The Franco-Scottish relationship was not created by the Auld Alliance of 1295. It was merely codified by it — and the codification did not change the terms. Scotland provided blood. France provided gestures. One partner bore the losses. The other took the lion's share.
For nearly five centuries, every significant king of England fought the same war by different means. The question never changed: who was supreme within the realm — the monarch who wore the crown, or the institution that claimed to speak for God? The answer, when it finally came, was total. And it was the Crown.
The events between William the Conqueror's death and the Battle of Tinchebray are not a series of unconnected rebellions, invasions, and accidents. They are one war. It lasted nineteen years. It ended with a king dead in a forest and his brother in a dungeon. Nobody calls it that. They should.
The Anglo-Saxon royal bloodline did not die at Hastings. It survived, migrated north, and spent two centuries shaping the politics of England, Scotland, and the European succession without anyone writing it down as a single, continuous thing. Until now.