There was a reason why Portugal didn't like England's house.
It was freaking huge.
More than once, whenever she came over for a meeting about affairs that she wished she couldn't bother with, she would always get lost. She could never quite get her bearings right in the huge house. It would always be her good old ally England or a servant who would find her looking confused and lost in a random corridor, still trying to configure her way around.
But now, Portugal was really lost.
She had just entered the house a couple of minutes ago and now she couldn't find her way back to the entrance. She looked around to get her sense of direction sorted, but to no avail. It didn't help that England had mentioned 'my colonies would be there to help you'. What colonies? She didn't see anyone other than herself! That guy! She would deal with her so-called buddy later. Even her brother Spain's house wasn't this gigantic…
She turned left at a corridor and began walking. Wrong turn. She found herself at a dead end. Cursing and groaning under her breath, she turned and headed the other way. Her annoyance sparkled again when she had to yet again make a choice between going straight and walking through another corridor she was quite sure wasn't even there before. Following her instincts, she decided to walk straight. She thought she was going the right way when she saw some familiar paintings. But her spirits plummeted when she came to a dead end and saw unfamiliar doors.
Sucking in a loud breath, she muttered, "Damn, I'm really lost…"
"Some hulp, miss?"
Portugal nearly jumped when she heard that voice. She whipped around and saw a man staring back at her. He had messy red hair and unusually thick eyebrows. An unlit cigarette dangled precariously from his mouth. He wore a military uniform of some sort, with an open jacket over a dark blue shirt with white straps.
"W-who are you?" she asked, her fear of taller, male strangers returning to her.
"Scotland," the man drawled back. "'N' ye?"
"P-Portugal," she replied.
"That means ye must be England's freish ally," the man replied.
"I'm not his fresh ally, if that's what you mean," she said. With a note of pride in her voice, she added, "I've been allies with him for quite a while now. Where is he, by the way?"
"He's in a meetin' wi' his gaffer. He'll be stowed fur annur twenty minutes," Scotland replied in a dialect Portugal couldn't quite tick. Seeing her confusion, Scotland jerked his head to one side. He knew that he ought to bring her to a place where she could sit, whatever 'gentleman' manners England fussed over about. He jerked his head to one side.
"Come oan, let's gang ootdoors," Scotland said.
Portugal quietly followed him outside. She had never been in Britain's garden before. She was not surprised that it was big. She saw Scotland walk over to an oak tree, taking big strides, and he sat down on a thick root without a trace of hesitance. Portugal quickened her footsteps and sat down on another thick root. She looked up. White clouds were drifting lazily across the blue sky. She enjoyed the serenity for a while before Scotland interrupted her thoughts.
"Sae howfur lang huv ye bin his ally?" Scotland asked, relighting his cigarette.
"Let's just say it's been about three hundred years already," she replied.
"That's pure lang!" Scotland exclaimed, his eyes wide.
"Yes, but he's such an idiot sometimes," Portugal sighed. "I can't believe I stuck with him for so long. It's a bit unbelievable. I don't know how long this alliance is going to last. But if I'm going to be his ally for the next hundred years, so be it," she turned to Scotland. "So how did you get to know England?"
"A'm his brother."
"Really? I never knew! I thought those eyebrows of yours looked familiar."
"Trust me, England has a lot of brothers," Scotland muttered. "He's got me, Ireland, Northern Ireland 'n Wales for big brothers."
"That's a lot of siblings. I only have one brother," Portugal said, the Iberian Union immediately coming into her mind.
"Elder or younger?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't really know… We've both been around for a long time, but I suppose in terms of power he's better than me, so I think he's the elder one," Portugal murmured, straightening the creases on her dress.
"Ah dun think that's howfur ye decide whilk sibling is th' elder one," Scotland said. "Since ye said ye 'n' yer brother huv bin aroond fur a lang time, ah jalouse ye twa kin be considered twins.
Portugal never thought of that before. She considered it. "Well, maybe that's one way to put it."
Scotland gave her a crooked smile. "We four huv aye bin th' brothers wha argie a lot. Never ane moment o' peace. Ireland 'n' Wales wull complain aboot England's fairn. England wull complain aboot me smoking in th' I'll complain aboot his brassic cooking again.
"…Oh," Portugal said. "I do think England has bad cooking. I was quite fortunate I didn't eat his macaroons the other time."
"Ireland, Wales 'n' ah wur forced tae sloch th' macaroons sae that Englain cuid improve oan thaim frae oor criticism. We a' hud indigestion"
"Yuck."
"Not tae mention about his fish 'n' chips. Ne'er gaun tae sloch they again."
"I threw away the pudding he gave me the last time."
"Wales hud stomach kinch fur twa weeks efter eating his salad."
"That must be bad. Holland accidentally ate England's dessert and well… you know what happened."
They continued talking for another fifteen minutes. For Portugal, she was glad to have found a friend she could talk to about England. She also felt treated with a certain warmth, akin to the happiness she felt whenever she was with Indonesia. Although she was used to being treated differently by Holland and Spain, Scotland's friendliness was a nice change. As for Scotland, he considered Portugal as his first female friend and liked her boyish, open attitude.
Just then, Portugal heard the sound of rustling grass. She turned and saw England trekking towards them. He called, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you two!"
"England!" Portugal exclaimed. She got to her feet. England approached her, slightly breathless.
"S-so here you are. You too, Scotland. Have you two been here all the time?"
"Aye. Just talking to Portugal."
"Sorry, England. We can start our meeting now," Portugal apologised. England nodded. "I'll bring you to the meeting room," he said.
Portugal turned to Scotland and grinned. "See you around, Scotland!"
He lifted a hand and returned the smile. "Same tae ye, friend."