Gamble

England heard a cannon going off close by and jumped out of his day dream.

"A gun?"

He looked at the clock on the hotel wall.

1 o'clock.

So he must be in Edinburgh, which would explain the gun fire. It was a daily oddity, um, I mean occurrence.

It was autumn so the days were getting shorter. It now got dark between 8 and 9 now but sunset actually started about 7 or sometimes sooner depending on the weather.

He looked down a blank piece of paper in puzzlement. He had decided to list his ideas and reason for Scotland staying but had gotten distracted by his own thoughts. He was trying to decipher his strange past with Scotland.

Sure, it seemed that it was mostly just Scotland hating and hitting him while England hated and hit him back, while desperately trying to prove himself a worthy person to his brother.

But if you looked carefully and I mean really carefully, the mysterious red head would occasionally perform an unexpected act that would make England wonder if his dislike for the blonde was actually just a pretence.

What an odd pretence.

He soon found himself confused and wrapped up in the past as he tried to untangle his history and Scotland's actions. It had gotten him nowhere and he still had a blank piece of paper.

He glanced at his mobile on the side of the desk. He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. He glanced at the clock again before grabbing the phone and calling Scotland.

In a café in Edinburgh….

The three were eating lunch in a café just outside the castle. France was eating a cheese baguette, Russia was eating a regular sandwich and Scotland was eating a sausage roll. Russia noted that he probably should feed his red head better food when he was his.

Scotland took his buzzing phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen.

"It's England."

"Ton frère? What doez 'e want?"

"Dunno but I bet I can make him yell with one sentence." He grinned deviously at his friend. France smirked.

"Un word pour za uzual?"

"Deal." Scotland pressed it onto speaker and held in his hand.

'Scotland? Are you there?'

Scotland grinned smugly before answering in a fake happy, slightly high voice. "Da?"

There was a short pause before 'Screw you, you damn wanker! See if I fucking care if you go to bloody Russia and freeze to death!'

England hung up abruptly while Scotland and France laughed in unison. France wiped a tear from his eyed and leaned back in his chair.

"Zat's not fair, L'Ecosse."

"Ye neva sed it had tah be English." France did a fake pout while he removed the money from his pocket.

"Oui. Zat is true." He held up the notes. "100 euro."

"Meh country so meh currency." France pouted for real this time as he took out £100 and handed it to Scotland. The pound was worth more than the euro so £100 cost more.

The phone buzzed again and Scotland opened it and held it to his ear. "Hey England." He said cheerfully.

"Och, nuffin. I jus' made a wee bit of cash."

"Oh that…. Fer shits and giggles." He smirked slightly.

"So ye git a decent reason yet?" He listened a bit before giving a small grunt that sounded neither like a positive or a negative.

He suddenly rolled his eyes slightly before putting his phone down.

"L'Ecosse?"

"Meh brother is an eejit." He said with a shrug.

France laughed a little though it sounded uneasy. "He didn't 'ave any reasons, non?"

"Nee."

Russia beamed brightly. The red head's brother was not coming up with any reasons now. The man with crimson hair was basically his.

Back with England in the hotel room….

Damn, fucking, red haired asshole of a GIT!

This was bloody serious!

England crossed his arms angrily. He couldn't believe that Scotland had purposely tried to piss him off…. FOR MONEY!

He had phoned back afterwards – just to double check he was alright though…

Scotland sounded fine, if a little disappointed for a lack of a reason. So he did want England to come up with a reason but he wanted England to work for it….

He bit his bottom lip in thought. That was troublesome. He was usually so good at puzzles too… He was the best of crosswords and word searches. But then again, they involved logic and English.

Scotland didn't….

He had tried that.

Listing all the political and economical ways that staying in the UK could benefit Scotland. He refused all of them.

Hours passed again and still England could not figure out what Scotland wanted him to say.

With Scotland and co. again…..

Hours passed for Scotland, Russia and, despite Russia's attempts to scar the blonde away, France as well.

It was just after 4 o'clock when it happened. Russia was smiling and watching France and Scotland argued playfully over something trivial. He did enjoy a little conflict after all. Plus it was only about two hours until sunset then he could take his red head home with him.

Suddenly something came whizzing out of nowhere at Scotland's head.

Russia watched in astonishment as the red head moved his head backwards, dodging the object with pure instinct and luck. He didn't seem aware of the unconscious movement until after it had happened.

The Scotsman blinked in surprised while France stared at him with his mouth agape.

The three men turned their heads to see what it was that nearly hit Scotland. A throwing knife was solidly wedged in the stone wall.

"Whit tha?..."

Russia paled noticeably.

Knifes meant….

Another knife flew.

Scotland stepped out of the way consciously this time, turning his head to try and catch sight of the thrower. He looked more surprised than scared while France was still in shock and Russia was shaking in fear.

Two knifes came this time. Scotland grabbed France's collar and pulled him forward into his chest, leaning back at the same time. The knives nearly hit the two men, gliding just past France's back.

France's mind finally realised what was happening and he panicked.

The knives kept coming, always avoiding Russia, so Scotland kept moving himself and France out of the way of the projectiles. The beige haired man watched as the two almost danced. Scotland kept tugging and pushing the bewildered, scared blonde out of danger while barely avoiding it himself.

Russia noted, at the very back of his head, that the Scotsman was regrettably putting France's safety first before his own. If his red haired pet was injured, then the blonde was going to be painfully beaten.

The tall man was amazed though. The Scotsman seemed to be using mainly instinct, mixed in with experience, to dodge the knives that came from many different directions.

After a couple of minutes, Scotland suddenly pulled France behind him. His hand few out, catching one of the flying knifes in his hand.

Without missing a beat, he sent the knife back in the direction it came from.

There was a screech as a girl leaped from the path, revealing herself.

Russia screamed in fear, making the other two flinched.

It was her!

His crazy younger sister!

Belarus!

He cowered behind Scotland and France like they were suddenly a shield. France recognised the pretty girl with long hair in a dark blue dress while Scotland had no idea who she was.

"Brother!" She screamed.

Scotland glanced at France questionably, who pointed behind to Russia who seemed close to tears now. Scotland nodded slightly, realising that Russia and the woman were siblings.

"Brother!" She screamed again. "Why are you here in this miserable wet island when you can stay with me?"

"Oi! It's nae always miserable." (A/N – He didn't defend the fact that it isn't always wet – lol)

Her eyes narrowed as they left Russia and found the other two. She hissed angrily.

"It's your fault… You are distracting brother!"

"Whit?" He sounded confused. He had only met Russia twice and one time he was drunk beyond belief. France paled.

"L'Ecosse…" He whispered quickly. "We should leave!"

A knife flew at France. Scotland pushed France's head down. Belarus was looking back at Russia again, muttering demonically and loudly.

"Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!"

He glanced at France questionably again, who once again pointed to the terrified Russia. Scotland raised an eyebrow in surprise while France nodded.

Russia suddenly grabbed onto the red head, tugging him towards him. Belarus spat in anger at the gesture.

The tall man shook more in fear before suddenly turning and running. He kept his grip on the red head's arm.

France didn't matter. Russia would grin if he died.

He just wanted to be as far away from his sister as possible. And if possible, his red head with him as well.

After a while he stopped to catch his breath.

He turned to check on Scotland but instead saw a wheezing France.

He blinked in surprise as the red faced Frenchman gulped in oxygen.

This must be some mistake Russia thought. He was sure he had grabbed the red head but now he had this useless blonde.

Blondes were common and boring. That's why he stalks China in a panda suit. That's why he captured Prussia during WWII. That's why he wants to have Scotland too.

They were unique….

Interesting….

Special…

Collectable…

His precious red head must still be back with his crazy sister.

He tightened his grip angrily on France's wrist, who gasped in pain.

It was this annoying blonde's fault! He stopped Russia from carrying off the red head last night, he got in his way from being alone with the red again and he was the reason the red head was now at the mercy at his younger sister!

He was going to wipe this worthless blonde from the face of the earth so he would no longer prevent Russia from gaining access to his dear red head.

(A/N – Russia actually wants Scotland for purely shallow reasons. AKA – His hair colour.

Did you ever notice many blonde there are in Hetalia. It's like they're breeding or something. By 2050, the world will be completely blonde or something at this rate. XD

OMG! OMG! OMG! – I have never been this late before! I'm so sorry for taking so long to get this out! I bet some of you thought I had died! I nearly did though. I have had dozens of university open days! My next one is Friday, plus a couple after that, and school has just started again so it's going to continue being a slow up-date for a while….

Sorry! Again… For being so slow…

REVIEW PLEASE!)