A/N: Hoorah my first drama fanfic! Also this will be a new multi-chapter fanfic so expect more chapters to come. As for those people waiting for The Secret Police updates, I'm trying to catch up. I'm still working on my draft and finishing the chapter to be published. I'm sorry for the long wait. I hope this fanficiton would compensate for my mistake D:

Allan= Scotland, Connor= Ireland, Dustin= Wales

I do not own Hetalia, Hidekaz does.


Prologue 1

The scent of cigarettes filled the air as Arthur read his book. He also heard muffled noises of his father's steely voice scolding his brother. Arthur, still very young and simply helpless, decided to drop the book he was so absorbed in and get out of his room. He roamed the wide corridors of the mansion and ignored the maids that tidied the halls. He didn't have the courage to say a greeting anyway, his father coldly forbade him to do so.

Being the son of a wealthy business company wasn't easy for him; his parents have expected a lot of him from a young age. They flooded him with their ambitions, as if they planned his whole life out. If he was old enough, he would be given the privilege to rule the family's company, Kirkland Co.. His oldest brother, Dustin, took that right first and up next was Connor. His parents seemed more attentive to Connor than before. Arthur was confused to why his parents would always avoid him and boringly encourage him to keep being a good boy. His parents were always so fond of Dustin and Connor. But Allan, he was always being nagged at. Peter was exceptional; he was still an infant after all.

Arthur then slipped into the most left part of the hall, where Allan's room was there. He was about knock when he noticed was slightly ajar he decided to peek on it. There stood his father, smoking a cigarette and Allan crossing his arms against his chest.

"It's about time I told you that you'll be taking the company soon," his father informed as he took another smoke, "you better belt up and start doing well in school. Don't waste my time, boy."

Allan's droopy eyes gave a cold glare. "What if I didn't want to take over the company, father?"

"What do you mean, Allan?" his father asked with a frigid tone of his voice.

"I don't want to take over the company. You can't force me, father," Allan said, attempting to make his voice as icy as his father's.

His father growled and took a few steps closer to the preteen. He scratched his scalp and growled, "We educated, trained and even prepared you for that possibility, young man," he finished with one last smoke, "You can't waste that chance." He threw the cigarette butt on his smoking tray.

"Father," Allan argued as nicely as he could but wasn't able to conceal the trace of anger, "you have mistreated me to do that privilege. Is it not better if I please you with something else aside from taking over the place?"

And for a moment Arthur thought he heard something snap and winced when his father grabbed Allan by the lapels of his jacket and gritted his teeth. "There is no other way you would please me, Allan. I have never maltreated you. I was preparing you."

Allan retorted, "That's bullshit! You've never even prepared me. Why is it that my mind is unprepared for it then? Is that forceful way of you talking to me what you call a comforting invitation?"

His father bellowed, "YOU'RE JUST BEING UNREASONABLE, YOU DUMB FUCK!"

He pushed Allan harshly away from him which made him almost land on the floor on his bum. He balanced himself but when he did he saw his father slap him across his cheek. The slap's noise echoed throughout the room and Allan stood still, never removing that cold scowl and endured the stinging pain. His father took another cigarette and lit it up. He smoked with his face extremely red from frustration and he glanced icily at the still Allan.

"Don't you dare use that language on me," his father warned, "You're being ungrateful for what I've done for you. I wasted so much fucking time on you."

Allan clenched his fists and gave a firm response, "Yes, father." His father nodded and approached the door. Luckily, when he went out, he didn't notice Arthur at the side. Arthur flinched and stayed waited for him to leave the corridor and he rushed into Allan's room.

"Brother," Arthur sheepishly greeted Allan who was seated on his expensive wooden chair, "are you alright?"

Allan's eyebrows arched, "you saw all of that?" Arthur nodded. Allan stood up and knelt to reach the young boy's height.

"I'm fine. Father is just teaching me… something," Allan feigned.

Arthur only nodded but he knew so well albeit he was young, he knew too well. Allan was being abused.


Years have passed, and Connor finally took over the company, Allan was next in line and Arthur was almost old enough to get the privilege. Almost.

However, he wasn't ignorant of what his father had being doing to Allan: he was being beaten up and aggressively abused by their father and their mother simply didn't do anything but encourage them to keep doing good. For now, Arthur had to endure the harsh treatment from his father and Peter was still learning for he was just a kindergartner. Arthur knew how to set his limits because he has seen his father do much worse on Allan before. Right now, Allan is avoiding that treatment too.

But that changed when his father started drinking.

Lately, his father started hanging out with his businessmen friends every night. He would usually come home wasted and in the morning, he would have greater fury than before because of his obnoxious hangover. Arthur had been wary of doing that but no matter how many times he did, he was always caught up into it.

"You piece of shit, thinking you could disobey your father?" His father bellowed as he circled the defenseless Arthur in the enormous living room, "think you could run away?!"

Arthur bit back his tongue and gave a great attempt of a nonchalant gaze. His father mistook that as a glare. One wrong move. His father smacked him on the head. "Why are you glowering at me?"

Arthur stifled a painful moan and continued to endure his father's lashes.

"You disrespectful," another hit,

"insolent," Arthur gave up and cried in pain,

"weak, and," his father pulled at his hair, "ungracious shit!"

Arthur knelt down and allowed tears to stream down his face. However, he still didn't talk. His father gave up and took another swig of his beer, yelling, "Scram, you git. Don't let me see your fucking face until morning."

And Arthur did so.


A/N: I just made up Kirkland Co.. Yep, two prologues. And don't worry you were expecting Alfred to come in weren't you? Don't worry he will appear after the second prologues. :) I'd appreciate it if you'd review this.