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peonycats · 3 years

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“But what luck I have to call a man like you my son. It is an honor you cannot understand. One day you will have children and if you have just one who is as dear as you are to me, you will understand how blessed my life has been.”

(from left to right, top to bottom: al-andalus/umayyad, spain, portugal, bby cuba, spain)

historical footnotes (and a bonus comic!):

obligatory disclaimer that spanish colonization of Cuba and other places was Bad, to put it lightly- just because i portray two nations having a relationship analogous to family does not mean the two have good or even healthy relations

al-Andalus was the name of the Iberian Peninsula while it was under Muslim rule. The Umayyad Conquest of Spain took place in the 710s AD, and succeeded largely due to the fragmented nature Iberia and Visgothic rule, who had taken control after the fall of the Western Roman Empire. Under Caliphate of Cordoba, al-Andalus was a cosmopolitan center of learning and culture, with advancements in trigonometry, astronomy, medicine, and art. Muslim rule in Iberia eventually fell to the rising Christian kingdoms in the Reconquista, which concluded with fall of the Emirate of Granada in 1492, the same year Columbus made that fateful landing in Hispaniola.

(technically, Spain and portugal have other iberian sibs at this time (and continue to do so!) but just imagine that they’re off playing while port decided to stay to see tonio’s weird music shenanigans)

tried really hard to research to make the clothes historically accurate, but my research wasn’t really satisfactory, so i can’t attest to how accurate they are, especially the first part! and i will be the first to admit that I made portugal’s coat periwinkle blue mostly because i thought it looked nice lol

(…..also spain’s breeches would most certainly not be skin tight but i claim artistic liberty on that one)

In the first panel, Spain is playing an oud, which is a short necked, pear shaped lute. It was brought to Iberia in the Ummayyad conquest, and fused with the previous lute tradition under the Romans. There have been many depictions of musicians playing the oud throughout Umayyad Spain, which would go onto influence European music traditions, and it continues to be a popular instrument in the Middle East, Turkey, and Iran!

(now that i’m looking at it, this oud must’ve been custom made for spain because it’s rather small for compared to their typical size LMAO)

In the second panel, Spain is playing a vihuela, which is 15th century string instrument that is shaped like a guitar, but tuned like a lute. It was brought over to the New World and is often used in Mexican mariachi bands!

The quote is technically a wee bit off base because it implies that Cuba was Spain’s fave which…… wasn’t really the case until spain lost his other colonies in the Latin American wars for independence WHEEZE

BONUS:

rest in piss tonio

#historical hetalia #hws spain #hws cuba #aph spain #aph cuba #aph portugal #hetalia #hws portugal #hws umayyad #hws al andalus #historically inaccurate hair is historically inaccurate #got too lazy to draw the vihuelas paint marks lol #still trynna sus out my umayyad design so itll prbly change later lmaoo #hetalia ocs

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needcake · 3 years

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whumptober2021, day 8: coughing up a lung

Umayyad finds Al-Andalus sobbing outside his quarters and pulls him into his arms.

“I hate him,” the young man cries into his shoulder and he soothes him gently. Al-Andalus repeats it over and over until Umayyad cannot help but laugh.

Laughter sets off a cough. His chest burns and his throat closes, he places a hand over his mouth, but it does little to muffle the violent sounds. Al-Andalus pulls away from him with a frown and Umayyad breathes, tries to cover up the pain with a small smile.

“What has Al-Gharb done this time, little one?”

Al-Andalus does not seem too convinced, but whatever happened between the brothers distracts him long enough for Umayyad to breathe deeply, calm the ache inside his body. He only half-listens to the story. His throat is dry and his hands are shaking. He promises Al-Andalus that he will talk to his brother, settle the matter, and he watches the young man nod and walk down the darkened corridors back to his quarters.

When he opens his palm, there is a spot of blood on his hand.

Al-Gharb is sulking by the window when he comes into his room. He clear his throat as he walks in, but all he does is hunch more over himself.

“I hear you two had a fight.”

The young man turns further towards the window, giving his back to Umayyad. He looks around for a moment before settling down on the cushions at the center, taps his fingers lightly on the manuscript he has brought.

“I suppose if you don’t want to talk, then you won’t want this either,” he says lightly and it has the effect he had hoped for. Al-Gharb looks over his shoulder and his eyes brighten at the sight of the manuscript over his lap, his body slowly uncoiling with curiosity. “I had it copied just for you.”

Slowly and hesitantly, he departs from his place by the window and steps closer. Umayyad points at a cushion near him, but he resists, bites his lips, eyes troubled and downcast. But at last he comes closer and Umayyad feels as if he had won that battle when the boy settles beside him uneasily. He studies him for a moment. While Al-Andalus had grown rapidly in size and strength, Al-Gharb was still small, his slender fingers more readily taking up parchment and ink than a sword.

“Would you read it out loud for me?” he asks and offers him the pages bound in linen threads. Al-Gharb’s eyes dart between the book and him and he nods, taking it carefully into his hands. When he speaks, Umayyad closes his eyes and listens to his perfectly accented Arabic. He knows that some were made for war, but others possessed other talents.

All they needed was a little push in the right direction.

“I want to send you to Baghdad,” he says suddenly, cutting him off and his eyes turn sharply at him.

“Because I called Tarraco fat?”

Laughter again sets off a coughing fit, and this time he has trouble masking it under a smile. His shoulders shake violently and he struggles for breath. Every heave for new air makes Al-Gharb’s eyes grow wider, the sound the comes from his lips heavy and clogged, achingly mortal. Pain burns inside him and he looks at the ceiling above him so the child won’t see the tears in them.

“Fetch this poor man some water, will you?” he rasps when he finds his voice again and Al-Gharb quickly raises to his feet, lets the book fall down to the floor in his haste and goes to the corner of the room. He comes back with a cup of blessedly cool water and Umayyad is finally able to breathe after it soothes his throat.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use that name anymore,” he reminds him with his voice still hoarse, trying to distract his worried hands that crisp into one another as he watches him with a frown. Al-Gharb shakes his head, mumbles an apology. He smiles. The Almighty has blessed him with good boys to look after.

He points at the cushion again and he sits, his eyes still tight with worry.

“You shouldn’t call your brother names,” he says and the young man frowns even more.

“He started it! He said—”

“I said,” he interrupted him firmly, “That you should not call him names.”

Al-Gharb closes his mouth with an angry snap, looks down at the floor between his feet. Umayyad drinks the rest of his water and glances at the manuscript on the floor.

“Some time away might do you both good,” he says, and at Al-Gharb’s indignant expression and mouth that opens again to object he merely smiles slightly. “I hear the House of Wisdom has an impressive library.”

His expression melts into bright-eyed excitement and the tightness he still feels in his chest is somewhat subdued at the sight.

“Now, please, continue your reading,” he asks.

“Yes, father,” Al-Gharb responds and both of them look at each other in surprise. He has never called him that before. Umayyad had never asked that of them.

The boy blushes bright red and looks down in shame. Umayyad watches the struggle behind his eyes as he clenches and unclenches his fingers, eyes darting around the room like a trapped bird. Then he stands up sharply and mumbles a quiet excuse, quickly exits the room.

Umayyad is left alone, amused. He presses his hand to his chest, breathes slowly. He reaches for the fallen book on the floor, waits for Al-Gharb to calm down enough to come back.

More time, he asks the ceiling of his boy’s room, please give me more time with them.

Notes:

Between 711 and 1031, the Iberian Peninsula was ruled under the Umayyad Caliphate, the second of the four main Islamic Caliphates established after Mohammad’s death. At the height of it’s power, the Caliphate stretched from Meca, in Saudi Arabia, to Morocco, and had Damascus, in Syria, as it’s capital.

The Iberian Peninsula was named Al-Andalus, with Gharb Al-Andalus (West Al-Andalus), or just Al-Gharb (The West) being the western portion of it, encompassing the present-day territories of Portugal and western Spain. These would later give name to the Algarve and Andalusia regions.

In 750, the Abbasid Caliphate overthrew the Umayyad dynasty and became the third Islamic Caliphate, with Baghdad as its capital. The remaining members of the Umayyad dynasty fled Damascus and established an independent Emirate in Córdoba in an attempt to maintain their power and recreate the Caliphate in the region. However, their hold on the region weakened and soon it broke into smaller principalities (taifas), providing an opportunity for the Christian Kingdoms in the North to begin reconquering the peninsula (the Reconquista).

The Baghdad House of Wisdom was established by the Abbasid Caliphate during the Islamic Golden Age and was an academic and intellectual center. It was destroyed in 1258 with the Mongol invasion of Baghdad, leaving behind little physical evidence of its existence.

#whumptober2021 #no.8 #coughing up a lung #hetalia #fic #hws oc umayyad #hws oc castile #hws portugal #a wild fic appears

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