Scotland didn't want another sibling. He already had two irritating younger brothers, Ireland and Wales. Ireland, who was the second oldest (after Scotland), has dark orange hair and the green eyes that ran in the family, he kept to himself but Wales often follows him around. Wales was the youngest, at the moment. He's unmissable with his orange, edging on brown, hair that sticks up in all angles and radioactive green eyes. Finally, Scotland was the oldest, had blood red hair and dark green eyes. And he preferred it when it was just him and Britannia.

He really did adore his mother, with her beautiful, long blonde hair and shining, green eyes. There was a smile always present on her lips. Except now. Now that little bugger was ruining everything. She was already weak because of the Roman Empire just at their doorstep, but now she has to be extra careful because of that brat growing inside of her. Scotland knew she could beat the Roman Empire, easily. That kid was putting them all at risk.

Scotland, Ireland and Wales were sitting in the living room anxiously. Their mother's screams of agony woke them all up from their rather restless slumber. At first, Scotland thought that Rome had somehow infiltrated their home without them knowing. But it wasn't, no, it was something much worse. The kid was on its way.

It was two hours later when one of the nurses came to collect them. Wales jumped off the seat and raced to Britannia's room with a wide grin on his face, glad he could finally see his mother and the new baby. He wasn't as sour about the new addition to the family as the other brothers were. Ireland didn't mind too much, Wales would be preoccupied and he would have more time with himself. He looked over at the red head with a shrug and pulled himself off to join Wales.

Scotland hesitated. The nurse had a knowing look in her eye before she left silently. Well, this is it, the runt has finally arrived. He really didn't want to go, but the unrelenting urge to check if his mother was alright forced him to his feet. He soon found himself outside his mother's room; the grand mahogany wood was the only thing keeping him and his… new baby brother. Scotland shivered and gently shook his head. On the other side of the door, he could hear the soft coos of his mother and quiet giggles from Wales.

'Oh, damn it…' He thought and took a deep breath. Pushing the heavy door open, he saw his mother's exhausted but happy face looking down at the small bundle in her arms. Ireland was sitting in the armchair peacefully with a small smile on his face. While Wales was kneeling on the bed at his mother's side, smiling and making funny faces at the baby. He hopped of the bed once he saw Scotland standing at the doorway, Wales pulled on his sleeve to encourage him to enter. "Oh Scotland! You have to see the baby, he's sooo cute!"

Scotland didn't move, he stood at the doorway of the room wondering if he should just go. He's seen his mother, she's fine if a little tired, and that's all he wanted.

Britannia looked over at her oldest son, she felt a frown pull at her lips, she knew how Scotland felt about the baby, but she hoped he would give little Albion a chance.

"Scotland? Please just look at him." She pleaded.

Scotland visibly flinched at the tone of her voice and shuffled over to her side of the bed.

He was shocked at first, at how much the little brat looked like his mother.

Brilliant emerald green eyes peeked out of the bundle of quilts it was covered in, and a tuft of messy, blonde hair on top of his head.

"This is Albion." Came the soft voice of Britannia. "Albion," the baby's intense green eyes flicked over to his mother, "This is your big brother Scotland." The eyes slowly gazed over to the bright red hair of his oldest sibling. A small, high pitched noise escaped from the child.

Scotland ignored it and left the room. He couldn't believe it, the brat looked like Britannia. His mother. The runt shared the features of the only person he cared about.

It's been a couple of years since Albion was born. He was a quiet kid, small too but very intelligent. He often never left Britannia's side and, if she was called away for important business (which was happening more frequently now) he would either stay in his room with his toys or with Wales. He'd tried to talk with his other brothers, but Ireland would brush him off with the excuse of 'being too busy at the moment', and any sort of communication with Scotland would usually end in tears.

Today Albion was in his room, thinking about what he must have done to his two older brothers. Ireland seemed very tense lately, he spoke to Scotland in hushed whispers about their mother and someone called Rome. He didn't know who Rome was but he didn't sound very nice.

Scotland never spoke to him, and when they were in the same room he would always sneer at him and play pranks on him and mutter mean words about him. Albion let out a quiet sigh and continued to colour his picture of the family he wished he had. He had to admit, he was rather worried about his Mama too. She seemed to be very tired all the time and she never stayed at home for too long anymore.

'I must'a done somefing wrong,' he thought as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill over, 'even Mama doesn' wanna be wif me.' He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes when he heard the bedroom door open.

"Albi? Honey, what's wrong?" Britannia's sweet, soothing voice asked. She bent down to pick up Albion up in her arms and gently rock him side to side.

The child sniffed and rubbed his eyes and whispered, "I wuv you Mama."

"Oh, I love you too, Albion." She snuggled her child closer to her chest.

"But why do you l-w… leave?" He looked up with sparkling green eyes filled with sorrow that shouldn't be there at his age.

She took a deep breath, trying to push back her own tears, oh how she wished she could spend more time with her baby, with all of her children. "To protect you." She whispered into his soft hair.