Chapter one

England sighed as he rubbed at his head. He was not at all happy with the way things were turning out right now. There were protests all over the place and the unhappy mood of his people was not helping the tiredness that remained after the economy had decided to crash and burn. He sighed again as he sank into his chair in the meeting hall, not really caring all that much about being there, but knowing he had to attend anyway. He cringed as America burst the doors open and announced his presence,

"The Hero has arrived!" he yelled happily, bounding through the room to his seat, grinning at England as he passed. Germany glared at the younger country,

"There is no need to break the doors America!" he snapped, "Now take your seat so we can get this meeting started!" It did not take long for the usual petty squabbles to start up and England buried his head in his arms in an attempt to block them out. France, however, was feeling in one of his amorous moods and decided to ruin England's plans to catch a quick nap before Germany took control once again. Just as he had placed a hand on England's shoulder to wake him, the doors burst open again. The meeting hall immediately hushed as a tall and wiry young man, wearing what appeared to be a tartan skirt stormed into the room. France looked up and raised an enquiring eyebrow at him,

"Ah, L'Eccose," he noted, "What are you doing here?" he asked. Scotland merely nodded at France, his face remaining perfectly calm until he got behind England,

"Get up you fucking twat!"he snapped visciously, smacking the younger nation over the head with his hand. France wisely chose to back off, if his 'little bunny' had done something to upset the far older country, then it was best not to get involved. England jumped up in surprise but once his initial shock had worn off he glared at his older brother,

"What in the blazes are you doing here?" he demanded, trying to remain at least semi-civil for the moment. If England's glare was acidic, it was nothing to the look Scotland shot him,

"What am I doing here?" he asked quietly. He looked to France and chuckled darkly, "The wee one wants to ken whit I'm daein' here." He turned back to England, grabbed the front of his coat and pulled the other nation to his face, "I could ask you the same thing wee one." He snarled, "Mind telling me why the fuck ye've got a load of tanks makin' their merry wee way up to ma border?" England blinked, confused,

"Tanks? At the border?" he asked, perplexed. Scotland's expression darkened further,

"Dinnae play dumb wi' me England." He snarled, "Ye ken fine well that doesnae tend tae end well." He said, his voice quiet but commanding silence from everyone else in the room all the same. England started to stutter nervously before swallowing thickly and managing to reply in a somewhat even voice,

"Scotland, put me down." He said firmly, "I have no idea what the bloody hell you're going on about and I would appreciate it if you explained exactly what you meant." Scotland scowled and dropped his brother to the floor,

"Fine ye're down." He snapped, grabbing the chair France had been sitting in and turning it around so he was straddling it. England huffed as he picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off,

"You didn't answer my question." He reminded his brother, whose expression had darkened again. It was at this point that Russia piped up happily,

"But comrade England, Scotland has already explained the situation da?" he quipped pleasantly, enjoying the dark aura that the Scotsman was giving off. Scotland glanced up at Russia,

"Thank ye Russia, I wis aboot to say the same bloody thing." Dark green eyes met with brighter green once again, still glaring daggers. England frowned, more in confusion than anything else,

"I have no idea what to say to this nonsense other than it appears to be news to me." He replied as calmly as he could manage. Scotland continued glaring at his brother,

"Oh I can assure ye that it's no nonsense." He said quietly. He motioned over to Prussia, who was sitting lazily in the corner of the room playing with the remote for the large TV the nations used in case of an emergency,

"Gil, the remote please." He said, indicating that it was not in any way a request. The ex-nation complied immediately, sliding the device across the conference table. Scotland snatched it up and turned the TV on, turning it to BBC news 24:

"And now to the breaking news story that just came in a few moments ago." The reporter droned, "The Prime Minister has asked the MOD to send in military troops to quell the violent protests that have been taking place in Edinburgh and Glasgow during the past week. We have just received word that the Minister of Defence has agreed to send at least two battalions to the Scottish cities in order to take control of the situation..." The room was deathly quiet when Scotland turned the TV to mute and turned to England once again. The younger nation stared at the TV in shock,

"But..." he started, "Bloody hell, they can't do that!" he yelled, "It goes completely against the Acts of Union!" Scotland raised a rather large eyebrow at England's outburst,

"So this really is news to ye then?" he asked quietly. England glared at his brother,

"That's what I've been telling you, you bloody idiot!" England snapped, bringing out his mobile phone, "I might as well call the Prime Minister to ask what the bloody hell he's playing at." He groused, punching in the number a little more viciously than normal. The room remained quiet, interested in seeing what was going to happen now. It was not often than Nations disagreed with their bosses like this, and it was always pretty interesting to watch when it did, it was rather like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. Scotland continued scowling as England waited on someone picking up the phone as France laid a cautious hand on his shoulder,

"My dear Eccose," he whispered, "Surely this is all just some misunderstanding." Scotland's scowl softened as he looked to France and gently batted the hand off his shoulder,

"Well if it is, I'm expectin' a full bloody apology and a resignation at the very least." He growled. His attention was returned to his brother, who had evidently managed to get through at long last;

"Hello, this is Sir Kirkland speaking," he said formally, "I'd like to have a word with the Prime Minister if he's available." He went quiet as the person on the other end started speaking. His face contorted into a scowl after a moment, "Well I'd say my call ranked a little higher than some budget reports..." the scowl deepened, "Now listen here!" he snapped, "This is not a request, young lady. I demand to speak to the Prime Minister, or at least his Deputy!" He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it in a mixture of amazement and absolute disgust. Scotland's eyebrows practically disappeared into his fringe, sending England a questioning look. The younger country, huffed as he flipped the phone closed,

"The little ingrate hung up on me." He explained after a moment. He seemed to think for a moment while Scotland voiced his great displeasure,

"The bloody fuckin' idiot!" he yelled, "When I get ma hands on him..." England cut him off with a well placed look,

"Scotland, please, that will not help matters." He sighed and looked at the phone with a dawning look of realisation, "Well, if that's how the little fascist wants to play it..." he muttered, punching in another number and putting the speakerphone on and placing the mobile on the conference table. America looked on in confusion,

"England, you can't go any higher than your boss, so who are you calling?" he asked. Scotland seemed to get exactly what his brother was doing,

"England, I hate tae admit, but ye're a genius." He said, a smirk lighting up his face. England rolled his eyes somewhat dismissively and was about to reply when the phone was picked up on the other end:

"Hello, this is the Royal Communications Office." A voice addressed smartly. England smiled as he replied,

"Ah, hello there Steven," England greeted, "It's Arthur here. May I ask if Her Majesty is at home?" he asked. The voice on the other end replied happily,

"Oh Sir Kirkland!" it exclaimed, "I was wondering when you or your brother would call through." It chuckled, "Give me a moment while I patch you through, Her Highness has been expecting your call." England raised an eyebrow at that but Scotland leaned back in his seat, finally seeming to relax. After a few moments of silence a small but commanding voice could be heard on the other end of the phone,

"Arthur," it exclaimed, "I was wondering when you'd hear about the news." England smiled but was a little confused,

"Ma'am?" he enquired, making sure that his Queen was on the same page he was. The Queen chuckled a little,

"The news sir Kirkland, the breaking report that's just interrupted all BBC channels at the moment." She explained. England smiled again as he nodded,

"Ah that news, I just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing." He explained, "And yes I did hear about it eventually... through my brother barging into the middle of the world conference, demanding to know why his border was being invaded all of a sudden." The Queen sounded vaguely surprised,

"Oh so Sir Stewart is there as well is he?" she asked. Scotland sat up more smartly,

"Aye yer Majesty." He replied. The Queen went quiet for a moment before replying,

"My most sincere apologies for this, the House of Lords is rather up in arms about it, not to mention the Scottish Parliament. "

"Yeah I'll bet." Scotland muttered quietly enough that it wouldn't be picked up by the speaker phone. The Queen continued,

"I am currently trying my best to get through to the Prime Minister to try and resolve the issue, but it seems my calls are being disregarded." Scotland and England shared a shocked look,

"Ma'am?" England asked, "how long have you been trying to contact the Prime Minister?" he asked, dreading the answer he knew he was going to get. The Queen snorted,

"Since the moment the news broke Sir Kirkland." She replied. England groaned. Scotland scowled but then seemed to think of something. He stood up and leaned on the conference table,

"Yer Majesty, with all due respect, if the Prime Minister is ignoring your summons then I really don't feel I have ony choice." He bit his lip nervously, while England looked on in curisousity, "With yer permission I'd like to assemble the Black Watch at the Scottish border to engage the troops marching up to invade my land." The Queen replied immediately,

"Permission most expressly granted Sir Stewart. What the Prime Minister is doing is nothing short of invasion." She agreed, "You also have my permission to assemble what regiments you have left under your own command to join them under the banner of the Scottish Royal Standard." She added. Scotland looked taken aback by the suggestion. France stood as well, looking rather determined for once,

"If I may make a suggestion." He said, looking to Scotland. Scotland looked back at his best friend,

"I believe, Ma'am, that Mr Bonnefoy would like to speak with you." He sent his ally a confused look as the Queen agreed to speak with the French nation,

"Your Royal Highness, I would also like to offer my support to Eccose." He said, "If I can convince my President to honour the Alliance that we 'ave shared for many centuries I would like your permission to send what troops I can offer." Everyone stared at France, utterly amazed that he would even want to get involved. The Queen seemed to think this over for a few moments,

"If you can convince your President Monsieur Bonnefoy, then you have my permission to send a small battalion." She agreed, "As fierce as the Black Watch is, it may not be quite enough if the supposed leader of Parliament is sending two whole battalions of very well trained British soldiers." France grinned as he bowed to the phone,

"Then I shall contact 'im straight away. Merci your majesty." He said as he bowed again and swept off out of the room, taking his phone out of his pocket. England, Scotland and the rest of the nations of the world stared after him, too shocked to even comment. England's attention was brought back to the matter at hand as the Queen addressed him,

"Arthur? I do hope that you're alright with this, but we are facing a rather unprecedented situation." England smiled bitterly and shook his head,

"I've survived worse." He reminded his monarch, "I will continue trying to get through to The Prime Minister for now and if I cannot get through to him before this all kicks off then we'll just have to try something else." The Queen sighed,

"Thank you Arthur," she said, sounding wearied, "I had best attend to the matter at hand myself; no doubt I've got a lot of MPs that are clamouring for me to forcibly dissolve Parliament after this fiasco." England bowed to the phone,

"Of course Ma'am, I do wish you the best of luck." There was a quiet laugh on the other end,

"It's not me that needs it Sir Kirkland." She reminded her nation, "Good day to you." She added as she hung up. England sighed as he picked up the mobile phone again and terminated the connection on his end; he was not looking forward to this one bit. America, who had amazingly remained quiet during the whole conversation decided now would be a good time to speak up,

"Dude, the Queen can forcibly dissolve Parliament?" he asked, not entirely sure whether to be amazed or disgusted. The British Commonwealth nations that were present glared at him while England laughed tiredly,

"Oh yes, it's not something we've had to use in Britain before, but the Queen does reserve certain powers in case something like," he waved a hand at the TV '... this happens." He finished lamely. Scotland had continued to stare at the door that France had practically flounced out of before shaking his head and turning to America,

"I ken ye dinnae like the idea of monarchy son, but ye have to admit, it's come in useful right about now." America sighed, still not sure what to make of the whole thing as Italy spoke up,

"Ve, I'm confused," he said, "If this whole thing is just to do with your boss, then why is big brother France getting involved?" he asked. Scotland shook his head, going back to staring at the door to the conference room uncertainly as England answered for him,

"Probably wants to honour the 'Auld Alliance'." He snorted, "Bloody sentimental git." He added. Scotland shook his head again,

"Honest to God, he chooses now?" he asked with a sigh "No' that I'm complainin' like but..." he trailed off as France swept back into the room, looking rather pleased with himself,

"It is all settled then." He said, taking his seat back and looking up at Scotland, "The French President 'as agreed to send a small section of troops to 'elp." He tossed the hair out of his face as he continued, "I of course will be joining them..." at this point Scotland cut the blonde off,

"Oh no ye're not." He told him firmly, "It's bad enough ye want to be involved in the first place Francis, but I'm no haein' ye come over over a silly wee skirmish like this." France chuckled as he got up and hugged the Scottish nation,

"But mon amour, what the Prime Minister 'as done is basically an act of war non?" Scotland sighed as he debated whether it was worth shoving the other nation away, decided it wasn't and leaned into the hug instead,

"Aye, I guess ye're right." He muttered into the French man's coat. France smiled softly as England mimed being sick. When America sent him a questioning look, not wanting to interrupt the two hugging nations, England sighed and decided to do it for him,

"The 'Auld Alliance'", he said, "Europe's longest running and soppiest love affair." He scowled at the two nations as Scotland chuckled, lifting his head off France's chest to look at him,

"Jealousy doesnae suit ye England." He quipped, earning him a hot glare from the younger nation,

"I am not jealous!" he snapped, but before anyone else could comment Germany had decided to take charge once more,

"All right, this meeting is adjourned for today." He stated, "We're not going to get anything done if half of you are not even going to be here for the rest of the day." The German man sighed as he started to gather his notes, muttering to himself in German while Italy followed after him worriedly. The rest of the nations all looked first at England, Scotland and France, at Germany then finally at each other, shrugged and started to file out of the conference room, muttering amongst themselves. This was going to be an interesting week.