[ This is probably the only Fanfic with Roth Kirkland, my name for Scotland, that I actually like how it turned out. I know there are supposed to be more chapters for this story, but I haven't been able to figure out how to word them well just yet. I'm... struggling with that part. I hope you like it!

I don't own the characters, or anything. :'3 Just my story~ ]

Learning to Love - Ch:1 Childhood

"I never agreed ta take care of him!" The words came out of his throat in a hoarse yell of anger as he stomped around his room. The anger clear in his blazing emerald eyes as well as in the wake of his anger. The tattered mess that could have once been labeled his desk, his weapon chest, and his bed… were all pretty clear signs that he had been, and still was, angry. "I never fuckin' agreed ta this!"

Perhaps it was unfair to be so angry about this. It wasn't like his parents could really help it… they were busy all of the time, which was part of the reason he'd become the designated nanny in the first place. First, it was just the Ireland twins. But taking care of them was something he had offered to do. What else could he have done? His mother had looked so distressed… She needed to go off to war again, she had to fight, and she couldn't bring two small children along with her! That would be practically killing them with her own hands! He'd heard all those words from her herself before he had agreed. And even now… he never regretted offering to take them off her hands. For her sake.

She had smiled at him, her awkward bright grin that was honest and warm. He loved her smile. He never regretted helping her back then. He never regretted that moment, not even now.

It wasn't like it would have ended differently anyways. He had recognized that the moment he had agreed to it. Father had long sense determined that Wales, that his big brother, was going to be the one he would train to become a great and powerful kingdom. At that point, Wales had been isolated away from the rest of his brothers. Made to study history, art, how to be a good leader… All of these things, these important things, were only taught to him. Father only showed that sort of interest in him. Scotland really hadn't cared. He had wanted to spend more time with his only elder brother but… he had lived with how things were. It hadn't bothered him so much that he was angry about it. Nor did knowing that things wouldn't have changed even if he hadn't offered to be the nanny, for his mother's sake, make him any bitterer with the world then any normal child his age. Someone needed to take care of the twins, so he would do it.

Sometimes… he felt more like their parents then their older brother. But… he didn't mind. He really didn't. They were cute, and he loved teaching them. Teaching them how to hunt, how to track, how to sing… how to play music. Of course… the younger twin, North Ireland, would always tease him for it. Saying that Scotland's playing the harp was girly, but he tolerated the playful jabs of his younger brother… and went on with his life. Plus, with Ireland there, dancing to the music playfully… he couldn't stop himself from playing it, regardless of the teasing.

… but this time was different.

This was different than that scenario. This time was different then when he'd offered to take the Ireland twins to help take care of them. He hadn't agreed to this… He hadn't agreed to take care of this one. He hadn't even been asked this time around. … this… this one… he didn't like.

"I need to go. Please, take care of him for me!" Those were the last words that the little red-headed boy had really heard in a conversation, alone, with his mother until the day she died. After that… whenever she'd come back, she no longer had the time to spend with just him alone. But with those words, she had handed off a small bundle to him, which he had hosted up to his face to get a good look at.

The child was small and obviously one of mums. He could tell within a moment looking at the child… he had their mumsy's awkward, honest, eyebrows… But the golden hair was a trait he wasn't used to. Confusion laced his eyes for a bit and he looked at the child. It was so small… a baby. It wasn't awake currently, though. It slept, its eyes closed and its thumb contently in its mouth. It was warm, soft… and much younger then he'd ever seen a child.

But, Scotland didn't understand. How could he have… Where had this child come from? He hadn't… Mum hadn't told him or any of the rest of the family that she had been pregnant? Actually, she hadn't been around home at all for a while. So for her to come home so suddenly had been a surprise. Not to mention… bringing home a child. Scotland only stared at the child… A mixture of feelings running through his chest as he looked at the sleeping baby.

"Mumsy-" He never got to voice his question to his mother. His role-model and the only person he'd ever truly looked up to. She was out the door faster than he could have possibly spoken… leaving the door wide open, and leaving her child watching with a mixture of confusion and sadness as he saw the last of her cloak disappear around the wooden doorframe.

One of the emotions that he felt strongest was… he loved the child. He really did. It was his little sibling. He knew that the moment he had seen the child… And he loved it already. But another emotion hit him just as hard: jealously. Was this babe the reason why mum had been gone for so long? Was this child the reason that she hadn't come home in so long, the reason she felt like she couldn't? Was it for this child that she had stayed away for so long? Then it was anger… Mumsy, his favorite person in the entire world, had chosen this little thing over the rest of them?

That was the first time that rage flashed through his eyes when he looked at England. That was the first time he had considered hurting the child… but… the flash was only there long enough for him to realize he'd had that thought… And then it was gone. In a flash so fast, so quickly, that he almost immediately began to wonder if he had felt something at all in that moment.

…

The real anger started after he had been raising England and the Ire twins for a while. It was tiring; one of the three of them almost always needed his attention. One of the three of them always needed him for something. It didn't matter that Scotland needed to sleep, the baby was crying… It didn't matter that Scotland was supposed to go to town to get come supplies and some food for the family, Father couldn't watch after them like he promised, because he'd decided he'd rather finish his lesion with Wales. It didn't matter that Scotland had friends that he'd promised to meet up with… Mumsy had to leave again. It didn't matter that Wales agreed to watch them for the evening, Father decided to have an extra lesion for him… Saying that if you have enough time to watch children, you obviously don't need a break.

It didn't matter anymore what Scotland wanted, or even needed, to do anymore… He needed to watch them. He needed them with him all the time. It was tiring, exhausting, painful, and to be honest? Too much.

He never got angry at the Ire twins. They had been manageable for him, because of one simple fact. Frankly, he was used to raising them. They were the children he'd been raising practically all his life, they were practically his children with how much more time they spent with him than their mother or father. But this new one, the new little child that he'd come to have to watch, England… Iggy, as his family had come to affectionately calling him… just pissed him off.

And it was only a matter of time until he would voice it. To be more exact, months later that he would finally voice it.

Scotland had never agreed to taking care of him. Scotland had never even been given the chance to say, 'No, I don't think I can handle takin' care of 'nother kid.' He was never given the chance to tell his parents that he was only a kid himself and needed to be watched over, not only watch after others. He was never given the chance to just say that he would like some time to be a kid himself. He was forced to grow up. Forced to pretend to be a parent for these children who should be his little siblings, and should have been growing up alongside of him, instead of being raised by him.

"I never agreed ta this! 'nd I'm fuckin' sick of it!" Tears were rolling down from his blazing eyes… He looked equally sad as he did angry. He hated this, hated being treated like a nanny and not a child himself. He hated being told he couldn't do things all the time because he needed to watch after his siblings.

It only took him a moment to decide that he wasn't done breaking things in his room yet. He yanked his chair with so much force that he almost popped his own arm out of place, instead… he released it and it smashed into the window. Glass shattered and scattered throughout his room. As well as outside his window, which was where his chair had, mostly, landed. Pieces of it lay scattered alongside of the glass which now littered his floor like pieces of angry snow, glistening and hoping that he'd step on it… Hoping to dye the floor crimson. He was angry, upset, sad… And as always, none of the people he needed to hear him were there to hear him. The twins where here… but they were safely away from him. He'd put them upstairs and preoccupied them with a game… It wasn't hard to, when he had Nessy to distract them with. Also, England he had placed in his crib in a room not too far away from his own room, so that he could hear him if he started crying.

That way he'd be ready to react if he did hear him start crying. That way he could, once again, put his own emotions aside and go to his baby brother's side to help him once again. As always. As was his life.

Crackling noises could be heard as Scotland walked over the glistening specks of glass on his floor, on his way to his window, examining the damage. He wasn't wearing shoes, but he honestly couldn't care less. A few cuts, a few shards of glass, in and on his foot never really bothered him… he never wore shoes, and he was a hunter. They were calloused so much already, he couldn't feel it. He would take the glass out later anyways, but… right now, he couldn't feel it.

"Mumsy is goin' ta be mad 'bout th' window…" Roth Kirkland, Scotland, says then, frowning as he stares out the window. Putting a single hand on the frame now… twitching it back only for a bit once he realizes that he cut his fingers on some of the jagged glass that still framed the window like some sort of trap. "Dammit..."

He didn't feel the blood leaving his feet through the small cuts on them. Nor did he really pay much notice to anything else at this point. Just deciding to stare out the window now… attempting to calm down, instead of staring at the blood trailing down from his sliced pointer finger. Deciding that it wasn't worth the effort anymore… and just standing there angrily. Trying valiantly, to calm down before he vented his anger in a way that he wouldn't be able to take back…

He didn't hear the sound of small feet approaching him from the doorway.

He never heard a sound from the little boy, even as he himself stepped on glass trying to reach him.

What he did notice, when he noticed anything at all, was when small arms clasped around his leg… They were trembling a little as he begins hugging him lightly, and nuzzling into his leg, before looking up at him with worry shining in his eyes. Innocent and large emerald eyes staring at his brother now as he continues to hug onto him sadly. Whining a soft "eeh" noise as he tugs on his pants lightly, shivering still... He looked… so scared.

"… I-Iggy! How did you g-get out of your crib!" The words escaped Scotland's lips in such a panic that he didn't realize he'd called the child 'Iggy,' the affectionate term of his name.

But he didn't get an answer from the child. Only… only tears. Tears rolling out of his scared little emerald eyes as he clings to his brother's pants leg, continuing to cling to him and cry softly. But the fear in his eyes, the scared appearance in his eyes, wasn't… for himself.

It was only then that Scotland realized there was blood on the little child's feet now too. The kid… had crossed the glass, not knowing what it was, and hurt himself some. "I-Iggy… ye hurt yerself… Y-Yer bleeding." With that, Scotland lifts him up carefully. Pulling him into his arms, and holding onto the boy… But despite his attempt to stroke his hair to calm him down, Iggy just struggles to turn around and face his hand… Gripping onto it carefully with his smaller ones, and licking his finger very lightly. Licking the blood off, and spitting it out… Whining "eeh"… Whining sadly, painfully… He wasn't upset with his own injury. It was…

"Lil' one… 're ye cryin' because I'm hurt?"

The question was so quietly spoken, that he wasn't even sure that he said it. But seeing those tears on that boy's cheeks… The tears the boy was crying for him made him freeze. "Yer upset because I'm injured, kiddo?" He asks softly again, lowering his head until his forehead was against the little boy's head.

The child doesn't respond. He was far too young to speak at all yet… He was far too young to stop from crying when he was upset. And… he should have been too young to not cry if he was injured. But… he had only started crying when he had seen his older brother's blood. He had only started crying when he saw that he was in pain… He had only started crying when he saw the blood on his older brother.

For a moment, silence elapsed over Scotland… Even as the child continued to whine.

"Thank ye… Thank ye, brother, thank ye." With that, Scotland begins crying softly. Tears rolling down his cheeks now… Tears rolling down faster. Crying, just full on crying now as he buried his face into his little brothers shoulder. "I'm sorry… sorry, b-brother… I love ye. I r-really do love ye."

... this was one of the only times he ever said this. This was one of the first time he cried in front of his brother. This was one of the only times… that he ever hugged his brother, cried, and said that he loved him. This was the last time… before their Mumsy died, and everything changed once again. But at this moment, at this time, he really did love his brother. And he was really… really… happy to have him there right now. Despite the fact that he hadn't chosen to raise him…

"… I'll… I'll take c-care of ye. I promise, I'll help ye. … y-ye 'ave my prayers… my hopes… I'll raise ye. I'll protect ye… 'nd I'll help ye… I'm sorry… I'm not a good big brother, I'm really not… but… I love ye. I'll try. Please… please… I love ye. Please… b-be happy. Grow up t-ta be happy… Please… grow up t-ta be loved… Please… please, I'm beggin' ye… Just… just… be… b-be happy. Someday, be happy…"

He hasn't chosen to raise him. But… he would. He would now, he had now, chosen to raise him. And… for the longest time… he tries to hold this vow to himself and his brother.

"I love ye, kiddo… I-I'm… I'm sorry. I-I'll be more careful n-next time, alright? Ye 'ave my word."