Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.
Pairing: (Not really a pairing)
Rating: T
Genre: ?
Disclaimer: England and Scotland belong to Europe, Arthur Kirkland belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland, and I gave him this name) belongs to a user in pixiv.
Note: I will refrain from using Scotland's accent this time for good reasons.
_
It was a stormy night in Edinburgh and Alasdair couldn't sleep. He would just toss from one side to another until he finally decided that it was no longer a use trying to find some sleep. But what was a sleepless night compared to a lifetime of a nation.
However, he got up from his bed, wrapped his plaid around his shoulders and made his way to his desk. He felt like writing something down that was lingering on his mind.
Maybe it would then become easier to find sleep. Also it would definitely help him ease his mind, with or without sleep. He bet it was going to be such a long letter to write that by the time he'd finish, it was bright daylight outside.
He sat down on the old oak desk with the soft chair that surely invited to sit on for long writing sessions. Why not? He was an old nation. He had seen a lot of things.
This time it was hardly about William Wallace what kept him awake, he took a note in his thoughts as he lit a candle and sharpened the quill he wanted to write with.
The redhead took out the note block of paper and placed it in front of him, ready to be written on. He looked at the blank piece of paper for a while, before he made up his mind what words to use, who to direct it to.
Maybe this letter would never go to the person it was directed to.
It didn't matter. He dabbed the quill into the ink container, wiped it onto the edge of the glass container and wanted to start writing. But wait. …He made a few writing tests on a separate sheet of paper. After sharpening the quill, this was a necessity.
Okay, now was the time. Now the words practically pressed through the redhead's skull and onto the paper.
Dear Arthur, I don't know if this letter will ever reach you. It possibly won't, but that is not the point. You know we have been brothers for a quite long time. Still I don't know if it is an honour or a plague.
Okay, that sounded a bit lame. But what to do? He had enough experience to know that the best letters had bad beginnings.
Let's get back to the start. I still remember the day I actually met you. I don't know what is your first memory of you meeting me. If a nation can remember so far back, that is. As for me, I still remember what a small bundle you were in the arms of our mother. She told me to take good care of you and protect you no matter what, even before I could get a glimpse of you, before I knew you were a sister or a brother.
Then I saw your tiny face, the streaks of blond hair peeping from underneath the bundle you were wrapped into. I have seen Eire and Cymru as babies before, but they had been older already when I met them first, while you could not even open your eyes. I was rather confused at first, but you just resembled so much a little rabbit that had just been born. Humans usually are born so that they are able to open their eyes soon, unlike smaller animals.
Well, now I am digressing. What do I know about animals? Arthur knows probably more about rabbits anyway.
Alasdair was sure that Arthur must be some type of rabbit.
You were small, cute and warm. I loved taking care of you even when it meant a whole bunch of work, because you often cried. From today's sight I would say you often just felt lonely, you were so scared to be left alone.
Now he was getting thirsty as he felt that this letter was going to turn out to be a novel. So he just got up and went to get himself a glass of water.
Getting back at the 'letter' he made sure to set the glass just so it would, by no chance soak the paper.
Then you learnt to talk. Your first word was 'Idiot' or something like that. At first I thought you didn't know what you were saying, so I forgave you and just kept going caring for you, trying to make you feel comfortable. Then I realised that you indeed meant what you were saying. … You knew what you had been saying. Anyway, I tried to make the best out of you, make you skilled in hunting, riding, fighting with sword and bow. Unfortunately I could never teach you how to swim, but you were and still are excellent with the bow.
I am not writing this because I ask you to excuse yourself for all these times. I just want to gather my thoughts on you as we walk on this world together. I was never sure if you truly hated me or whatever was wrong. Were brothers meant to be like this? As soon as you learnt how to speak you asked me why I didn't take care of you as much… That was probably also when I started to make a man out of you. Because for sure you were a nation of your own. You were England, not a province of Scotland which had to be under my wing. So I had to take you under my wing as long as I could.
My training with you was harsh, I admit. It often left you bruised and with sore muscles for the night. In the beginning it broke my heart, you have no idea. Since it doesn't matter anymore, I can tell you that now.
Maybe a bit too good with it. It became a serious plague in the hundred year's war that soon followed. Well, you and your king invaded my lands a little before that hundred year's war you had with France, but I count it together.
I had this Alliance with France as you might remember. I always sensed how you hated that Alliance, not only because it was against you but also because France and I were so close…
You still hate it, no matter what anyone will say.
However, things became worse between us. I still have nightmares from how your king killed William Wallace in 1305, and I still have nightmares from how your people killed Jeanne D'arc. I had been responsible for her safety.
At some extent, Francis even believed that I gave her to you as a gift…
Alasdair stopped writing again. It all felt like he wrote it too light hearted even though his font showed a different picture. The individual letters became almost like arrows, like knives hacking into each other.
The green eyes went to the flame of the candle that was now moving unsteady under his breath.
Now so many centuries have passed ever since then. A lot of things have changed. You have gained your own experiences as you finally left your eyes from France and my lands. You had found your own little brother. It doesn't matter that you are not related by blood, you took him in and I'm glad that you got tamed a little by that. Maybe then you found your inner peace.
You go on about Alfred with almost fatherly care.
I don't dare to question it. One does not wake sleeping lions.
I also got children of my own, a lovely daughter and a son. At least this is what I see in them. I am too old to get new little brothers. I hope you don't mind me not seeing a brother in little Alfred.
Suddenly, the wind rattles on the window and the redhead gets a little alerted. He gets up one more time to have a look. But it's obviously just a branch wiggling its reminding finger that it is early spring and that it needs to be cut off. Hah. No wonder the redhead gets sleepless nights with an annoying branch like that.
Hoping for no further distractions, he gets back at the letter he now gets more content with.
Peace cannot last forever with you. Even with a lad on your side, you are still the jealous lonely brat that you used to be. With Elisabeth (the first) on your side, you decide that Mary Stuart is a thorn in your flesh and chase her down. We have to flee and live in France. Not that I mind that. I liked living with Francis and our children Matha and Mhairi. But even dreams cannot last forever. Kings change, times change… eventually, the famines struck me down enough to get into your capture and make myself a prisoner of you. You forced me to kiss your Queen's feet and sign the contract… the Act of Union. The worst thing that there could be. What I also hated was when you cut me off from talking to Francis in any way. You let me do farm work for not much more than stale bread and water a day. Why do you keep thinking that we Scottish are like fat work horses? We are humans with feelings! Our blood is just as red as yours and we also cry when shit happens too much! I can't even deny the delight I felt when news got around how America finally got fed up with you and you lost him as a colony. I can't forget the day you came home after a long trip, still wearing worn out red uniform which was unusually and heavy bags underneath your eyes. Matha was with you, telling me not to say anything although I could have told you something as long as this letter is going to be!
Then I also had to change. The great reformation came in which I took on the same confession that you have – Protestantism. Furthermore, the Auld Alliance is scratched from the official side. Were you happy then?
With James VI., Mary's son, a new era came to life. An era I actually enjoyed a lot, because for once I was the ruling nation in the United Kingdom. I could decide over my younger siblings in a completely legal way. You were still mad at me, but what can I say? I left you your business in the new world, I left you your little puppy to play with.
You of all the people had no reason to be mad at me.
At the same time, you legalised how the English could hunt down Scotsmen for they were at the same level as savage animals. When have I ever been this worse to you? I mean… okay, we had our fights. Our people fought each other. But what you did back then was uncalled for! Your tied my hands and let me watch how my people were slaughtered!
Sometimes life is just funny how it works, right?
Now it has not been long since the Revolution in France. I am worried for him, but you won't let me go and get him or even use Pierre to contact him. Oh how I'd wish to know if he's alright…
You know how much I love and miss him. It has been now almost 100 years ever since you cut us off. How can you be so cold hearted? When the pain in your heart was greatest, no one listened to that – you think.
But just because you are too stubborn to let someone in your heart, do you need to be the villain of the world?
Just let me go to France!...
The Scotsman heard the first birds chirping through the loosely closed window. The window was in a bad shape, it didn't hold off the chilly winds of winter, though the winter here in London was nowhere as harsh as in the Scottish Highlands.
It was time to get at least an hour of sleep.
Alasdair picked up the paper and crumbled it, making a ball into his hand.
Arthur would never get to read it.
"I always loved you, brother…"