Allistor. Is it your time? His heart raced faster. Was he really going to go through with this. Yes. He told himself over and over, grip knuckle white on the knife. Arthur eased the door open to Allistor's room, bitting on his lower lip. His fear hung in the air, a tension only he could feel. Light from the hall poolled into the dark room. He silently padded across the floor, tattered robes sticking to his nervous and small frame. Green eyes peeked out from under blond hair and rested on his older brother. The boy, not yet a man who was forced to raise the rest of the Kirkland boys, was still peacefully asleep. Or so it seemed. The little boy paused to take in the lean frame of the one who raised him. Lying on his side, peacefully dreaming in only his pj pants. His shirt was off, allowing the little boy a clear view of his chest. Of the spot where his heart rested...

It wasn't hard to find excuses for the Scots behavior when he looked so docile. No. Do not think of him like that. Think of all the pain he has caused you. All the beatings you took. How now matter how much you tried, he always looked down on you. Weak. That is what this boy sees you as. Prove him wrong. Prove them all wrong. His grip on the handle tightened furthar, though it felt impossible, and his breathing hitched. This is it. Now or never. Nerves lit through him and he squeezed his eyes shut, lifting it higher. Arthur was just about to bring the blade down when the voice shattered all the confidence and bravery he'd managed to build.

"'re ye goin' te kill meh?" The Scotish accent drifted down from the bed and shook him to the core, surprisingly awake and cool. Distant. Arthur flicked his eyes back open to see that his brother had rolled over on the bed, now facing him. The look on Allistor's face was board and impassive. You caught me in the act of attempted murdur, Allistor. Do not look so calm, so sedated. You could have died. Would that have made you happy? It only bothered the blond even more, but he found he couldn't move. He'd frozen up. Green eyes locked with each other and there was a moment of silence. What was once fear bloomed into dread. What had he been thinking? What had I been thinking?

"Bro-Brother..." Arthur stumbled, unsure of what to do. Why did he have to have woken up? What do I do now? He hadn't guessed the redhead would awaken before the deed was done. Nor had he suspected he'd freeze up like this. It felt like he was staring into the eyes of a snake. Something cold and cruel, inhuman. Shivers took his body and made the knife shake in his hands. A larger hand reached out and calmly grabbed a trembling wrist.

"'ow many times 'ave ah taught ye?" Allistor grumbled slowly, yanking the boy onto the bed and pinning him. The silver steal glinted in smaller grasp from the hall's light. The look on Arthur's face was one of fear mixed with pain, expectant for missery. "Te kill," The redhead's hands slid to the wrist of the other that held the knife. Allistor hovered over his brother, preventing the younger's escape. His voice was low, cruel bites slipping into his numbed tone. "Ye 'ave te cut 'ere." He guided the blade against his neck. Arthur's eyes teared up. The deadly serious look Allistor gave him was scary. Was the Scotsman snapping again? The blond found he couldn't speak. This only seemed to intensify a growing insanity in the older boy.

Darker green eyes strained wide. Large red eyebrows knitted together. "Wot's wrong, Artie? This chance, it wo'nee come again." Allistor pulled his little brother's hand closer to his own throat, feeling the cool metal bite into his skin. Crimsion blood, not much different in color to his hair, dribbled down the silver and his pale neck. Oh, how he loved the feeling. The release he'd been craving for so long wasn't far away. Just a little more prodding at the child beneith him and he'd have it. Of this, Allistor was sure. "If ye draw this knife back, then yer big brother will die." The redhead felt his lips quiver into a smile. Arthur shrunk farther back into the bed, tears blurring his vision. His older brother looked crazy and he didn't like it. "Well then. Do i'."

Arthur pulled back, finding a little energy to attempt to escape. "N-no!" Not like this. The blond didn't want things to happen like this. No. Do not try to get me to do this for you. I see it now. You would love it if I did this, but you want it to leave a scar. You want to die. You want me to grant you this wish, yet carry on a bitter memory. You are too afraid of being forgotten to go down quietly.

"Ah'm tellin' ye te do it!" The angry growl was a strong contrast to the sickingly sweet and twisted tone he'd been using before, anger growing by the boy's reluctance. He wondered why his brother came in as such if he wasn't going to follow through. Had he shaken him up too much? Allistor knitted his eyebrows together in annoyance, letting his hatred and distaste for the little boy show in those emerald eyes of his.

They locked eyes and Alli saw the weakness that rested inside of Arthur. His lips curled back into a snarl, snatching the knife out of the blond's hand. "If ye fockin' wo'nee then," He pressed the blood tainted edge against the boy's neck in return. Allistor wasted no time applying enough pressure to make him bleed. "Ah'll kill ye, ye basterd." A sharp gasp escaped thin parted lips. The scream Arthur had wanted to make stuck in his throat and he was forced to swallow it so he could breath. His little heart beat so loud, it echoed in his ears. The Scotsman snarled above him, rage filled eyes looking for a response. Waiting for something. Lighter green eyes peered up at him, tears staining his young cheeks.

"Okay..."

Arthur's voice didn't shake as much as either of them had expected it to. Calm. Soft. No clear thought slipped through his mind that didn't have to do with accepting death by the hand of his older brother. His eyes fell half shut, ready for the end. Allistor paused, his own eyes widening in surprise. And in fear. This boy, his little brother, wasn't afraid anymore. He was accepting death. He'd already accepted pain. What else was there to use to control him? How else could he make the boy bend and finally break? The redhead sighed and pulled back, climbing off Arthur. He slid one leg off the bed, knife held loosely in his fingers, then the other. His blood had dripped down to his chest, thin rivulets that were starting to dry on him.

"Yer so borin'." He said, voice returning to his distant and icey tone. Allistor let the blade drop from his fingers and onto the wooden floor, back to his little brother. He paid no mind to the sobs of the child as he left for the kitchen. No doubt was he after another bottle of his favorite whiskey. Arthur covered his face with his arms, lying where he was left like a discarded toy. His small frame shook and shivered from the relief of having the older boy gone.

Why me? What did I ever do? I know I have gotten into my own bits of trouble, but enough to deserve this? I do not know any other kids who have to bandage themselves for school... Ow- This hurts. I wish it would stop hurting. The pain means I am awake, does it not? I do not want to be awake. If this was a dream, a nightmare, then I would have a chance at waking up to a better life.

Kill your enemies, before they have the chance to kill you...

(A/N: From here down)

I got the plot from a video.
Like, directly. I just wrote it out.
And butchered the Scot's accent a bit.
Not mine in any way, shape, or form at all.
I just wrote out a story version of that video
and added some thought from Arther's point of view.
If you want the youtube video, just ask. I can send a link.

Or search "scotland doujinshi - kill or be killed (eng)"
on and it is the first video, by StrawberrySplat.