Remember in chapter 5 when I said Alistair would be appearing in a couple of chapters? 31 chapters later; here he is!
Note; Alistair swears a lot, to the point it doesn't usually mean anything.
Also, he uses obscure slang and expletives from all over Britain, and not necessarily Scottish. I've put a "Just so you know" after most weird words. Please note that some of this jargon is very obscure and only used in specific small areas in Britain. Using these words outside of these areas may lead to confusion, or in some cases offence.
"Privyet," Nikolai greets warmly. Seamus slinks back into the kitchen.
"The fuck are you?" Alistair, representative of Scotland, asks shortly.
"Russia," Nikolai answers.
Alistair frowns. "I remembered you being paler. White as the British government you were, hair and all."
"You say that as if we've met many times."
"True," Alistair pulls a face, and pulls a cigarette and a zippo from the pocket of his shirt, "Now, why the fuck have the fae folk been flipping their shit about an overload of magic in Germany?"
"Yes, that was me," Nikolai admits merrily, "I've just been raising the dead. Typical day at the office."
Alistair stares at him. "Who're you resurrecting, like?"
"Svetla," Nikolai answers. "Aside from that; Liechtenstein, Switzerland, a few others- I lose track. Canada is much better at remembering these things than I am."
"Our Mata's a good lad," Alistair nods, then peers at Svetla as Nikolai points her out. The military soldiers and Al have slunk into the kitchen to hide. "You've done a shit job reviving her; she's still dead."
"Yes, I am debating not resurrecting her."
"Why's she died in the first place?"
"She was attacking myself and my family. You're an older brother; you'd have done the same."
"Killed her clean-like, didn't you?" Alistair comments, brushing the pad of a finger over the wound, cigarette hanging lazily from her mouth.
"I can't actually take the credit," Nikolai admits, "That was Lo- North Italy."
"I thought Lovino was the South?" Alistair frowns.
Nikolai pauses, faltering slightly. "May I ask you a question?"
"You just did, ye' silly cunt."
"Then another. Why are you here? You could have stayed in Scotland, not worried."
"'Cause I had our Flying Mint Bunny come twittering about Sean and Erin and Artie and some sort of magic and blood and hands and hearts and I don't even fucking know. And, while my siblings might be a bunch of little shits, they're my little shits. I've raised the bastards, I've fought the bastards, I've fought for the bastards, and I'll be fucked with a pike afore I let some Eastern wufter hurt them." So you know, a 'wufter' is a gay male prostitute.
"You know, I much prefer your counterpart," Nikolai says bluntly, "He's much quieter."
"Tough shit. If you want quiet, I'll be taking my siblings and be off."
"They're not your family anymore."
"The fuck d'you mean?"
"They're my family now."
Alistair stares at him, slack-jawed. "No, that's not how 'family' works. You can't just take someone's family away from them, that just don't fucking work."
"Well, that's what I did. I took England, both Irelands, and both North Americans. And France."
Alistair's expression melts from confused to angry. "What do you mean 'took'."
"They all joined me," Nikolai smirks with victory, "They are all part of my family now. Matt is in the Journal Room, Al is in the kitchen, Rhiona is upstairs, Seamus is in the basement, and Oliver and François are either in the kitchen or one of the spare bedrooms."
"I don't who half those fuckers are," Alistair says bluntly, "Now if you're not going to be of any fucking help or interest to me, I'll be rounding up the relatives and pissing off, aye?"
"Good luck," Nikolai says plainly.
Alistair storms past him, barreling into his shoulder as he goes. He stops in the hallway, staring at the stairs. Rhiona stands there, hair at least twice the length of Erin's, clothes too feminine, face too freckled, frame too bony.
"The fuck has happened to you?" Alistair asks quietly.
Rhiona doesn't answer. She stands, expression torn between fear and pain.
"Go round up the rest of us family, my jo," Alistair tells her gently before turning to Nikolai and screaming full in his face; "The fuck have you done to my wee sister, you greedy bear-wanking devil?!"
Rhiona slinks past him, heading to the basement stairs.
"Rhiona, where do you think you're going?" Nikolai asks shortly.
"Which fodger-fuck d'you say was in the basement?" Alistair growls. So you know, a 'fodger' is a foreigner.
"Seamus," Nikolai answers, "North Ireland, as you know him."
A growl begins to rumble in the back of Alistair's throat. "Are you fetching Seamus, my jo?" So you know, 'jo' is a pet name, like 'dear' or 'love'.
Rhiona nods, and Nikolai's expression warps into anger. Alistair laughs directly in his face.
"I'm her actual brother. You were just a replacement," Alistair says, blowing sweet cigarette smoke into Nikolai's face as he speaks, "And a shit one at that; I'm almost pissed."
Nikolai shoves past Alistair, grabbing Rhiona by the hair and throwing her into an armchair, ignoring her yell of pain. The ends of his scarf fold around Alistair's chest as the Scot tries to intervene, the wool holding him back. Rhiona struggles against Nikolai, the Russian pinning her by twisting her arm.
The room falls silent at a sickening crunch. Nikolai lets go of Rhiona as she snatches her broken arm, cradling it to her chest.
Alistair backs away, the scarf unravelling from his torso, hands above his head in surrender, face shocked, worried and a little afraid. His cigarette has fallen from his mouth and he stamps out the small fire the ash has created. "There was no need for that, cock." So you know, 'cock' isn't meant as an insult but is used to refer to male friends. So are 'mate' and 'cocker'.
"I don't care," Nikolai spits.
"Just let my little sister go, this is between you and me, sir."
"Let me think," Nikolai says sarcastically, "No." He turns back to Rhiona, "You're not going to try to disobey your Big Brother Kolja like that again, are you?"
Rhiona shakes her head quickly.
"She's coming with me," Alistair says firmly, "And so are the rest of them; they aren't stay with a violent fuck like you."
"What the fuck made you think that was a sensible thing to say in this situation?" Nikolai asks plainly, one end of his scarf wrapping around the wrist of Rhiona's broken arm and pulling it up above her head.
"Y- you're hurting her!" Alistair splutters, "What kind of Big Brother… whatever-the-fuck-you-said are you if you hurt your wanking little siblings?!"
"I don't like her disloyalty," Nikolai says plainly, "I've never known you to be like this, Rhiona. I am so disappointed in you."
"Loyalty? What the fuck? That's not a family, this sounds to me like fascism. You're just a bit shit at this whole 'family' thing, aren't you?"
Nikolai ignores him, taking Rhiona's broken arm by the wrist and the elbow. With a quick pain-removing charm, he pulls the bone back into place.
"And now we may talk like adults," Nikolai says plainly. "Would you like a seat?" he gestures to the couch, bloody and partially taken by Svetla's corpse.
"I'm alright, Alistair says plainly.
Mata; Gaelic diminutive of Matthew
Kolja; (sometimes written Kolya) diminutive of Nikolai
I own nothing
-Laurel Silver