I don't own Hetalia, this is purely fan-made.

Walking with his head bowed he pulled his scarf further over his face as the icy breeze swept through the streets; a lone tear rolled down his face leaving a glittering trail behind it. Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, crunching the freshly laid snow beneath his boots, he choked back a sob and pushed onward. Why did everyone hate him? The few friends he had gained he had lost, his children had all left him, now he was considered grumpy and out of touch with the world. Could they not see he was trying to hide his loneliness behind the facade?

"Look England no one likes you"

"Why do you hate the world so much?"

"Stop trying to poison everyone"

"You aren't an Empire anymore, you can't control me so stop trying to!"

As more tears began to fall he sped up his pace determined to reach his chosen destination before nightfall; his phone rang in his pocket, he had lost count after 23 how many times it had rung. They were only going to cause him more pain and shout at him for leaving halfway through the meeting, even his magical friends hadn't spoken to him.

When the ground beneath his feet changed from snow to concrete he looked up and came face to face with a large wooden door; raising a gloved hand he knocked twice before huddling up beneath the porch light. The grand entrance to the house offering him meager shelter from the heavy snow; so enamored by the dancing snowflakes he failed to notice the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Arthur" A soft accented voice broke his thoughts and he whipped around to face the owner, shoulders slumping when he spotted the familiar red hair and bright green eyes. "Arthur? Are ye cryin'? Whit's wrong?" Dropping his emotional barriers he launched himself into the familiar arms clinging onto the man before him as though he would vanish any second; the tears flowing fast and freely down his face as he sobbed. "Come inside afair ye freeze."

Warm arms wrapped around him gently leading him inside through the large ornately decorated corridors; passing a mirror he looked at his disheveled state, his hair messed up from the wind and snow, nose red from the cold and tears. Turning his head away he looked up at the taller man, the ever present cigarette had been discarded and a warm blue jumper and jeans replaced the usual blue and white uniform.

He was taken into the living room and sat on the old sofa before the grand Victorian fireplace, a warm fire already pleasantly burning. The other knelt before him gently removing his boots before taking his coat and replacing it with a knitted blanket; putting his feet beneath him Arthur curled into the warmth offered by the sofa and blanket. Calloused hands carefully unwound the scarf from his neck draping it over the arm; those hands soon placed themselves on either side of his face and tilted his head upwards. "I'll git ye a cuppa an' 'en we'll chat awe right?" Nodding he watched as the large man walked from the room; turning his attention back to the fire he watched the embers dance as it licked at the chimney, imagining his friends within the flames he shut his eyes and bit his lip.

Not moments later a cup was pressed into his hands and a warm body sat beside him gently pulling him into an embrace once more; the two sat in silence as he drank his tea, the same calloused hands gently weaved their way through his hair returning it to some normality as they did so. When the cup was empty it was placed onto the table and they remained in silence for a few more minutes listening to the wood crackle on the fire.

"Whit happened?" The voice whispered breaking the silence, gripping the man's jumper with one hand and his blanket with the other Arthur looked up at him.

"Everyone left me... I'm alone again" his voice cracked before he broke into soft sobs once more, a quiet humming began whilst the hands resumed their weaving.

"Arthur listen tae me, ye ur ne'er aloyn. Ah will ne'er leave ye again, Ah failed ye once but Ah will ne'er fail ye again." Hiccuping softly he looked up at him "Ye ur mah wee brither Arthur, Ah will aye try tae protect ye. Ye will hae me by yer side until ah cannae be thaur." Putting his head on his brother's jumper he allowed the words to sink in, the vibration of his phone in his pocket caused him to whimper pathetically once more. Gently the other removed the phone, rejected the call, sent a text and shut it off throwing it onto the carpeted floor.

"Thank you" he said in a hushed tone cuddling under the blanket as it was pulled back up his shoulders "I don't want to fight anymore" Shaking his head he cast a glance upwards green eyes meeting green, the older sighed and placed a hand on his cheek.

"An' we willnae. Nae again" Returning his head to it's position on his brother's side he allowed himself the luxury of slipping off into a much needed sleep knowing he was not alone. "E'en when th' warld turns their backs oan ye we will be haur, Dylan, Fiona an' Ah. ne'er forgit 'at Arthur." Carefully in order not to wake him the red head lifted Arthur, blanket and all, into his arms. Walking through the corridors past the tapestries depicting their joint histories, he walked up the grand staircase, the carpet muffling his footsteps as he did so.

Pushing a door open with his foot he walked inside and over to the large double poster bed; setting Arthur down on one side then removing the blankets from the other and placing him beneath them. Standing back he smiled down the moon now high in the sky outside the window, it's glow illuminating the two of them, with no other light source his brother looked angelic and peaceful. Reaching out he brushed a stray strand of blonde hair off to the side, ensuring Arthur was warm he retreated from the room lingering in the doorway for just a moment. A ghost of a smile on his lips as he looked at the room's first occupant in centuries.

"Sleep weel brither, i'll be haur in th' morn." The soft click of the door shutting was the last sound heard within the room, other than the soft breathing of it's occupant now resting peacefully having made amends with his family, until the next morning.

The Frenchman looked down at his phone in contemplation re-reading the text over and over, humming softly he forwarded onto the American to silence his questions.

He's with me and I'm not leaving him.

Let him rest, anymore texts and I will deal with you.

Don't expect any contact for a while.

-Scotland

Clicking the phone off he placed it on the chair and returned to his wine, looking out of the window up at the large glowing orb in the sky, peaceful for the first time in a long time. A small smile playing on his lips as he sipped the red liquid.

"Et les rênes de la paix à travers les îles Britanniques" (And peace reins throughout the British Isles)