor kingdom to Dál Riata and Pictland in 843)

Wales- Cymru- Dylan Llewellyn (410 emergences of Welsh Kingdoms and Roman garrison withdrawn from Britain (383 was the effective end of Roman rule in Wales) Kingdom of Gwynedd founded in 450; Principality of Wales founded in 1216)

England- Albion- Arthur Kirkland (appeared in 450 along the first emergence of Anglo-Saxon settlements; 927 the Kingdom of England emerged from unified Anglo-Saxon kingdoms)

Northern Ireland- Tuaisceart Éireann/ Norlin Airlann- Seán Donnelly (created in 1921 when Ireland was partitioned by the Government of Ireland Act 1920, creating a devolved government for the six northeastern counties; honestly I’m uncertain why Hima depicts him being around the same age as Ireland and older than England; he’s the baby brother; the oldest I could put him would be in the 1880′s with the rising resistance to the Home Rule, desire for Irish autonomy in internal affairs without breaking up the United Kingdom, and by 1912, the Ulster Covenant pledged for the county of Ulster to be excluded from Home Rule, WWI would delay the process of Home Rule)

[chocolatesawfish]

Hetalia World Stars The Ulster Cycle

(Cw: death and historical inaccuracy, ho!)

Once upon a time (the late Iron Age, specifically) there lived two sisters on two islands. The elder was named Britannia, and the younger, Hibernia.

Each sister bore five children. The sons of Britannia were Cambria, Caledonia, Loegria, Monapia and Dumnonia. Later, they were called Wales, Scotland, England, Mann and Cornwall. The children of Hibernia were Ulaid, Laigin, Connachta, Mumu and Mide. They were later to become Ulster, Leinster, Connacht, Munster and Meath.

After the passing of their mothers, the usual inheritance struggles broke out. Of the ten contenders, some were more favoured by geography and demographics than others. England and Scotland surpassed their kin in the east, while Ulster, Connacht and Munster rose to prominence in the west. The arrival of the Norsemen upset this whole, delicate balance of power.

When the Viking raids began to strike the coasts of Britain and Ireland, the response of Hibernia's children was to put aside their differences and consolidate a common front. An entirely unintended effect of this cooperation was the birth of a nation.

Emerging from the unity of the five provinces, Árdríocht na hÉireann, the High Kingdom of Ireland, stepped onto the scene. Though not directly of Hibernia's blood, he was still a sibling to them, and symbol of their resistance to foreign rule. And this talismanic determination would soon be put to the test.

Young Ireland reached the peak of his potential under that most famous high king, Brian Boru. With the battle of Clontarf, the Northmen ceased to be an issue, the ever more ambitious Leinster suffered a setback, and Munster seemed set to rule as most powerful of the five provinces. In a sad twist of fate, Brian Boru's death & the resulting fragmentation of his achievements led to the dwindling of Munster's power, leaving Connacht and Ulster as the major players on the island. Ireland attempted to keep them in line, but going behind the others’ backs, Leinster invited a foreign force to their island, ultimately sealing all of their fates.

Almost from the moment Wales set foot on the Emerald Isle, things spiralled out of control. Young, impressionable and filled with religious fervour from his time with Norman France, he reinstated Leinster in the position of power she craved, and proceeded to go much further. The campaigns of this invader drew Munster and Meath’s ire, and they attempted to force him into retreat, but with continental tactics and technology, Wales was a foe like none they’d fought before. Soon, an all-island battle royale was raging, with even Leinster burned by the dragon she had unleashed. Things were only resolved when England stepped in, using his princely authority to recall Wales, but the damage was done. In England’s view, the only way to stabilise the situation was to take charge himself. And so began the eight hundred years of colonisation.

The retreat of the Normans bought the five provinces, and Ireland as a whole, some breathing space, but it wasn’t to last. With the ascendancy of the House of Tudor, England exerted his control ever more fiercely, and the provinces, one by one, were either killed outright or had their power broken, and gradually dwindled away. All except Ulster.

All the provinces had their reasons for resisting, and resist they did. Whether they met their end at the tip of Anglo-Norman lances, or were felled by starvation, disease and internal strife, Leinster, Munster, Connacht and Meath fought till their last breath. Ulster prided himself as the finest warrior of all the island, but this wasn’t the sole reason he had held dominion for so long.  He was pragmatic and shrewd, and saw no purpose in discarding his life for a lost cause. When he was defeated despite doing all he could, he reasoned that there was no disgrace in an honourable surrender, and submitted to his new lords.

With the Flight of the Earls and the winnowing of the last vestiges of his Gaelic culture, Ulster entered a period of profound mourning. The loss of his language, his traditions, the very soul of the nation, was enough to break his heart. He had acquiesced willingly, but on many occasions he regretted it, berated himself, questioned whether things could have gone differently. He was too subdued to make a fuss as England began moving settlers in, new customs and ways of life supplanting the old. It would take the arrival of one more nation on the island to break Ulster out of his downward spiral.

Scotland stood out from his brothers, yet there was something so familiar about him. He had none of Wales’ fervour, none of England’s offhand brutality, but was quiet, dignified and resolute. He was the single most impressive man Ulster had ever met. He could never put his finger on quite why his cousin’s arrival touched a chord with him, but deep down, it was because Scotland was everything he wished he could be. Here was a man who had stood up to England, Norway, had even, fighting at the side of his mother, held back the Roman Empire himself.

Ulster recalled Scotty’s face vaguely and fondly. Back in their youth, in untroubled days, they had crossed the North Channel to visit each other’s houses, romping through the Scottish Highlands and the Glens of Antrim. Although they had drifted apart as times changed and new challenges arose, they had tried to keep in contact. Scotland’s gallowglass warriors had been instrumental in countless Irish conflicts, and his campaigns under the Bruce family had provided an invaluable counterweight that kept Norman England in check.

Scotland was someone Ulster could actually talk to. Proud of his Gaelic roots and equally as nostalgic for their childhood, they had much to bond over. Ulster grew in confidence. The hollow absence of his old way of life still hurt, but with Scotland, he began to learn about the experiences of others, try new things and broaden his worldview. Eager to impress, he almost unwittingly began to adopt Scotland’s mannerisms, from his dress sense to his speech patterns. With trepidation and excitement, he even made the monumental leap of conversion, taking up his cousin’s Presbyterian faith.

For a time, life was good. Ulster and Scotland settled into their new life together, their cultures syncretizing and their love for each other deepening. Gradually, they ceased to see each other as cousins, and Ulster became the fourth brother of the British Family. But what of good old Éire?

While Ulster prospered, his little brother suffered. Too weak to be seen as a serious threat, he escaped the fate of the provinces, though he fought just as valiantly. After the conquest, England set up a colonial administration in Dublin, made some perfunctory attempts to “civilise” the country and promptly forgot about him. Left to his own devices in a devastated landscape, Ireland experienced a tempestuous adolescence. Retreating west and living off the land, he came to resent all things British, but most of all his misguided sellout of a big brother.

Every so often, this discontent flared into violence. In the Irish Rebellions of 1641, 1798 and of course 1916, Ireland lashed out against the establishment, with predictably tragic results every time. What’s more, his land became a battlefield of larger powers, with the Williamite-Jacobite War seeing the Netherlands and France arrive to bolster their respective Protestant and Catholic allies.

With clockwork consistency, Ulster was caught in the middle. With how often he was at the centre of the conflict, he began to internalise that it was really all his fault, even when the wars were only a symptom of larger, Europe-wide machinations. Now, at least, he didn’t have to rely solely on himself. Whenever danger loomed, his brother was there, a staunch defender against all comers. In 1641, when Ireland laid waste to the province, Scotland sheltered Ulster behind the barricades of County Down and fought Ireland to a standstill outside them. Bizarrely, Ireland found himself allied to England when Arthur’s doppelgänger, Oliver, appeared on the scene, joining forces with Scotland and Ulster in his quest to depose the monarchy.

After the Williamite War, things returned to some semblance of normality, but discontent still brewed beneath the surface. The social structures of the Protestant Ascendancy excluded both Catholics and Presbyterians from government in favour of Anglicans, so while England extended his rule around the globe, Ireland, Scotland and Ulster languished in relative obscurity. For Ireland, this was a chance to recuperate and plan for his next uprising, while for the other two, free from the duties of politics, it was an opportunity to rebuild their lives together and continue to develop the Ulster-Scots identity of their community.

Yet another disaster was the Potato Famine. Scotland returned to his ancestral highlands to try and alleviate the suffering there, and Ulster stood on his own for the first time in hundreds of years, struggling to care for a devastated population. Worst-hit of all was Ireland. The starvation, the disease and the inaction of the British government was more than he could bear. He departed on a coffin ship for America.

In his absence, Ulster integrated himself further into the Anglo-Celtic family. But Ireland didn’t plan on staying away for ever. Returning across the Atlantic, having met diverse groups of peoples and been imbued with new ideas of nationalism and self-determination, he made one final push for freedom.

In keeping with this new spirit, he took a step unusual for him and dealt with the British government on their own terms. They were happy to receive him, as they much preferred a feisty but ineffectual political partner to a hostile and volatile colony. Ulster, though, was much aggrieved, not comprehending how they could show such favour to one who had been such a constant thorn in their side. With jealousy and unsettlement eating away at him, Ulster dug his heels in. Every push for greater autonomy that Ireland made, every concession granted to him, resulted in Ulster proclaiming in ever-stronger terms that he would never abandon his family.

And then, some damned foolish thing in the Balkans, that which the Great Powers dreaded, came to pass. It was 1914, and Europe was in flames.

England, Scotland and Wales threw all their might into supporting their continental allies, with the Irish right beside them. Ulster was attempting to prove his steadfast loyalty, while Éire was hoping that by being there in their hour of need, the British would reward him with independence. The war, however, only forestalled a proposed autonomy bill from being implemented, and Ireland’s frustrations grew. They spilled over in the Easter Rising, crushed like all before it, but sticking in the public imagination due to the cruelty with which the British suppressed it.

Once the war was over, Ireland saw his chance, and now, at last, he was successful. He automatically assumed that his brother Ulster would be coming with him, and was aghast to discover that he had no intention of doing so, a plain truth that Ireland had willfully blinded himself to. Their division, evident for so long, was now official, and Ulster took a new name for himself.

Northern Ireland.

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Dulce y salvaje Hibernia.

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El Cid irlandés

La recepción de Irlanda en España no es la que se esperaba después de tantos años separados.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

Comentarios bajo la línea de separación.

Sé que cuando publiqué Esperas mortales dije que probablemente nunca iba a escribirlo como tal, pero al final lo terminé encontrando necesario tanto para la comprensión de la siguiente parte como para ir calentando para todo lo que tengo preparado.

Además, tenía que detallar algunas cositas que dejé abiertas en Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, aclarar que me voy a saltar toda la Guerra de los Nueve Años y empezar con el desarrollo de otros asuntitos, porque las relaciones de Irlanda con España históricamente en este punto no han hecho más que empezar.

También, como dije hace tiempo, esto lo escribí para la HWS Rare Pair Week cuando todavía no habían sido anunciadas las fechas, pero como mi condición era que fuese antes de agosto, pues... Lo he acabado publicando en el cumpleaños número 9 de mi perro.

Es un poco de trampa porque la premisa parte exactamente del día 2 del anterior evento, Decepción, aunque partiendo de una base histórica más exacta y no de mi pura imaginación basada en datos vagos, además de —por lo menos lo espero—, una mejora en mi propio estilo a la hora de escribir.

(Por favor, no os leáis la primera versión. Estoy más que contenta con las pocas visitas que tiene.)

De todas formas, espero que lo disfrutéis.

(Y también absteneos de entender que un caballo que mueve su cola es porque está contento. Por favor. Normalmente es todo lo contrario, lo que pasa es que estos dos son especialitos y uno se ha pasado demasiado tiempo al lado de un perro, y las costumbres se terminan pegando.)

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Resquicios de salvación

Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, Capítulo 3 de 7.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

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Esperas mortales

Veo necesario rectificar uno de mis primeros fics, Decepción, que publiqué para la Rare Pair Week 2022. Sabía desde hacía tiempo que iba a tener que hacerlo, e incluso se me llegó a pasar por la cabeza borrarlo y reescribirlo, pero, al formar parte de un evento, prefiero dejarlo ahí.

Pero publico una corrección de los hechos para que no sea confuso con todo lo planificado para más adelante.

Irlanda viajaría a España —por primera vez, todo sea dicho—, en 1602 después de la batalla de Kinsale, pero, al contrario de lo que se dice en el fic, no lo haría sola; habría acompañado a "Red" Hugh O'Donnell y a otros nobles en su viaje para solicitar una nueva ayuda a Felipe III.

Serían recibidos en La Coruña con honores por el Gobernador de Galicia y el Arzobispo de Santiago, donde asistirían a la fundación de un Colegio Irlandés y visitarían la Torre de Hércules, lugar de gran importancia para la mitología irlandesa.

(Irlanda no podría evitar acercarse a la torre y recordar a su padre, aunque fuese por un simple segundo, junto a todas sus historias).

Tras hospedarse en la casa del Gobernador, Irlanda habría aprovechado para preguntarle por España —al que no había avisado de su plan por falta de tiempo—, y se habría encontrado con que estaba ausente en América.

A la vez que O'Donnell mandaba cartas al Duque de Lerma y al Rey, Irlanda intentaría encontrar las palabras con las que comunicárselo, aunque no conseguiría nada antes de que, en abril, el noble decidiese entrevistarse con el Rey en la propia Corte para insistir en la ayuda que no hacía más que ser aplazada.

Ella lo acompañaría hasta Valladolid, donde sufriría la falta de respuesta por parte del Monarca y se decidiría por fin a enviarle una carta a España para pedirle que intercediese por el noble. Desafortunadamente, no habría manera de que llegase a tiempo.

Sería obligada a presenciar la enfermedad de O'Donnell, ya en septiembre, y su posterior muerte a los pocos días.

[Se dice que fue envenenado por un irlandés, James Blake, por orden del Gobernador inglés de Munster, pero la Historia está llena de conjeturas, y ni en ese momento ni ahora, conociendo los síntomas, se ha probado que pudiese ser así, por lo que dejémoslo como una incógnita].

Ella estaría allí para llorarlo y rezarlo, para acompañarlo en su entierro en un Convento franciscano, y para enviar una carta a su hermano, Ruarí O'Donnell, avisándole de su muerte.

Y en diciembre sería cuando llegaría España, que se presentaría de inmediato ante ella. Irlanda le recriminaría que no hubiese estado presente en sus últimos momentos, que ni su Rey ni su valido hubiesen tenido el valor de enfrentarle y le hubiesen permitido pudrirse en una torre.

España no podría hacer más que abrazarla y consolarla en el llanto que había acompañado a sus gritos, recriminándole mentalmente a su Rey ese repentino abandono de tan leales vasallos.

(Porque su presencia allí tampoco hubiese asegurado nada.)

Él la habría acompañado hasta su casa, puesto que, por más que lo desease, Irlanda sería consciente de que, por el momento, no podría volver.

[La Guerra de los Nueve Años (1594-1603), a pesar de tener las mayores victorias de los irlandeses sobre los ingleses, acabaría un año después. Sin embargo, desde la derrota en Kinsale se sabía que la ganarían los ingleses, y ya se estaba planeando la Fuga de los Condes, un evento recordado como el final de la era medieval irlandesa, que tendría lugar en 160].

Ella misma se encargaría de recibir más adelante a Florence Corny, el confesor francisco de Ruarí O'Donnell que sería enviado a la Corte española como asesor sobre los asuntos irlandeses y tendría un papel esencial hasta su muerte en Madrid en 1629.

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Noches gélidas

Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, Capítulo 5 de 8.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

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Afición a lo exótico

Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, Capítulo 4 de 7.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

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Un capítulo con el que tengo una relación de amor-odio —no sería yo si no la tuviese, la verdad.

Lo siento por el tocho, pero ya iba tocando.

Y muchas gracias a todos por el apoyo que le habéis dado a este fic durante la primera semana.

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Y... por fin estamos en abril. A veintiocho días justos del SpaIre's Day.

A pesar de que, cuando lo anuncié, parecía que nunca iba a llegar.

No hay nada más que pueda añadir.

Ya he publicado un mínimo fragmento de un capítulo del fic, una pieza complementaria que, aunque no lo parezca —y no lo haya incluido como tal en P.I.G.S.—, sirve como prólogo para esta historia, mucho más que Náufrago, y un pequeño contexto sobre Dingle por más insignificante que resulte.

Podría ponerme a escribir y a publicar más sobre el SpaIre antes de la fecha, aunque todas mis ideas me dirigen hacia el siglo XIX y XX, sobre todo en el XX —donde está toda la angustia acumulada—, y todavía no es el momento de abrir ese cajón.

Así que... bueno.

«... Y desde allí me puse á mirar tan grande espectáculo de tristeza; ahogarse muchos dentro de las naos, otros en echándose al agua irse al fondo sin tornar arriba; otros sobre balsas y barriles y caballeros sobre maderos; otros daban grandes voces en las naos llamando á Dios; echaban á la mar los capitanes sus cadenas y escudos; á otros arrebataban los mares de las naos que los llevaban...»

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«... Un grupo de siluetas estáticas aguardaba en la línea entre las piedras y la arena. Incluso si no era capaz de verlos, podía sentir cómo los ojos de todos la perforaban. Estaban en un silencio absoluto, hasta el punto de que los murmullos de España y el aullido del viento no tenían nada con lo que competir.

Irlanda se mordió el labio inferior. Por más incómoda que estuviese bajo su escrutinio, no podía culparlos; su presencia debía haber levantado su curiosidad después de tanto tiempo.

Aquel campo yermo había dejado de ser interesante para ellos hacía varios meses, así que, ¿por qué lo sería para aquellos extraños?... »

.

No puedo ni quiero añadir más detalles de los que se pueden intuir en el texto —que creo que son bastantes—, y más cuando ni siquiera sé si le voy a dar una segunda vuelta y a cambiarlo al momento de la corrección.

Pero aquí lo dejo, por más que, sin el contexto, no sea la gran cosa.

Aunque sea como una prueba de que no he dejado de pensar en este... proyecto en ningún momento.

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Dingle

«Dingle, o Dhaingean Uí Chúis, es un pueblo situado en la península del mismo nombre, cuyas costas son bañadas por el océano Atlántico. Pertenece al condado de Kerry, en la provincia de Munster, situada en el suroeste de la isla de Irlanda.»

Tras la Invasión normada de Irlanda —finales del siglo XII—, el pueblo se desarrollaría como un puerto. Un siglo después, habría superado a Limerick en número de exportaciones, lo que obligaría a Enrique III de Inglaterra a establecer controles en 1257.

Durante el siglo XIV la importación del vino cobró una gran importancia, hasta el punto de que la autoridad local de la época, el Primer Conde de Desmond, Maurice FitzGerald, tuvo que regular el comercio mediante un impuesto.

La localidad era uno de los principales puertos de comercio, exportación de peces e importación de vinos del continente europeo; normalmente desde España y Francia. En el siglo XVI, flotas de pescadores españoles y franceses utilizarían el pueblo como una base.

Otra cosa a destacar es que también resultaba el principal puerto para embarcar hacia Santiago de Compostela desde la isla.

Las conexiones de esta zona con España eran tan fuertes que este fue el primer lugar de Irlanda en recibir una misión diplomática desde la España de Carlos I. Sucedió, tal como conmemora la placa, el 28 de abril de 1529, cuando aún se creía en España que Inglaterra era confiable.

La operación estuvo presidida por González Fernández, el embajador plenipotenciario enviado por el Rey de España que, según se dice, fue recibido por un redoble de tambores ceremonial.

El denominado Tratado de Dingle fue firmado entre él y el Decimoprimer Conde de Desmond, James Fitzgerald, que el propio embajador español describió de la siguiente manera: «El conde tiene entre 30 y 40 años y su altura está bastante por encima de la media. Mantiene mejor la justicia en sus dominios que cualquier otro jefe en Irlanda. Los que cometen robos y homicidios no encuentran piedad y a sus perpetradores se les corta la mano. Sus gentes tienen gran orden y disciplina, y poseen arcos cortos y espadas. La propia guardia del Conde está armada de pies a cabeza y porta alabardas. También tiene caballos, y algunos de estos sabe incluso cómo romper una lanza. Montan de una manera admirable; sin silla ni estribos.»

Este acuerdo sirvió como base legal para los derechos de ciudadanía y otros privilegios que los exiliados y emigrantes irlandeses disfrutaron más tarde en todos los territorios de los Habsburgo; España, Austria y los Países Bajos españoles (Bélgica y Luxemburgo) desde el siglo XVI hasta el siglo XIX (firma del Tratado de Unión de 1801), aunque algunos dicen hasta el XX.

La península también sería escenario del sitio y posterior masacre de Smerwick (1580) en el escenario de la Segunda Rebelión Desmond (1579-1583), en el que entre 400 y 700 soldados enviados por el Papa, de origen español e italiano, tenían la labor de reunirse con un ejército de 4000 rebeldes, liderados por en ese entonces Conde de Desmond, Gerald Fitzgerald. Los ingleses llegaron antes que los irlandeses, asediaron a la guarnición papal —junto a la población local—, en el fuerte de Dún an Óir y, tras una rendición que los españoles aceptaron a regañadientes creyendo en las condiciones de los ingleses, la gran mayoría fueron ejecutados.

El lugar en el que se realizó dicha matanza recibió el nombre de Gort a Ghearradh (Campo de Corte) y, según se dice, las cabezas se acumularon en el Gort nag Ceann (Campo de las Cabezas) mientras los cuerpos se arrojaban al mar.

Como último detalle relacionado con Dingle, mencionar que la placa del principio fue inaugurada contando con la embajadora española en Irlanda del momento, Mercedes Rico —porque los embajadores españoles en Irlanda siempre tiene una gran actividad, por lo que veo. En el acto fue recibida, de manera similar a su homólogo más de cuatro siglos atrás —480 años, concretamente—, por la Dingle Fife and Drum Band.

La Dingle Historical Society fue la encargada de la invitación y del acto.

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Lo que callan las montañas

Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, Capítulo 7 de 7.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

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Aunque parezca mentira, al principio pretendía subir el resto de capítulos los viernes a las 15:00, pero, como se puede comprobar, no es algo que me haya salido demasiado bien. Muchos dramas.

En fin... Muchas gracias a todos los que habéis estado leyendo el fic y habéis decidido apoyarlo de las múltiples formas posibles.

Y, a pesar de que no lo he puesto en ninguno de los dos medios porque no lo consideré apropiado, esto es solo el principio. Y entre este capítulo y el comienzo de En la cuarta planta de Palacio hay aproximadamente 300 años en los que hay mucha Historia.

(Pero también mucho tiempo de espera —y esfuerzo—, así que ya me callo).

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Un camino sin rumbo

Dulce y salvaje Hibernia, Capítulo 6 de 7.

Leer en: Ao3 / ff.net.

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Este es un tocho, aún más que el promedio, pero es necesario.

[acemapleeh]

Do you have any headcanons about the ancients? I loveeeee ur fics btw !

Thank you very much! <3

I'm unfortunately not very well versed in ancient history but I have a few ideas for the tiny handful I have some knowledge about. Celtic history is also a mess that I'm still trying to get a firm grasp on.

Britannia is interesting because realistically, she didn't actually exist as she was simply Rome's perception of the island at the time (too many things were). For fiction's sake... I want her to exist. I like her being a sort of mother figure to both England and Wales, historically accurate or otherwise.

Caledonia and Hibernia are other entities I want personally to have been around to represent some of the Ancient Celts. You look too hard and then have to get into the Gauls and the Picts and Scotia and really, I'm not versed enough to write in full detail.

In short without me spending hours reading articles or worrying about historical accuracy:

Britannia

actually feral and will hunt you for sport if you get on her bad side

likes trinkets but keeps them more to herself and tucked away

is extremely petty and will hold grudges for actual centuries (Britannia will remember that); she prefers to do what she wants and is headstrong to no end; this in turn made her feel distant from the people around her

is very in touch with the woods and animals that reside on her land and gives them the utmost respect, especially when hunting

beautiful singing voice, it’s said to this day you can still hear her singing in the wind and falling rain

her people sometimes referred to her as the Goddess Danu who represented aspects of regeneration, wisdom, death, and prosperity; others saw her as the Morrígan, the Irish goddess of death, destiny, and battle- she would sometimes specially be seen as Badb as legend says her battle cries resembled those of a banshee, inspiring chaos and terror

Caledonia

keeper of stories and will the be the one at the fire telling them; is incredibly poetic in his words and a gifted weaver of tales; this skill does not cross into practical conversation

perhaps in another life he would have been happier being a simple craftsman or even a bard

can easily find him resting under trees working with his hands, just making this and that; does this helmet or quiver need intricate spirals and artwork? no? too bad he’s been working on it for hours

incredibly loyal to his word and the things he cares deeply for; he would rather lose his head than to give up who he is

mask of being collected, strong as the earth, and shoulders his world’s worries to ease those around him

would be accidentally thought to be Lugh, the Celtic god of justice, oath keeping, and nobility, who was known for his skills in craftsmanship and battle

Hibernia

prefers the company of spirits and animals over people

always seems to have this dreamy, far away look in his eyes

needless to say, he was often depicted as being “weak” or “useless” and only a young man with a pretty face but that is far from the truth; he was just as skilled a warrior as his kin and was able to hold his ground

thoughtful, contemplative, and in tune with the natural and spirit world

extremely private- a mysterious, hooded figure lurking in the woods; a lot of his people feared him for his abilities and just how close he seemed to be with the fae

referred sometimes as the God of forests, beasts, and wilderness, Cernunnos. More often seen as The Dadga, god of magic, wisdom, prophecy, music, and regeneration: legend says Hibernia inherited his own versions of The Dadga’s harp, cauldron, and club and gifted them to three of his “descendants”