Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.
Warning: this involves language, Scottish humor, and kidnapping.
Enjoy! :D
Chapter one: Awake
"Papa! Papa!" screamed a little girl, as she ran down the stairs. She wore a bright blue night gown (blue being her favorite color), and she also had her hair sloppily in pigtails held together by two red ribbons.
The house wasn't very big a living area, and a kitchen was all that was downstairs the upstairs was mostly restrooms and bedrooms. Her brown eyes turned wide when she finally reach the kitchen, and found the person she had been calling.
"Honhonhon, you're awake, angel!" replied the French man said as he flipped his wavy blonde bangs out of his face. He wore the rest of his hair in a pony tail. His outfit consisted of a white puffy pirate shirt and black pants with matching boots. His hazy blue eyes set on hers with delight.
The girl plopped down in his lap, and smiled up at him.
"Papa!" She hugged the man, and smiled up at him with big brown eyes.
The two in the kitchen could hear the pitter patter of feet upstairs (the girl knew her brothers were up).
"Mat, dude, sorry I didn't see you there" the shorter haired American boy said to the longer haired Canadian boy.
"It's alright, Al." the longer haired Canadian replied softly holding his teddy bare closer to his chest.
The little girl's family was not normal, and wasn't really related at all. But some how everyone had a title like any normal family except for…
"Bloody hell where is the tea!" cursed a curtain Englishman with bright green eyes massive eye brows and poke-a-dot pajamas on.
Now if her family where normal, this Englishman would be her mother (according to the fact he was the next oldest in the house hold), but for the girl to call him 'mother' was just too weird.
The girl sat contently on her Papa's lap, and ate her breakfast, pancakes, her longer haired brother had fixed for her.
She had just put the last bit of pancake in her mouth before the front door swag open with a thud!
"Ian?" the French and English man said in unison.
The French man gently slid the little girl off his lap to go confront the intruder.
The intruder was a red hair Scottish boy with a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Like the Englishman, he had deep green eyes, but (unlike the Englishman) he wore a skirt of some kind, and a red shirt.
That red shirt, and the screams of her family were the last thing the little girl remembered before blacking out.
Ian laughed at the thirteen year old girl standing in front of him.
"You wrote that, Vic?" Ian smirked, very amused.
"For a school project, Ian!" Vic frowned putting her hand on her hips.
"Why would you write it like that?" Ian looked a little confused and a lot more hurt.
"'cause your version makes me sound abused and weak." Vic said flipping her hair back over her shoulder.
"Well your version makes me sound all bad and shit!" Ian said puffing his cigarette angrily.
"Don't be upset. It's not like any of my 'family' is alive to ask." She gave the Scottish man a laugh and took away his cigarette, "you said no more smoking."
"Babe, I say a lot of things. Now go to school." He hugged Vic taking back his smoke, and headed down into his office.
"She wrote a story about you." Ian looked at the smaller Englishman in the jail cell.
"Bastard. Does she know you took everything!" the English man spat at the Scottish man.
"No, Arthur. She doesn't know. Like you will tell her." Ian laughed, a cruel and harsh sound.
Arthur's voice was weak and sad, "C-can I see her? Just once?"
Ian smirked he loved having something over his younger brothers head, "We'll see, love"