When the deeply patriarchal Romans first encountered Celtic tribes living in modern-day France and Great Britain in the first century B.C.E., their reaction to the roles of the sexes was one of surprise and dismay. The tasks of men and women “have been exchanged, in a manner opposite to what obtains among us,” wrote one Roman historian.
New evidence from Celtic graves now confirms that at least one part of Britain was a woman’s world long before the Romans arrived—and for centuries afterward. One ancient British tribe known as the Durotriges based its family structure—and perhaps property inheritance—on kinship between mothers and daughters. Men, meanwhile, left home to live with their wives’ families, a practice known as matrilocality that has never been seen before in European prehistory.
The work, published today in Nature, helps explain why women in Iron Age Britain are often buried with high-status grave goods such as mirrors and even chariots, says Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich archaeologist Carola Metzner-Nebelsick, who was not involved with the research. “It’s a fantastic result,” she says. “It really helps explain the archaeological record.”
Ancient histories—not least Julius Caesar’s 50 B.C.E. account of invading Gaul—hinted at female empowerment among the Celts. “They wrote about it because they found it so weird,” says Trinity College Dublin geneticist Lara Cassidy.
Many modern historians assumed the accounts were exaggerated; they dismissed rich female graves from the time as outliers. But over the past few decades, archaeologists comparing burial practices at hundreds of Iron Age sites from Britain to Germany began to think there was a kernel of truth to the Roman reports.
The Durotriges cemeteries, located in the far south of England near the city of Bournemouth, offered a way for Cassidy and her team to investigate. Burials there began around 100 B.C.E., roughly 150 years before Roman forces invaded the island. Unusually for Iron Age Britain, the tribe didn’t cremate their dead. Instead they buried them close to home, in the hills surrounding their farmsteads.
Whereas men were laid to rest with a joint of meat and perhaps a pot containing a beverage to sustain them on their journey into the afterlife, Durotriges women are often found with elaborate offerings including mirrors, combs, jewelry, and even swords. “If you judge social status by burial goods, then female burials have vastly more than male,” says Bournemouth University archaeologist Miles Russell, a co-author of the new paper.
Over the past 4 years, researchers sequenced DNA from dozens of Durotriges skeletons in a set of cemeteries in Dorset, England. By matching identical fragments of genetic material from different individuals, they reconstructed a family tree that spanned six generations—many of whom were female descendants of a single female founder. Two-thirds of the people in the kin group buried in the cemetery shared a rare type of mitochondrial gene, a form of DNA inherited only from the mother, including some of the men who shared the same female ancestor.
Other genetic evidence from the Durotriges cemeteries pointed to matrilocality, showing that men joined the clan from other families. “Women are staying close to family and are embedded in the support network they’ve known since childhood,” Cassidy notes. “It’s the husband who’s coming in as a stranger and is dependent on the wife’s family.” Women were evidently a force to be reckoned with in this part of Iron Age Britain.
Archaeologists have found that members of Great Britain’s Durotriges tribe often buried women with more grave goods than men.Miles Russell/Bournemouth University
Such patterns could help explain finds elsewhere in the Celtic world, where women were sometimes buried with rich grave goods or even chariots. “We’re thinking this could have been quite widespread,” Cassidy says.
To gather further evidence, she and her colleagues re-examined previously published genomes from more than 150 sites in Britain and Europe stretching back to the Stone Age. Starting around 500 B.C.E., the diversity in people’s mitochondrial DNA declined, the team found, suggesting more of them shared the same female ancestors. There was no matching decline in the diversity of Y chromosomes, which are passed from fathers to sons.
That suggests communities across Britain were anchored by specific female lines, with men marrying in from outside. “The signal they see in [the Durotriges] case study can be reproduced in other British sites,” says Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology archaeogeneticist Joscha Gretzinger, who was not involved with the work. “That’s quite a smoking gun.”
The study is part of a growing use of DNA to reconstruct genetic kinship in the deep past—and use it to shed light on the structure of past societies. University of Liverpool archaeologist Rachel Pope says the research is starting to highlight the wide variety of social organization people practiced in the past, something archaeology has hinted at over the past 2 decades.
Some of the earliest kinship studies using ancient DNA, for example, showed that Stone Age farmers in Britain and France living in the fifth millennium B.C.E. were organized patrilocally, with women leaving their homes to marry while men stayed put. The new data from Durotriges suggest that by the Iron Age, 4000 years later, something had shifted. “This is quite exciting,” Pope says. “There are moments in time in which societies seem to have a lot of high female status.”
Pairing: Dean Huijsen x fem!reader, friends to lovers
Summary: You've been in love with Dean Huijsen for years. But, him being the team mate of your brother always made it very difficult to approach him in a romantic way. When he flew you out to his last game for Bournemouth, it seems like he had also set his eyes on you and wasn't planning on letting you go again.
Word Count: ~3.9k
Reading Time: ~16 Minutes
Warnings: Reader is implied to be dutch, reader is hopelessly in love at the beginning, reader has an annoying older brother, the interpretation of Dean's career is probably super inaccurate but I had to google a bunch of stuff, swearing, slightly abrupt ending, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language)
A/N: hi! sorry this took so long, but I had to take time iff because I'm still on vacation (and because I didn't feel like writing anything these past couple of days). Anyway, I hope this is enioyable, because I kinda think this got shitty towards the end. I'm already so in love with this man, I'm not kidding. Hopefully our second game will be better tho.
Football was never something you were interested in. The most you watched of it was during the Word Cup and maybe the EURO's. Nontheless, your parents would always drag you to your brother's games, whether you wanted to or not. Obviously, like every boy it seemed like, Max started playing at a very early age and always said he'd go pro at some point.
You couldn't tell if he was good, average or absolutely stupid with the ball, but you liked teasing him about not being good enough. And that was all fun and games until he was called up for the U17 team of your national team, the Netherlands. Sure, maybe you didn't care for normal football, but even this was a big deal for you (even though you weren't all that patriotic).
The one thing you absolutely enjoyed the most about your Max's career was Dean Huijsen. The one team mate you've had a crush on ever since you had laid your eyes on him. You didn't know what it was: Maybe it was because he's so freakishly tall, maybe it's the fact that football is only attractive when he plays it or maybe it's because he's fluent in spanish, as he had demonstrated to you before. Well, those parts definitely had a play in it.
Over the years, you've gotten to know many team mates of your brother and they come and they go, you never pay attention to them. Him, though. Oh, him you could never forget. Max thought it was stupid that you suddenly seemed so interested in the sport and especially his career, since you now showed up to every one of his national games.
Lucky for you, the two boys were really good friends. You'd get mad at your brother when he didn't announce that Dean would be coming over, yelling about how you didn't have time to shower or get ready, to which he'd always meet you with a "Why are you so obsessed with him?".
You wouldn't force hang outs, because being the weird little sister would be worse than not seeing Dean at all, but you'd literally take any chance to talk to him. Causually, of course.
After celebrating another win for the Netherlands with your brother, or at least after congratulating him for it, you stood by the side lines, greeting every familiar face you came across. "Hey," You said in an almost instant when Dean walked by while he gave you a sheepish smile. "You played well today." His eyes scanned your face for maybe a hint of sarcasm or a purpose as to why you specifically were talking to him. "Thanks.. Max's little sister." Oh, he didn't even know your name. Before continuing to walk to his family, he patted your shoulder in an acknowledging way.
Since then many things had changed. Gradually over those one to two years, even you and Dean grew closer together. Not close enough to hang out alone, without other friends or your brother, but now he at least knew your name and always stuck around to talk a little more. You'd walk him to the front door if Max was too lazy (or fell asleep) and, even though you had said your goodbyes like three times by then, he'd gladly stand in the doorframe to talk to you a little more.
Your friendship was even strong enough to withstand a generous amount of distance between the two of you. You obviously wished him all the best when he made the move to Juventus and when he got the chance to play for the second team. Dean was talented, that much you could tell, even if your football knowledge was limited. At least you still got to see your crush for the U18 or U19 Team of the Netherlands, where he'd obviously still play with your brother.
And, well, that didn't last long. Or longer. After Dean's move to Bournemouth he decided to rather play for Spain. His other half. The other half that he always seemed to like more about himself. You loved seeing him thrive, but this decision hit a bit too close to home. You obviously still had school to finish, so you couldn't even drop everything for a game during international break. But, Max was his best friend, so it was natural that he'd invite him over to watch a game or two in the UK.
"Look, I don't know why you're so upset." Max shrugged and looked at you with a weirded out expression while you expressed your disappointed. Your disappointed that Dean didn't invite you, too. "You're not friends with him, or are you?" You huffed at your brothers comment and stormed off to the kitchen. "Ugh, what? Why are you so fucking obsessed? Do you want me to let him know that you also—" He was cut off by you yelling "No!" through the whole house. "No! If you do that I'm seriously—" The words in your mouth died out when Max looked at you in realization. Oh no, it finally clicked. "Oh my god, there's no way. Him?! Seriously? You like.. him? Dean Huijsen? What is wrong with you!" While you chased him through the living room, threatening to break both his legs, your brother just laughed at you.
Max may have had the last laugh back then, but now you do. Apparently, you were missed dearly and because Dean's schedule often clashed with your brother's, he opted to inviting you instead.
...
"So you'll be there?" Dean sounded as excited as ever, while you tried your best not to do the same. You had your phone wedged between your ear and shoulder, trying to multitask while making a hot chocolate for the little girl you were currently babysitting. "Yeah! Of course, it'll be great." Dean had just called to invite you to his last home game for Bournemouth.
Carefully, you handed the kid her drink so she could finally watch Minions 2 in peace, while you cleaned up the kitchen (and talked to Dean, obviously). "Soooo," You started, your thoughts already flooded with ideas on how to convince your parents to let you skip school for this. "Soooo?" He asked with a chuckle, "Are you sad? Like, because this is your last game for Bournemouth?" For a moment, there wasn't a single response from his side. You took your phone from your ear and looked at it confused because you thought he might've actually hung up at that stupid question you just asked him. Yeah, of course, the question must've been stupid! Why else wouldn't he—
"Hard to say. You're the first person to ask me this."
"Oh, well, I just thought.. maybe. Real Madrid is a big deal, I must say. But.. I don't know, it'll be weird not seeing you in red and black anymore."
"Heh," Dean chuckled again. "No, don't look at it like that. I'm sad... a little bit. But, like you said, this is a huge deal, you know?"
"Yeah..."
"Real's kits are superior by the way. I'll give you one when I get mine."
The words died out in your mouth. Dean, despite inviting you to his games more often than not (no matter if you were able to make it or not), had actually never given you one of his jerseys to wear. It maybe be a bit embarrassing, but you had thought about scenarios where that might happen to you some day and now he was just.. offering it! Just like that!
"Oh my god, really?" You were taken aback by how excited you sounded. "I mean... Yes, that would be cool." The boy on the other end of the line laughed and agreed with you, telling you he had to go now in the same breath and hung up. "Fucking hell, why am I so awkward?" You muttered to yourself. Suddenly you felt someone tug on your pants:
"Can you make me pancakes?"
...
"But! But Mom! Are you serious? No this is really important to me, come on.." Max rolled his eyes at your whining. Even if you would've done every chore in advance, even if you had cleaned the whole house, took care of dinner, done the laundry, got straight A's or brought peace on earth, your parents still wouldn't let you go to Dean's game.
"I said no! What is so hard to understand about that? I don't want your grades to suffer, sweetheart. I've already let you skip school three times for that boy!" While you were losing your mind about this once-in-a-life-time miss, even though it really wasn't, Max was amusing himself. "Stop laughing!" You hit him on the back of his head, to which he quickly whipped around and tried to do the same. "Max! Cut it out! Don't hit your sister." Your Dad finally yelled. "But she did it first!"
"So what? Are you ten? You don't have to hit her back?"
"Look, honey, I know that you like him and you think that he's the love of your life—"
"Mom!"
"I know that! But, you can't just always leave the country for two days just to see him. I can't go with you this time and your dad can't either."
"Mom, I'm literally 18, I already already passed my finals! There's no school I'm missing and I can go alone."
Apparently, no one outside yourself really understood what this meant for you. Defeated, you plopped down next to your brother on the couch and tried to somewhat enjoy the movie that was put on. After a few minutes of your Dad looking at you, then back at the TV and then back at you again, he sighed:
"When would it be?"
"What?"
"The game, silly."
Your face lit up, since this was a pretty clear sign that he had given in. Max next to you, on the other hand, just groaned and facepalmed, like this was the stupidest idea he's ever heard in his life. "Nah Dad, come on. This is ridiculous, I don't want her to date one of my friends!" You shot Max a look after he tried to come up with multiple excuses again on why you shouldn't be let go to the UK.
Of course, in a way you understood him. It was probably frustrating to him that he didn't even get invited in the first place and it must be annoying that one's little sister has this massive crush on one of your friends, but it's not like you can control your feelings.
"Alright, all of you need to stop with this whole dating thing." You said in response of your brother's complaining. To your suprise, Max actually stopped to hear you out for a second. "He just.. it's his last game at home for Bournemouth. Nothing will happen, I won't come home married or pregnant—"
"Oh, you better not! Or else I'll kill that kid."
"Dad."
"What? He always looks drugged out of his mind anyway."
Now you were the one that facepalmed and your Mom quickly told your Dad to knock it off. Your cheeks felt hot and your legs like jello as this topic about Dean was dragged on and on. You didn't like talking about your crush, especially not with your parents, that's like a thousand times more embarrassing.
Your mom grabbed the remote and put the movie on pause, grabbed both of your hands and made you look at her properly: "Okay," She started, suddenly seeming so serious about this, "You can go." Before you could even try to celebrate, she immediately cut you off again. "Ah! But! Only because school's almost over and only, only if you do your's and Max' chores for the whole week."
Max looked at you with a twinkle in his eye and laughed when he heard that he'd be free off his duties, but in reality you didn't mind. Frankly, you'd probably do anything to see Dean again. Alone this time. No annoying older brother, no overprotective parents, only him and you.
Later that night, Max decided to pay you a visit in your room. You were just minding your own business and typed something on your laptop, when the door suddenly swung open. "Max!" You yelled out, while said brother shut the door behind him. "Don't you know how to fucking knock?"
"So," Through the tone of his voice you understood that he was only here to tease you again. "You and Dean, huh?" Max took a seat on your bed. "Me and Dean, huh?"
"I just want you to know," When he realized you didn't pay any attention to him, he took the liberty to shut the laptop and take it off your lap. You sighed in annoyance and just gave him a 'what-do-you-want-from-me' kind of look. "...that you have my blessing."
"Your blessing? What are you talking about? I don't need your... blessing or whatever."
"Wait, so you weren't even the slightest bit scared that I wouldn't approve?"
"Believe it or not, you're not Dad. I don't need anything from you."
Max wasn't mad at you, but he still enjoyed seeing you doing all the exhausting things he would normally have to do. And when you asked for help, he refused, saying it was your own choice and you wanted to go see Dean's game. He'd scold you like your Mother if you didn't do the dishes correctly or forgot to do the laundry, basically taking the piss out of you.
What made it all worth it, though, was being able to talk to Dean more often. The footballer would text you, would check up on you and tell you how excited he is that you're coming over. That just fueled your delusions even more: Like, no one could tell you he didn't like you back just a little bit.
Why else would he fly you out and not someone else? Maybe if you manifested it enough, it would come true. When Dean moves to Spain the distance between the two of you will just grow closer, so you basically had to make the first step. If you got rejected, then.. well, sure you'd lose part of your dignity, but at least he's in Spain.
...
With your luggage in hand, you were waiting to be picked up by Dean's father, Donny, like always. Currently, you were listening in on a conversation between a husband and his mistress, on how he doesn't know how to divorce his wife and what would happen to the kids. Bournemouth Airport. It never gets old.
When you were finally in the car, and on your way to Dean's family home, you were really grateful to speak to someone in Dutch again after hours getting by with your, accented, English.
"How did your finals go?" Donny asked you whiem leaning one arm against the edge of the window. This was strange — No matter how often you flew to the UK, you'll never get used to sitting on the left side, in the passenger seat. "Uh, pretty good, I'd say."
The man next to you chuckled, "So you passed?" You've known Dean's family for a long while now, but it still was a bit awkward in that moment. Especially because there wasn't your dad or your mom to make conversation with the other parent.
"Thank you for coming by the way."
"Oh, there's no need to thank me! I.. I really like doing this. It's actually an honor that he invited me for his last game at home."
"He's been really excited. Primarily because you'll be there."
Donny laughed after he just exposed his son like that and you could immediately feel your cheeks burn up again. You took a moment to look outside the window and think about how this may go. Should you pretend like everything was fine and platonic? Or should you just.. tell him? Maybe it works out in your favor and you could cheer on your boyfriend tomorrow. No, that would be too much. You knew you couldn't ever confess to someone like that, you were too shy. But maybe you shouldn't be this time.
"Dean really likes you." It was like Donny could read your mind.
"Hah, really?"
"Yeah, no, no, no... He really, really likes you. I think you were actually the first person he told about his move to Madrid, outside of his family."
You smiled to yourself when you heard that. True, you were actually the bearer of the news to your brother, and if Dean didn't tell your brother first then.. yeah, that checks out. Donny probably already knew that you liked his son back, which you had already suspected. Ever since that one conversation he had with your mother, he can't help but try setting the two of you up.
"Anyway, here we are." The car pulled up into the driveway of this very british looking neighborhood you knew so well.
A happy and, suprisingly, little nervous Dean opened the front door for you and his dad. While the latter hauled your suitcase inside, Dean almost immediately leaned down to give you a hug. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you was probably the cutest thing you've seen all year.
"How are you?" He asked you out if courtesy, his hands coming down to rest on the small of your back when he slightly pulled away. It was like your brain turned into mush when your eyes met his, you didn't know what to say without sounding like an idiot. "Uhm," You chuckled nervously, "I'm good! And you?"
If you hadn't fully pulled out of the hug, you were sure you would've exploded right then and there. Dean shut the door behind you, but still kept his arm around your shoulder when leading you to through the hallway and to the living room. "Good. Great, even!" When you looked up to him you noticed that it was the first time he looked... awake, basically. Dean's droopy eyes are what you loved most about him, but seeing him like this was pretty amazing.
"Ah, oh my god!" Macha, his mother, hollered from the couch. Dean was basically a carbon copy of her and she was just as excited to see you. "Aw, how are you? Oh, it's like I haven't seen you in ages."
The woman gave you a warm hug, asking you about your family and how your brother was doing. "No, no, he's very happy at Ajax." You explained about Max while Macha was fixing you something to drink.
"I knew he'd be. He's a clever boy, your brother!" Donny has had his fair share of time at the club himself. While his parents asked you a million things about your life and your brother, Dean was more than eager to get you away from them. "Sorry, they're so nosy." He whispered to you.
"Don't worry, you'll get her all for yourself in a minute." Macha gave her son the look and handed you thr coffee you had requested.
"Mom.. I'm just—"
"There's still time left until dinner. Why don't you guys go upstairs?"
...
"Here," Dean tossed a shirt out of his closet directly at your face. Confused, you took it into your hands and held it up to see what it read. Huijsen. Oh, his last name. You looked at the boy with a slightly confused expression on your face, turning the jersey around to see the Bournemouth sigil stiched on the left side of it.
"I figured," Dean's voice suddenly didn't sound all that confident anymore. "Uhm, that you need something. For tomorrow." Your fingers delicately traced his number that was printed out on the back of the shirt. "I realized I never gave you one."
"Thank you! That's like, really thoughtful." Dean chuckled at your words and took a seat next to you on his bed. "It'll look good on you." He promptly took the jersey out of your hands and held it up to your body to see if he was right. "Maybe a bit big, but red and black are definitely your colors."
All you could do was nod and hope that Dean wouldn't notice how your cheeks turned almost crimson red the more compliments he gave you. Even if you attempted to talk at this point, only nonsene would come out. You took a deep breath to compose yourself: "You're like.. two meters tall, this will be like a dress."
Dean grinned and just shook his head. Nervously, you fiddled around with the hem of the shirt he had just gifted you, while he stood up again and searched through more clothes in his closet.
"Come here."
"Huh?"
"Come on, I gotta see something."
After a moment, you obeyed and approached him. Dean's room hadn't changed one bit from the last time you saw it — It's exactly what you'd expect a room of a man in his late teens would look like. Not very interesting, filled with individual trophies he won and pretty bare overall.. why are boys like this?
The footballer whipped around and gave you another jersey — Bournemouth's third kit of this season. "Okay, I get that you don't need these anymore, but why give them all to me?" Dean snickered and gave you the piece of clothing anyway. "You're funny."
"I'm just asking."
"I want you to have them. You're important to me so I'm giving them to you, what's there to complain about?"
"I'm important to you?"
Dean slowly realized he might've screwed up with his choice of words. His eyes fell droopy again, boring into yours like he was trying to see your soul through them. "Ehhh," His gaze shifted away from you and onto the ground, "..yes? I mean, I like you, don't I?"
For a long moment there was just silence as Dean stared at you in disbelief (at his own words) and you were just expecting him to speak up. "I fucked up now, right?"
Carefully, you dropped the clothes you had in your hand onto the floor, feeling more confident now that he seemed to be nervous. It was like becoming an extrovert when around other introverts — It came so naturally, you couldn't really tell yourself to stop. Because, this was literally your chance. The one you've been waiting for since forever.
"You didn't.. fuck up, Dean."
The boy took a deep breath.
"Okay, so this won't ruin our friendship?"
"What?"
The moment Dean cuppe your face with his hands was like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat and suffering short term memory loss. You only remembered to kiss him back after he had pressed his lips onto yours several seconds ago.
The kiss was slow, conservative, but still expressed the things he couldn't quite put into words. His lips felt so delicate on yours, as if he was too scared he'd break you if he deepened it too fast. This was making your brain go smooth, that's for sure. When he eventually pulled away and looked you in the eyes, searching for any amount if disapproval, he couldn't find any. Anything, actually. The more you stared at him, the more it felt like your pupils were physically forming into hearts.
"This.."
"Don't— Don't talk, it's okay."
"This doesn't change anything?" Dean looked at you confused.
"Everything. But.."
You were dying to feel his lips on yours again. In that very same moment you heard his mom yell for dinner downstairs.
Now that the summer holidays are over in the UK, I decided this was the time to take Nevis to the beach in Bournemouth. Because I do like to be beside the seaside, I do like to be beside the sea... but only when it's not too crowded with people on holiday and seagulls everywhere. While there at the top of the cliff we came across this little fella:
You don't see many lizards or reptiles in the UK. I believe this is a Common Wall Lizard. At least they're common in much of Europe; you only find them on the south coast here. Anyway I liked it so much, I decided to take one home with me:
(It was a toy, obviously. We didn't actually abduct any lizards.)
And yeah, unfortunately I doubt they would have allowed Nevis into the Oceanarium. I didn't ask, but, he's like the opposite of what they want in there.
I think there were some firemen training on that bridge. At least I assume they were firemen, and assume it was a dummy they had on the stretcher.
