The Auld Alliance was an alliance between France and Scotland. Both France and Scotland needed a friend who didn't want England to expand.

Scotland had asked England's boss to help her pick a new king after her old king had been killed in an accident and his Norwegian heir had died before she could be crowned. England's boss had taken this chance to take over Scotland and install a puppet king.

England was always fighting with France. England decided to invade France in 1295 with the help of Scotland (and Wales).

But Scotland didn't want to fight with France and instead she allied with him.

THE AULD ALLIANCE, 1295

"Ecosse? You want to ally with me… against ton petit frere?"

"Aye. He snapped my last nerve ages ago."

"C'est chouette!" France grinned. "I can make it official this evening, if you like!"

Scotland had helped France a couple of times to rebel and invade England in the past, so France thought;

"She would be a useful ally against England!"

England was really angry about this: "Those gits!" he thought. He immediately set about attacking Scotland.

THE WARS OF SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE (ONE OF THE SEVERAL)

He took over in no time, and had control of Scotland. Her puppet king was exiled to Rome and never tried to come back, leaving her without a monarch and under the complete control of England.

After several attempts (see chapter 5) Scotland eventually got independence from England. Her new king had been kicked out of the Church after England complained to the Vatican. The Pope had agreed that Scotland was controlled by England, so she sent a letter called;

THE DECLARATION OF ARBROATH, 1320

Which Scotland is CONVINCED that it was later used as a template by America for his Declaration of Independence. Ahem. The Declaration declared that Scotland was independent and not part of England.

Moving on, the Auld Alliance was invoked several times during the 14th century, mainly during THE HUNDRED YEARS' WAR between England and France.

AGINCOURT, 1415

"Keep firing the arrows, Gwynn!" yelled England.

"Ie, ie, mrawd…" muttered Wales. "AWRON!" she yelled. "NOW!"

A cloud of arrows shot up and fell towards the French.

"Merde, merde, merde!"

A notable occasion in which French and Scottish forces actually won together was THE BATTLE OF BAUGÉ, which was the turning point of the Hundred Years' War, much to England's annoyance.

BATTLE OF BAUGÉ, 1421

"Yay! We won!" giggled France.

England lifted his head slightly off the ground, groaning. He glared through his swollen eyes. "G…Gr… You… fu…"

Scotland winked at her little brother. "Don't be a sore loser, wee one!" England flinched as she stroked his head his head, nails dragging through his hair. England gasped in pain as he felt the scratches pass over cuts.

France still was celebrating with his "We won!" session. Scotland laughed easily. Like all victories it was short and sweet.

BATTLE OF CRAVANT, 1423

"Run? I'm not running away! I didn't ally with you to run!"

"See sense, Ecosse! We've got to withdraw!" France pointed over to where England was wading through a marshy river. "There's no way we'll win this, we've got to go!"

"You go. I'll stay! I refuse to withdraw!" yelled Scotland.

"Tu baise l'idiot!" France hissed at her. "You'll all die!"

"I- what the hell are you doing! Let go!"

"You'll get captured, and then everything for you shall be over. Do you want that?"

"I'll fight to the end, with my men," replied Scotland coolly. France let go of her impatiently.

"Then do," France hissed, out of patience. "Retraite!" he yelled to his men, and one more time asked his ally. "Come with me, and we'll win, I promise. Just not today… win a battle we can win, retreat to fight again! S'il te plaît?" he begged.

"Chan eil." said Scotland firmly. "No, I won't."

Grit of teeth, hardening of resolve. "Au revoir, ma amie," said France coldly. He stalked away quickly just as the England walked out of the other side of the bog.

"Ecosse, you're alive!" The statement was one of surprise. The Scottish section of the army had been decimated.

"Aye," said Scotland wearily. "Ready to fight again, whenever."

BATTLE OF VERNEUIL, 1424

"Run, you fuckin' idiot! Run!" Scotland was cut off as she parried another sword. "God's sake, Francis, go, dammit!"

"We've been here before, Ecosse!" France knew the general etiquette of not leaving a lady to fend for herself - especially on the losing side of a battle. He'd done it once before, and really didn't want to have to do it again. "You survived… I guess I can too."

"I'm sorry! I led you into this, and it was a trap, I'm so-" stabbing and slashing "-sorry, it's my fault…but if you don't go, they'll win everything! They'll win you, you're the guy they want, not me! I'll have held them off for nothing, don't you get- fuck!" The unfortunate English soldier who had stabbed at her was dispatched. "Run…! Just get out of here, I'll stop them from-"France, turned and ran, taking the lifeline gratefully. Only once he looked back at the fray… Scotland had disappeared among the throng of Englishmen.

"Desolé…"

Scotland gave France valuable breathing space, effectively saving him from being completely overrun by her little brother. However, her army was annihilated. The "Army of Scotland" was honoured by France's boss at the time, King Charles II, who regretted the losses suffered by Scotland fighting for France.

Orléans, 1429

A horse danced about nervously. The woman on its back patted its shoulder comfortingly.

"Jeanne! Jeanne! Jeanne!"

The peasant girl smiled, her eyes light and shining. She had saved this city! Her first major victory over the English.

France smiled gently at her, lovingly. "Jeanne, you saved Orléans. Merci, ma amie."

She smiled back to him. "Merci, France."

"Thanks for saving a city of this idiot for me."

Jeanne jumped at the voice. "C'est vous!"

"Jeanne… you know her?" France said quietly in French.

"Oui… she helped me, during the fighting! Out of nowhere, from among the Scots who came… I didn't know there were other women fighters. Everyone was so… angry, I guess… when I fight…"

"Ecosse, thank you for coming to the aid of Orléans too…" said France, answering the unasked question.

"Ah!" Jeanne got it. Scotland grinned. "Couldn't help but want to see her with my own two eyes. In't that just uncanny… a saviour from amongst your commoners… everything's going to be okay now that a fighter has come to free you."

Jeanne shifted uncomfortably. Scotland's voice was turning… bitter? There was some history here, Jeanne knew it, but… what? France glared daggers at Scotland. The unspoken message was "shut up, shut up, shut up!"

His spoken words weren't as harsh. "Oui. Jeanne shall save me from Angleterre."

A rueful grin. "Save you from England, huh?"

"Ferme ta bouche!" Jeanne quickly turned around to France, shocked at the sudden mood whiplash. "It's not like how it was with you, Ecosse," France growled.

"I didn't say anything!" snapped Scotland, slightly shocked at the mood whiplash too. Jeanne meant that much to him, huh?

"France… Ecosse…?"

"Sorry, miss," said Scotland before France could apologise. "Merely some old memories of someone who was like you are to France, but for me. Didn't go so well," she added, before France could stop her. "But you'll do fine I bet."

She knelt down on one knee in front of the Jeanne's horse. "I will help you beat England up if you'll let me. I've guarded your royalty and nation before, so let me guard you."

"Merci, Ecosse!" said Jeanne, getting off the horse. "Merci!"

France looked between the two females, nation and human. The nation, still kneeling down on the one knee took Jeanne's hand and kissed it. France's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"It's my pleasure, Joan." A grin was sent towards the girl.

Le Garde Écossaise, or the Scots Guard were the lifeguards of French royalty. An elite unit, they were founded to be the personal bodyguards of the French monarchy, and it was all comprised of Scots as the title would suggest. They were disbanded in 1791

Scotland took this to mean that she had to protect France too, becoming his bodyguard on several occasions, a few of them to the annoyance of France, as she saw daggers and poison in the cutest and most innocent young ladies and gentlemen that France had an eye on. Nothing to do with jealously.

But back to the history - I-

No, dammit!

But back to the history - Scotland-

"Don't get attached. It's for your protection, Francis. She'll die one day anyway, she's not like-"

"How dare you! Just because you're one of my allies doesn't mean you can interfere in my life, Ecosse."

"I'm just saying that it'll happen sooner or later," mumbled Scotland. "And it hurts and I don't want anyone else to feel that terrible…"

France wasn't listening. "Enough, Ecosse, you're trying to help me, oui, I get that. That would be noble of you if I wanted your advice."

Harsh much? Thought Scotland.

"Leave me and Jeanne be. Protect her, please do protect her, but stay out of our feelings. You're hardly one who knows much about these matters."This was one of the things about France that Scotland hated. He was so fucking condescending when it came to her knowledge of relationships. Hell, he more condescending than England could get sometimes and that was saying something.

"Don't come crying to me, France."

It's well known what happened to France's hope. Just like what happened to Scotland's.

1548

"I said no!" said Scotland.

"Caledonia Kirkland, you promised me!" said England. He wondered what it was that made them go at each others' throats every time they met. Was it fate?

"You think I can't see a takeover bid when I see one?" snapped Scotland. "I said no. Can't you get that into your head? You're going to war over nothing!"

"Him," stated England, tone conveying everything that wasn't said.

"…What's wrong with Francis?"

England scoffed at her. "Come now. You know as well as I do what is wrong with the frog."

"Arthur, our royal families are all mixed up as it is just now. The bairn's grandfather married one of your lot anyway, that's only three generations back! Or don't you remember?"

"I'm not talking about… James the… the…"

"IV. James IV. Wee Mary's grandfather." Scotland nearly got mixed up between all the kings named James too, but she would never admit that, especially to England.

"Blast it, all the James's just come one after the other - how am I supposed to remember which one's which - anyway, that's not the bloody point. When you renewed the alliance between yourself and the frog with that match between your current king and that Frenchwoman, I was perturbed, yet I thought you would be reasonable about any offspring there would be."

"Away wie you, you thought no such thing."

"The child shall marry Edward!" yelled England. "They're fucking betrothed already! You promised!"

Edward was the heir to the English throne. Scotland had promised her heir to be married to him because she had been in a bad position then back when the treaty was signed.

"You invaded! It's an outrage! I said no, mean no, Francis is gettin' the bairn! To think I was thinking about following the treaty through for some time there. Then you decided to just go to war over it. It's your own fault that I-"

"Treaties are made to be followed! Where is she?"

Scotland grinned. She'd stalled long enough for the ship to sail. "Francis's house. I was about to say, it's your own fault I went to Francis's ambassador for help."

"Oh for the love of-"

Years passed. Mary was over in France's house, getting educated and was going to be married to Francis's Dauphin, the heir to the French throne. So technically, Mary was the Scottish Queen (she'd been crowned when she was nine months old) was going to be the French Queen when she married the Dauphin and when his father died…

…and also, some regarded her as the rightful Queen of England, which pissed off Arthur and his Queen Elizabeth.

"…Excuse me," said a voice that could only belong to royalty. Scotland turned around to see the boat which had docked. The hell? Who was- oh dear.

"W-what the- I mean, your majesty. It's an honour to see you once again. I hope your time in Franci- France was nice?

""Lovely… I think some dates have been mixed…"

Poor queen. First time she'd come home in years and nobody was there to greet her. The dates got mixed up and instead of crowds she got a few people.

"Awfully sorry about that your majesty." Scotland hit herself mentally for sounding so much like that wee twit England.

"You're… like him, aren't you?" said the Queen. "Like Sir Bonnefoy…"

"…He told you about that, then… your majesty."

"Yes."

"Yes, I am."

She was executed too, later, in England. That happens a lot, no?

Scotland threw away the pen and smacked her forehead.

"This is going nowhere dammit! Memoirs are so fucking hard when you're a fucking country! I keep just remembering things that I can't put into words! Everything's all over the place! Missing out everything!" She sighed and glared at the fire. "I… think I'll write more… later…"

Stuff that's not just about France.