Chapter two
Scotland sighed as he adjusted the hat currently perched on his head. He and France had both travelled back to Scotland's house via the routes countries often used to visit with one another and had already told the First Minister about the permission the Queen herself had given to Scotland. Things had quickly escalated from there, with Westminster insisting that the Scottish Parliament was well out of order and demanding them to tell the Black Watch to stand down. To which Scotland had replied with a rather hearty "fuck off". France watched his best friend pace around the room,
"L'Eccose, everything will be fine." He cooed in assurance, trying to calm his best friend down. Scotland stopped pacing and looked to Francis. He sighed again,
"I'm just a wee bit worried is all France." He admitted, "Now the bigwigs in London ken whit we're daein' they'll probably send up even mair troops." The red-head then resumed his pacing as he tried to work out how his troops and France's battalion were going to stand against the majority of the British Army. France snorted,
"I am more concerned about the fact that the Prime Minister has convinced the Army to attack your border." He mused, swilling the wine in his glass thoughtfully, "I thought the British Armed forces swore allegiance to the Queen." Scotland chuckled dryly,
"Aye, they do, but whitever the PM's told them has got at least the ones at the top convinced this is a guid idea." He stopped pacing and leaned on the windowsill instead, "Been a guid long while since we've had tae fight like this." He mused, "I'm gettin' far too auld fer it." France joined him and gazed at his best friend. He did indeed look rather wearied,
"'Opefully we can get this sorted out with minimal casualties." He said, "The last either of you need is to spend the next few centuries at each other's throats again." Scotland shook his head,
"That'll no happen now," he replied tiredly, "fer once the wee one is on my side, but how he plans to help..." he trailed off, glancing at the clock on the far wall. They still had another hour at least before they had to move out. France smiled,
"I am sure he 'as a plan of sorts. After all, this is Angleterre we are talking about."
"Anyone have any bright ideas?" England asked as he looked at the "riot" behind held back from Downing Street. He had been trying to get to the front door of Number 10 for the last hour and had ended up getting caught in the police kettle along with the protestors. Wales looked at his brother impassively,
"Told you we should have tried going in the window at the back." He muttered, leaning against a lamp post. England glared at him,
"And end up thrown into a jail cell? No thanks." Wales raised an eyebrow at that,
"The way this is going we're going to end up in one anyway." He pointed out. England hummed a little in irritation at that,
"Well, we will if this lot decide to kick off." He replied, "Which doesn't look as though it'll be happening any time soon." He added, sounding almost disappointed. Ireland laughed,
"Is that that old Anarchist coming out in ye?" he asked, "Well if it's a riot ye want..." the older nation quickly scaled the nearest lamppost and pulled a small megaphone out of his pocket. England stared at him for a moment,
"Where the hell did he get that and what the bloody hell is he playing at?" he asked his twin. Wales looked up at Ireland and shrugged,
"Probably going to show this lot what a proper protest should be like more than likely." England groaned,
"Great so now we are going to end up in a jail cell." He muttered as Ireland put the megaphone on, cleared his throat and started to speak,
"Can I ask why the Armed Forces are attending a peaceful protest against Westminster's actions?" he shouted, "Yes, I can see ye fuckers from up here, don't be shy; show the nice protestors that ye're there!" that had caught the crowd's attention. A murmur swept through the kettle. What were the Armed Forces doing here? This was a peaceful protest. Weren't the riot police enough to stop things kicking off? Evidently it had caught the army's attention as well since one of the majors grabbed a megaphone himself to reply,
"We're merely here as a presence to prevent terrorist activity." He replied, "So long as everyone remains calm and no one tries anything then we won't be needed. " Ireland laughed,
"Aww, isn't that cute? He still thinks it's the eighties. God bless his little heart!" he called out, causing a brief laugh to ripple through the older members of the kettle. Most of the younger people looked on in confusion, not quite getting the joke. Ireland continued, "Well since you're here, mind telling me why the hell ye're listening to a PM that won't even acknowledge the Queen herself?" he called. That caught the crowd's attention, a whisper ran through it; none of them had heard about that since the PM had managed to keep it quiet. England smirked a little; this was going to get interesting, the Queen was still liked well enough by most people it seemed. England looked to Wales, gave his twin brother a devilish smirk and started humming 'God Save the Queen' loudly enough so the people next to him could hear it. Soon enough the entire kettle was singing the British national anthem with pride, causing the riot police and army soldiers to look on in confusion.
Scotland couldn't help but grin at the sight that met him and his troops in one small village on the Scottish border. The might of the British Army was being held up by a load of older men and women armed with nothing more than kitchen utensils. France chuckled as he strode up beside his best friend,
"Your people still 'ave a very strong sense of national pride, oui?" Scotland mirrored the laugh,
"Of course they do, why d'ye think I stayed an independent country fer so long?" He motioned to the piper behind him, who adjusted his pipes and started to play 'Flower of Scotland' to alert the British Army to their presence. The villagers and army looked up to see both the St Andrew's Cross and the French flag fluttering amongst a sizeable set of troops. Scotland adjusted his Glengarry and strode forward,
"I dinnae really want tae start anything, but I suggest you lot move back on south afore we make ye!" He called, "Ye have no right to be here!" One of the generals {who was being held back by an older woman with a very heavy looking rolling pin} called back,
"And on who's orders would that be?" he asked, "Last I heard Scottish forces were considered to be part of the British Armed Forces!" Scotland snorted,
"By the Queen of the United Kingdom herself!" he replied, "The same one you lot are supposed tae be sworn tae oath by!" he was starting to get annoyed now, though he noted that the villagers' glares had intensified. The general snorted,
"I very much doubt that!" he called, "The Home Secretary told me that the Queen was fine with sending us up to help with the protests!" Scotland shook his head with a sigh, when France took over,
"You 'ave been lied to!" he called, "Why would the Queen send a full two battalions against 'er own subjects?" he asked, "Surely the Scottish riot police can manage themselves?" The general snorted again, this time with disgust,
"The Home secretary has no reason to lie about something like this you stupid frog! As for why we're being sent up, the riot police are obviously having problems so why not send in the Army as backup?" France bristled, was this man really that blind? Scotland muttered something about 'stupid, fucking eejits' before gathering himself and trying again,
"Then why not use Scottish forces? As ye can plainly see, they still exist." He called, "Now I'm gonnae ask ye nicely one last time. Leave or we're gonnae make ye!" The general glared up at them and shouted to his troops,
"Weapons at the ready!" he barked. His men complied immediately, drawing their guns, though some were clearly reluctant to do so. Scotland swore angrily and shouted to the villagers instead,
"Get oot of here! This is gonnae get nasty!" Most of them were well ahead of their country and were already making their way to their cars and homes, but others had to be dragged along by their friends and relatives, shouting and swearing at the British forces the entire time. When the square was empty of civilians Scotland turned to his troops instead,
"Looks like they're gonnae have tae learn the hard way lads... and lassies." He told them, "At arms!" he commanded. He glanced over to France, who nodded and commanded the same thing of his own men and women in French. The battle for Scotland's quasi-independence was about to begin.