Here's the second chapter, I hope you'll like it! :)

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This is a rather peculiar and unusual fanfiction because all the characters' thoughts and the dialogues between Scotland and England are short parts taken from various songs by different artists.

Therefore, the whole fanfic, except the linking sentences, the historical facts and other characters' words, is a composition of pieces from different songs.

On the other hand, I wanted it to be as historically accurate as possible, as a matter of fact, the places, the facts, the characters and their words are rather trustworthy.

It took me a lot of months to choose each sentence from all those songs!

The quotes are taken from songs by several artists, among which:

Vic Mignogna, Red, Taylor Swift, One Republic, Nine Lashes, Tiziano Ferro, Fall Out Boy, The Afters, Breaking Benjamin, The Skillet, The Three Days Grace, Nickelback, The Evanescence, Bring me the Horizon, Imagine Dragons, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Mumford and Sons, Sleeping at Last, The Rasmus, Hozier,...

I am really curious to know what your favourite lines are!


The king has complete confidence in victory over Scotland, however, it is my firm belief that this won't develop as easily as he foresees. There won't be a winner between us since it's going to be a never-ending war which will rust and pursue for so long that both our countries will be shattered.

I don't wanna fight a war that no one's gonna win...we must be the change we wish to see because it no longer matters who was right or wrong...

On 17th June, 1314, our army begins its advance into Scotland, accompanied by flocks of sheep and cattle to provide rations, and carts carrying the baggage of the soldiers and the fodder required for the horses. Edward II has ordered to march to Edinburgh and take the old Roman road to Stirling, and on Sunday 23rd June we started our final march up to the Bannockburn.

And indeed that's where I finally see you, Scotland, wearing your saffron-colored tunic, beside Robert the Bruce. I feel it descending now: the place that I run or what I run from, the boundary begins to fade and suddenly I perceive your gaze focused upon me.

What if I let you win? What if I want to try? What if you take a chance?

Beneath the stains of time the feelings vanish, you are someone else, I am still right here. I should have seen those signs all around me, but I was comfortable inside these wounds, go ahead and take another piece of me. So we're bound to linger on, then love until we bleed...

Robert the Bruce assembled his army of Scottish foot soldiers into four Schiltrons commanded by himself, James Douglas, Thomas Randolph Earl of Moray, and his brother Edward the Bruce.

On the other hand, king Edward II formed the English army in ten divisions, each led by a noble or a knight.

I venture to say that Bruce's method doesn't lack wit: it is to form with each schiltron a bristling mass of spears, which he doesn't expect our soldiers to be able to penetrate. Furthermore, on the ground there are hidden pits along the bank of the Bannockburn, I suppose the Scots did that to dissolve any mounted charge against them.

De Mowbray, the Governor of Stirling Castle, approaches Edward II and I hear them converse: it seems that the man is trying to persuade the king to give up the battle because of his grave reservations as to the outcome. However, to the King and the knights it's evident that our army will tear apart the Scots, as a matter of fact, they will withdraw, even just in view of the huge disparity in numbers of the armies.
Why must we fall apart to understand how to fly?

It is at this point that Sir de Bohun gallops ahead and pounces on the Scots King to challenge him to duel. Too rush and brazen. The contrast in their equipment is stark; notwithstanding, the sinewy Scotsman evades de Bohun's lance and instead, strikes him a deadly blow with his ax. De Bohun falls dead. I can feel you smirking in triumph, Scotland. Are you pleased, brother?

I can't undo the things that led us to this, but I know there's something more to us than our mistakes; so is it you or is it me? I know I'm so blind when we don't agree.

It only hurts me to be near you. I'm not ready to let go because then I'd never know what I could be missing. I will run and hide till memories fade away...

Edward II hasn't been painstaking enough in establishing the army: the cavalry is too heavy and there aren't enough archers. A truculent melee ensues. Without archers we are bound, the cavalry is unable to get through the dense thicket of Scotland' spear men.

Scotland has won the first day. The king is enraged, he abhors the idea of losing, he keeps on yelling and stimulating the soldiers, the nobles and knights are incredulous, and all I can see is your red hair, your sneer and your feral look as you stab my own people to death, watching their blood emerge through their clothes. These tears I cry are falling rain for all the lies you told me, the hurt the blame.


Thanks for reading! :)

I'd really appreciate if you left me a comment ;)