Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds
And I sae weary full o' care?
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird
That wantons thro' the flow'ry thorn
Ye mind o' departed joys
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine
And ilka bird sang o' its love
And fondly sae did I o' mine
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Full sweet upon its thorny tree
And my fause lover stole my rose
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
Scotland wandered through the bracken, his hand trailing on the gorse bushes lining the tiny path, not really caring much about the thorns scratching at his hands. His expression was pensieve as he remembered the happier times of his younger, far more rebellious days. He would never really refer to them as his youth; he had been too old even then to really be called a boy any more. Still, Scotland wished he was still as carefree. He stopped as he noticed a small rose bush struggling to grow amongst the hardier plants. He smiled softly as he noticed the small pink flower starting to bloom on the strongest branch:
Flashback
"Whit's this fer?" Scotland asked, perplexed as France handed him a pink rose, flushing furiously,
"W... well I thought that since we 'ad an Alliance..." the blonde haired nation trailed off, for once too embarrassed to string a coherent sentence together, "Deui, this is 'ard..." he muttered, causing Scotland to chuckle as he took the flower,
"I love you too ye stupid git." He said, placing a somewhat chaste kiss on the French man's cheek, causing the other to flush even more. Scotland merely laughed as he ran off ahead of France; calling over his shoulder, "Wait 'til the ithers see yer face!"
End Flashback
Scotland shook his head in mild disbelief, had it really been more than 715 years since the official beginning of the 'Auld Alliance'? Of course he had been very good friends with France long before then and it was clear that the French nation had been smitten the moment he'd laid eyes on the northern nation:
Flashback
"Oi, wee one! Whit've I telt ye about settin' foot on ma land?"Caledonia barked as Brittania cowered amongst a thicket of gorse. The tiny nation whimpered as he tried to scoot away from his oldest brother,
"I... I'm sorry!" he cried, the tears already spilling from his overly large eyes, "B...but Gaul is trying to take over!" Caledonia stopped, frowning in confusion,
"Who?" he asked, but before Brittania could reply a cheerful voice called out,
"Oh Brittania, mon cheri. Where 'ave you disappeared to mon lapin?"it sang as a tall, blonde haired young lady sauntered through the forest. Caledonia stared at the newcomer, this was the Gaul that his little brother was so terrified of? His face cracked into a grin as he walked over to the other nation,
"Well hullo there." He called, catching the newcomer's attention, "Whit's a bonnie wee creature like yersel' daein' wanderin' around a' by yer lonesome?"He asked, leaning against a tree casually. Gaul whirled around to see who had spoken, ready to speak, but the words died in his throat,
"I... I am looking for a little boy with blonde 'air and green eyes. He calls himself Brittania." He stuttered. Caledonia grinned,
"He's o'er in the gorse bushes, but can I ask why ye're chasing after ma wee brither?" he asked. Gaul flushed,
"Je desole, I was not aware..." he trailed off when Caledonia started to laugh,
"Dinnae worry yer pretty wee heid aboot it." He assured him, "Ye can hae yer merry wee way wi' him when he gets oot o' his hidin' place. Gods know that Rome and Saxony ruined the laddie."Caledonia strode over to Gaul, took his hand and placed a gentle kiss on it, "Whaur are ma manners? I'm Caledonia, it's nice tae meet ye Gaul."The gesture caused the fledgling nation to flush,
"The pleasure is all mine Caledonia." He replied shyly, hiding his face behind his hair coyly.
End Flashback
Scotland laughed lightly at the memory, of course he'd had no idea that Gaul was even male at the time, so the revelation had been... startling to say the least. Not that it had changed their feelings any, if anything it had just intensified them. Of course like any relationship between nations the two of them had had their ups and downs, but generally the bond between them was something not easily broken and the two bounced back time and again. But there was that one time... the one incident that had almost ruined everything. The Scottish Reformation:
Flashback
"So you are allying yourself with Angleterre?" France said, his voice low. He wasn't even looking at Scotland any more. Scotland bit his lip,
"Francis, ye have tae understand. I dinnae hae a choice in the matter." His voice was rising unsteadily. He knew it had been a bad idea to even bring this up after France had heard about it second hand. France glared up at the Scottish nation,
"You could 'ave chosen to fight." He spat, "but non, you 'ad to roll over like the good little puppy that you are!"Scotland got up out of his seat,
"I am not rolling over to that little brat!" he shouted, "Lord knows I'd rather be daein' my ain thing, but thins didnae work oot like that!" He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and sat back down. France sent his now former ally a glare before downing his wine and getting up,
"Then I suppose that this is where we will 'ave to part ways." He muttered, sounding almost upset. Scotland glared at the table,
"Aye, I guess so." He muttered. When he didn't add anything France snorted and swept out of the pub, muttering curses in French as he did. Scotland watched him go out of the corner of his eye, sighed heavily and downed his whisky and promptly ordered another one,
"I'm startin' tae get too auld fer this." He muttered to himself.
End Flashback
Scotland hissed as he pricked his finger on the thorns of the tiny rose; he hadn't realised he'd started gripping it so hard. He got a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around his finger before using his other hand to gently pick the rose from the bush. He brought the flower to his face, closing his eyes as he took in its subtle scent. It still smelled like him. Scotland sighed as he put the rose in one of his button holes, intent on getting it into some water when he got home. The red haired nation sighed as he started the long trek home, singing one of his favourite songs softly as he picked his way through the gorse,
"Ye banks and braes o' Bonnie Doon..."