White Flags (Placeholder)
anonymous
February 19 2011, 23:22:42 UTC
White Flags: A series of related Canada-centric history fics/vignettes, begun for NaNoWriMo 2010. Some of them are request-based, some are from research, some are just for fun.
This fill will contain, in no particular order: history (~1680-2010 CE), historical persons, angst, fluff, mostly-off screen OCs, and whatever pairings strike my fancy.
White Flags (1/?)
anonymous
February 19 2011, 23:34:48 UTC
In this chapter: France meets Canada, and gives him a bath. A couple human OCs appear, but they won't be back.
~ ~ ~
June 1679 :: Lachine, Canada
Francis held his hat in his left hand, knocked on the door with his right. Waited.
The woman who opened the door was a good deal older than he remembered, but she still had the same bright eyes as the girl he declared a ward of the king and handed into the ship. "Hélène Guillaume?"
"Yes? Oh!" She smiled. "It's been a long time, Francis."
"Fifteen years isn't that long."
"For you, maybe." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I have six children of my own, now."
"I'm sure they're as lovely as you are, my darling."
She swatted his arm, but her smile didn't dim. "Don't let Alfonce hear you say that. Are you here for Canada, then?"
"May I see him?"
"Of course." She ushered him into the room, indicated the boy setting the table with a tip of her chin. "To be honest, I'd expected you to come for him earlier. It's nearly ten years he's been with us."
"And I didn't expect him at all. If you could?"
She nodded. "Matthieu?" she called.
The boy looked up, trotted over when she extended her hand.
"This is Francis Bonnefoy- France," she corrected herself. "France, this is Canada, Matthieu."
Francis crouched so he could be eye-level, and oh he could see his influence on the colony - that golden hair, those manners. "Good day, Canada."
"Good day." He squinted, just a little. "You're like me."
"Mm-hm." He dropped his hand to his chin. "I'm your big brother."
"I already have a brother." He gestured vaguely south, and Hélène clucked her tongue.
"Matthieu."
"No, he's correct. But I'm your big brother, and I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."
The boy's eyes were very serious. "Why are you here?"
"Matthieu," Hélène said with a squeeze of her hand, "Francis is here to start your apprenticeship."
"But I like it here, with you and Alfonce and the children."
Francis opened his mouth, but Hélène stilled him with a gesture. "Don't you want to grow, to help people?"
Matthieu bit his lip, and Francis tsked.
"Now now, Hélène, he doesn't have to decide right away. I've secured a room at the Sepulcian manor house, and we can speak again tomorrow. Would you like that, Matthieu?"
The boy nodded, so Francis smiled and ruffled his hair. They both had time.
Five days later, Hélène's husband handed Matthieu up onto Francis' horse, and they rode away from the seigneury, down the road to Montréal.
~ ~ ~
May 1687 :: Quebec City, Canada
Francis poured handfuls of water down Matthew's back and chest, admiring the way his pale skin glistened. "Ready to wash your hair, kitten?"
"Mm-hm." Matthew wiggled against Francis' chest, sending little waves to lap against Francis' knees.
"That usually means you have to lean forward, sugar."
"But you're warm."
Francis couldn't help but smile at his colony's cuteness. Really, the roast beef had no idea what he was missing in fussing only over the southern brother. "The water's warm too."
"You're warmer." He hesitated. "And the soap gets in my eyes."
"Have I ever gotten soap in your eyes, Matthieu?"
"No, but-" He wiggled again, though without his earlier cuteness. "Whenever I wash my hair it does."
Francis stroked Matthieu's spine, considering. "Do you usually wash your hair yourself?"
"Uh-huh."
"Are there other things you do by yourself?"
"Uh-huh. I make my bed, and fetch and heat my bathwater, and make my fire in the morning. Sometimes I even cook!" He smiled over his shoulder. "Marie says I'm a big boy, and big boys should be able to take care of themselves. But it's nice when you're here - it's hard to get the fire high enough on my own, and you make delicious crepes."
White Flags (2/?)
anonymous
February 19 2011, 23:37:51 UTC
"The governor and the intendant don't look in on you?"
"They do - Marie makes sure the house is clean enough when they visit, since I can't dust the mantel without a chair, and she brings me groceries. I only have to cook when it's cold, or the snow's on the ground."
Which was nearly half the year; if he didn't know better, Francis wouldn't believe that Montreal and Paris were nearly the same latitude. "Is Marie the only helper you have?"
"Jean-Marc comes by with wood, and sometimes his wife's stew." He lifted his foot from the water, wiggled his toes as droplets ran down his heel. "Genevieve makes good stew - it's almost like yours, with the rosemary."
He took a breath, let it out. Looked closely at Matthieu's ribs and tried to decide if he was thin simply from the condition of his colony or from neglect.
Not that neglect of the body precluded neglect of the colony...
"Would you like someone else to come and help, while I'm gone?" He wet Matthieu's hair, massaged in the soap while Matthieu made happy noises. "I asked you a question, kitten."
"Wha- Oh! But I'm supposed to take care of myself, now, Marie said so."
"Having help doesn't mean that you can't take care of yourself. Don't you remember the man I brought to do my laundry?"
"Uh-huh." He pushed into Francis' hands, and Francis didn't resist, took his time washing Matthieu's scalp.
"So, would you like some help? It would give you more time to work on your studies, and to listen in on the Sovereign Council."
He couldn't miss Matthieu's pout, not with the way his shoulders hunched and were only soothed with some careful scalp scritches.
"You're a colony, my little man, which means you have more responsibilities than most children." He picked the cup from the side table, coaxed Matthieu to tilt his head back. "You don't have the time to spend every day cooking," he said as he poured bathwater through Matthieu's hair, rinsing out the bubbles. "There's no shame in having someone make your food, help you when you bathe, clean your clothes..."
"That'd be getting above myself. Only important people have servants."
Francis sighed. What to say, what to say... "You are important, kitten - you're a crown colony, not the fifth child of a title-less habitant. Not even the fortress blacksmith is as important as you are."
"But I don't do anything. I just sit around and listen to people talk, and sometimes practice my letters."
"Oh Matthieu." He kissed his boy's temple. "That is what you need to be doing. You can't learn if you have no guide to what you are feeling, how things are progressing. And it takes time, kitten, and many many council meetings."
Matthieu sighed, so very like Francis, and looked away.
Not a complete victory, then, but a start. "I'll find you someone suitable before I leave, yes?" He'd begin as soon as he gave the Sovereign Council a piece of his mind, and sent a letter to Louis. He'd have to look in on his other colonies as well.
Matthieu nodded, eyes still on the wall.
"Good. Now," he tucked a wet strand of hair behind Matthieu's ear, "would you help me wash my hair?"
Matthieu turned cautiously, like he was waiting for Francis to add another condition; Francis simply smiled, handed him the bar of soap.
"... Okay." He scooted back to give Francis room to turn.
"Thank you, kitten. And then once we're dry, I'll see about making you some proper white sausage, hm?"
There was his smile back, and all the answer Francis needed.
White Flags (Notes)
anonymous
February 19 2011, 23:40:33 UTC
Argh character limit. *kicks it*
Notes:
1679: - Much of New France had more men than women, for a variety of reasons, so there weren't a lot of new babies being born. To change that, the Intendant of New France began importing women to Canada in 1665. The "Filles du roi" (King’s Daughters) were women, mostly middle-class or lower, who were given a dowry from the king in exchange for crossing the ocean and marrying the male settlers. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King%27s_Daughters - Seigneuries were semi-feudal systems of land ownership, where a landlord (seigneur) rented the land to residents (habitants). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seigneurial_system_of_New_France - The Supicians are a religious group who had a seigneury in the area, and in 1684 created a seminary in Montreal. No significance to the date.
1684: Canada was kind of.. not properly taken care of by France. It didn't get the investment in money or population that New England did, and so it didn't start really making money until after the British take-over. The off-screen caretaker, Marie, reflects that. Again, no significance to the date.
Concrit is highly appreciated! Grammar, history, characterisation, flow, whatever! This isn't a full fic in and of itself, but if there are any particularly glaring holes, let me know and I'll try to patch them up.
Also, shout-out to the anon(s) who run maple_kink on Delicious - you saved my sanity this November, so that I didn't have to go hunting through the meme to find requests I may/not have misremembered. Thank you for your hard work! ♥
Re: White Flags (Notes)
anonymous
February 20 2011, 04:47:05 UTC
good, I'm glad that some proper history is being shown. France was not a good big brother and despite all the irritants England did more for Canada then anyone else. England turned Canada into a country and made it prosperous. Now Canada's all full grown and fully capable of taking care of it's self of course but history will never change in that aspect.
Re: White Flags (Notes) w!a
anonymous
February 20 2011, 20:41:21 UTC
I object to calling things like the attempted assimilation of the Quebecois and disregard for Native peoples "irritants," but I agree with your main point - Britain had a much greater influence on what became modern Canada than France did, by a long shot, and that the flufftastic France + child!Canada stories are fanon. It's nice to know I'm not alone in this. :)
(Not that that should stop anyone from enjoying flufftastic family times! It's just that it isn't true irl. *said as someone who write & reads it* But I'd love to see more people tackle the bad parts of their relationship, aside from the abandonment angst. >>;)
Re: White Flags (Notes) w!a
anonymous
March 22 2011, 03:13:00 UTC
The flufftastic stories still have some basis. The French were really good in dealing with the native people in Canadian territory. They didn't deal with them as equals (keeping the guns to themselves), but they were willing to learn and operate under traditional customs. Part of the reason Canada (New France) was so costly to maintain was because the French entered into gift-giving relationships to maintain alliances with various tribes. In a sense, France did 'dote' - because on the flipside, England just gave the natives guns and hoped they'd destroy themselves. /2cents
But writer anon, this is a fantasic story and a fascinating look at a different side of the France-Canada relationship. I love seeing people challenge the fanon-established views on relationships. Can't wait to see you explore more Canadian history!
White Flags (3/?)
anonymous
March 20 2011, 22:47:43 UTC
November 1689 :: Quebec City
Matthieu wasn't completely surprised the day he found a middle-aged man standing on his doorstep, looking up at the heavy clouds. Onondaga and Maliseet had warned him of Winter, and the bargain that Matthieu would soon have to uphold.
So he did the only thing he could think of: "Would you like to come in for some supper?" he asked.
The man turned his face toward Matthieu and raised an eyebrow.
"I've enough to share, and there's no reason we can't be polite about this."
The man stared at him a moment longer, then tipped back his head and laughed. "It has been a long time, little one, since anyone has dared address me in such a manner. Are you not scared of what I can do to you?"
Matthieu shrugged. "I've lived with you for as long as I can remember, Father Winter, because of the others I share this land with. You haven't destroyed me yet."
"Yet," he echoed, and Matthieu thought he saw him smile. "Have you any duck?"
"No, but I have stew and fresh bread."
Winter considered, nodded. "Very well."
~ ~ ~
8 September 1760 :: Montreal, Canada :: on the occasion of Canada's final surrender to Great Britain
Matthieu looked out of the windows of the governor's residence, not really seeing his city. Another few weeks, and the leaves would start turning colours. Farmers were already selecting what stock to slaughter for winter. Families were covering up their parsnips and carrots before the fall. His governor general sat next to him at the table, preparing to surrender him to the English general.
Vaudreuil set aside his fork, folded his napkin. "I tried, Matthieu."
"I know," he said quietly, and mustered a smile for his governor. "You're one of mine - I know."
He shook his head. "Montcalm would have had things to say if he heard that."
"Montcalm had a great deal to say about a great many things, few enough of them complimentary to me or mine. And I-" He pushed his knife along the table. "You saved my people, at the cost of your career, against orders to fight to the last man. Thank you."
He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head ruefully. "I never have gotten used to hearing such talk from one who looks so young. And I only did what was right."
"Lévis did what he thought was right, too."
"Mm, and he still is." Vaudreuil tipped his finger toward the window. "He's burning the regimental colours, since Amherst won't allow the honours of war."
That- That would explain the column of smoke rising over the courtyard. Matthieu bit his lip. "And the protections for the Acadians?"
"Rejected. I'm sorry I couldn't protect your cousins, just you." He took a sip of his wine, eyes on the rooftops outside. "You will have the rights of British citizens, and protection for the faith."
"The same as Quebec City, then."
"Very much so, yes." He pushed his chair back, but hesitated before standing. "Will you be coming to the gate, for the ceremony?"
"I don't have a choice."
"I'd be glad to make an excuse, arrange for General Amherst to meet you in your residence instead."
"Thank you, Pierre." He touched Vaudreuil's arm. "I know you mean well, but if there is one thing Francis taught me, it was to do my duty, and my duty is to be passed to the General just as the city is. Appearences must be maintained."
He nodded, patted Matthew's hand awkwardly.
"Besides," he said with a smile, "my brother's out there, and he wouldn't let me live it down."
~ ~ ~
May 1761 :: London, England
The ship glided up the Thames, giving Matthieu a good, long look at London - the docks swarming with workers, smoke rising from thousands of chimneys, the smell of sewage in the water.
He hadn't been here an hour, but Matthieu already hated it all.
He could see Arthur from the deck, his red coat bright among the homespun of the dock hands. There was a curricle waiting behind, one of the bay carriage horses prodding the cobblestone with its hoof. Not even the horses wanted to be there.
White Flags (4/?)
anonymous
March 20 2011, 22:53:18 UTC
Matthieu let himself be bundled into the rowboat with his small chest, sandwiched between two of the midshipmen for the short trip to the pier. He didn't expect Arthur to give him a hand up, but there he was, helping him balance on the rope ladder. When Matthieu had two feet planted on the wood of the pier, Arthur dusted his hands off, smiled.
"Welcome to Great Britain, Matthew."
"Matthieu."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Mon nom-" English, he had to speak English here. "My name is Matthieu."
"Well, at least the frog gave you something of an education. No matter, we'll work on that as well. If you'll follow me?"
He didn't want to, but it wasn't as if he had a choice. He let Arthur lead him back to the curricle as the crew loaded his chest onto the back, and lift him into the passenger seat. Arthur gave them a few coins, then hopped into the curricle and picked up the reins; a light flick on their sides set the horses moving.
Arthur drove with a light touch, neatly moving them around the slower carts and carriages. The curricle was so smooth that Matthieu could almost pretend that he was back home among his fir trees, looking up at the blue sky, his bear next to him-
"Matthew-"
Matthieu blinked, jerked out of his memories. "Matthieu."
"Matthieu. I asked you a question."
"I want to go home," he mumbled to his hands.
"Oh." Arthur glanced over, away. "Surely you've been to Europe before?"
"Once." He hesitated, but Arthur didn't interrupt. "I'd finally begun making money for the Crown, so Francis presented me to King Louis."
He turned the horses round a corner, toward the centre of the city. "Did you like Paris?"
"No. Francis sent me back on the first ship that could take me across the Atlantic."
"I see." He was silent for a while, and Matthieu was glad for it. "I'm sorry, lad. I can't send you back, not until a peace treaty is signed. But it shan't be horrible - I'll have the best governesses brought in, and you'll have company. Île Royale and Guadeloupe are already here, and Nova Scotia will visit next spring. You'll be treated the same way as any of my own colonies."
Matthieu pulled his coat close, and didn't reply.
~ ~ ~
19 February 1763 :: Paris, France :: after the signing of the Treaty of Paris
Matthieu hated this. He hated the diplomats who congratulated themselves on bringing an end to seven (nine, nine!) years of war. He hated the victory on Arthur's face and the relief on Francis'. He hated the woollen breeches a maid had stuffed him into. He hated Guadeloupe and Saint Lucia and Martinique for going back to France, and he hated Grenada and Tobago for not being upset that they were staying with Britain.
"We knew it was coming," Grenada had said that morning. "Why are you so surprised?"
So he stayed in a corner with Florida and Louisiana, playing string games one of Florida’s hair ribbons while the other colonies ate pastries and mingled. He tried not to listen for Francis' laugh, or the rhythm of his step, and concentrated on learning how to make a broom shape out of string.
He didn't hear Francis behind him until he was being swung onto Francis' hip.
Francis laughed at his wide eyes. "Hello to you too, kitten. My beauty," he said with a playful tug on Louisiana's hair. "Did you really think I'd leave without saying good-bye?"
Aveline shook her head, and Matthieu buried his face in Francis' neck.
He tutted. "Now now, little one. Madamoiselle, may I borrow your friends for a moment?"
Florida murmured something that could have been a yes; Matthieu heard the rustle of her skirts as she curtsied, walked away.
"Now." Francis detached Matthieu from his coat, set him on the floor despite his wriggling. "Why so dispirited, my little ones? You look as if our separation is the end of the world."
"It is," Matthieu mumbled, and Aveline nodded.
"We have to eat Arthur's cooking."
"Ah yes, a fate worse than death." He chuckled, took Aveline's hand. "But that's only when he visits, yes?"
White Flags (5/? + Notes)
anonymous
March 20 2011, 23:06:58 UTC
"And it's not the last time we'll see each other - the world turns, and England won't have control of you forever."
Matthieu looked up at his big brother. "Do you promise?"
"I promise." He ruffled Matthieu's hair, squeezed Aveline's fingers. "I haven't seen you two lovelies have anything to eat tonight. Shall we get you some dessert?"
Matthieu & Aveline nodded, and let Francis lead them to the buffet.
When it was time to leave, Francis kissed their foreheads, and handed them into Arthur's carriage himself. Matthieu scrambled for the window seat, palm to the glass; and when Arthur's back was turned Francis gave him a wink, then walked back into the ballroom.
It'd be all right, he thought to himself as Arthur climbed in and settled Saint Vincent in his lap, Francis would make it right. All Matthieu had to do was wait.
~ ~ ~
Notes:
1689: Onondaga and Maliseet are two Native groups who lived (and still live) in the same "territory" as Canada. Since there were winters in Canada long before the French arrived, I assume the Native groups had their own agreements with Winter.
1760: - Pierre Vaudreuil was the first - and last - Canadian-born governor-general of New France. He didn't exactly get along with General Montcalm, who was in charge of the defence of the colony during the Seven Years' War, and who died during the attack on Quebec City. (Ever seen the painting "The Death of General Wolfe"? Same battle.) http://www.biographi.ca/009004-119.01-e.php?&id_nbr=2142 - After a series of battles that you probably don’t care about, the British first conquered Quebec City in September 1759, and Montreal - and therefore New France - in September 1760. In both cases, if the cities had managed to hold out just another couple weeks, the British would have had to retreat in the face of the incoming pack ice. - Governor Vaudreuil had orders to fight the British (mostly American) soldiers to the last man, but surrendered Montreal instead. Ruined his career, but it meant the soldiers didn't burn the city & its inhabitants to the ground. - The terms of surrender provided protections for the people of Canada, including their religion and property, but Major General Amherst refused to grant protection for the Acadians (who had been deported from their homes in Nova Scotia/Acadia for complicated reasons, many of whom ended up in Louisiana) or to give the military the honours of war. Instead of handing over the military flags, the Chevalier de Lévis burned the colours. http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/index.cfm?PgNm=TCE&Params=A1ARTA0010703 http://www.canadiana.org/view/42695/0010 - Alfred would totally be part of any liberation of Canada, you know it. ;)
May 1761: - Date is my guesstimate of when a ship would leave from Quebec and land in England once the pack ice left the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. - England drives a curricle - a small, two-wheeled carriage suitable for young men with more money than sense. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curricle - Great Britain conquered a hell of a lot more French & Spanish colonies during the Seven Years' War than just Canada - Grenada, St. Lucia, Cuba… And what better place to symbolically keep them than England's own house? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evolution_of_the_British_Empire
19 February 1763: - The Treaty of Paris ended what most of the world calls the Seven Years War, and what the US calls the French & Indian War (one of several). The war started two years "early" in the North American colonies, hence Matthieu’s insistence on it being nine years of war. - Canadians/Quebecers thought that France would take them back from Britain - if not in 1763, then the next war - and were minimally cooperative to the British. It meant lots of headaches for the colonial government, and lots of smashed hopes when the American Revolution rolled around. - Louisiana was "taken" by Britain after the Treaty of Paris, but in a secret deal France gave most of Louisiana to Spain as compensation for Spain’s war losses. French residents of Louisiana were not happy, but Louisiana herself wouldn’t have known about it until after the Treaty was signed.
This fill will contain, in no particular order: history (~1680-2010 CE), historical persons, angst, fluff, mostly-off screen OCs, and whatever pairings strike my fancy.
Requests filled:
France & Canada meet: Part 2: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/3274.html?thread=4782794#t4782794 (2nd)
Doting daddy France: Part 4: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=10685890#t10685890 (2nd)
General Winter fighting for Canada: Part 6: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=17063970#t17063970 (2nd)
Serious discussion of 1812, Canada doesn't want to die: Part 5: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=14192650#t14192650
Canada becomes independant of the UK, Part 7: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20177616#t20177616
England+Canada fluff, Part 11: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13125.html?thread=33718853#t33718853
History-based (Cheerful) anything goes, Part 11: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13943.html?thread=34704247#t34704247 (2nd)
Index anons, I'm sorry. ^^;
You should be able to read them independent of each other, so don't feel bad about skipping chapters you're not interested in. :)
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~ ~ ~
June 1679 :: Lachine, Canada
Francis held his hat in his left hand, knocked on the door with his right. Waited.
The woman who opened the door was a good deal older than he remembered, but she still had the same bright eyes as the girl he declared a ward of the king and handed into the ship. "Hélène Guillaume?"
"Yes? Oh!" She smiled. "It's been a long time, Francis."
"Fifteen years isn't that long."
"For you, maybe." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I have six children of my own, now."
"I'm sure they're as lovely as you are, my darling."
She swatted his arm, but her smile didn't dim. "Don't let Alfonce hear you say that. Are you here for Canada, then?"
"May I see him?"
"Of course." She ushered him into the room, indicated the boy setting the table with a tip of her chin. "To be honest, I'd expected you to come for him earlier. It's nearly ten years he's been with us."
"And I didn't expect him at all. If you could?"
She nodded. "Matthieu?" she called.
The boy looked up, trotted over when she extended her hand.
"This is Francis Bonnefoy- France," she corrected herself. "France, this is Canada, Matthieu."
Francis crouched so he could be eye-level, and oh he could see his influence on the colony - that golden hair, those manners. "Good day, Canada."
"Good day." He squinted, just a little. "You're like me."
"Mm-hm." He dropped his hand to his chin. "I'm your big brother."
"I already have a brother." He gestured vaguely south, and Hélène clucked her tongue.
"Matthieu."
"No, he's correct. But I'm your big brother, and I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."
The boy's eyes were very serious. "Why are you here?"
"Matthieu," Hélène said with a squeeze of her hand, "Francis is here to start your apprenticeship."
"But I like it here, with you and Alfonce and the children."
Francis opened his mouth, but Hélène stilled him with a gesture. "Don't you want to grow, to help people?"
Matthieu bit his lip, and Francis tsked.
"Now now, Hélène, he doesn't have to decide right away. I've secured a room at the Sepulcian manor house, and we can speak again tomorrow. Would you like that, Matthieu?"
The boy nodded, so Francis smiled and ruffled his hair. They both had time.
Five days later, Hélène's husband handed Matthieu up onto Francis' horse, and they rode away from the seigneury, down the road to Montréal.
~ ~ ~
May 1687 :: Quebec City, Canada
Francis poured handfuls of water down Matthew's back and chest, admiring the way his pale skin glistened. "Ready to wash your hair, kitten?"
"Mm-hm." Matthew wiggled against Francis' chest, sending little waves to lap against Francis' knees.
"That usually means you have to lean forward, sugar."
"But you're warm."
Francis couldn't help but smile at his colony's cuteness. Really, the roast beef had no idea what he was missing in fussing only over the southern brother. "The water's warm too."
"You're warmer." He hesitated. "And the soap gets in my eyes."
"Have I ever gotten soap in your eyes, Matthieu?"
"No, but-" He wiggled again, though without his earlier cuteness. "Whenever I wash my hair it does."
Francis stroked Matthieu's spine, considering. "Do you usually wash your hair yourself?"
"Uh-huh."
"Are there other things you do by yourself?"
"Uh-huh. I make my bed, and fetch and heat my bathwater, and make my fire in the morning. Sometimes I even cook!" He smiled over his shoulder. "Marie says I'm a big boy, and big boys should be able to take care of themselves. But it's nice when you're here - it's hard to get the fire high enough on my own, and you make delicious crepes."
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"They do - Marie makes sure the house is clean enough when they visit, since I can't dust the mantel without a chair, and she brings me groceries. I only have to cook when it's cold, or the snow's on the ground."
Which was nearly half the year; if he didn't know better, Francis wouldn't believe that Montreal and Paris were nearly the same latitude. "Is Marie the only helper you have?"
"Jean-Marc comes by with wood, and sometimes his wife's stew." He lifted his foot from the water, wiggled his toes as droplets ran down his heel. "Genevieve makes good stew - it's almost like yours, with the rosemary."
He took a breath, let it out. Looked closely at Matthieu's ribs and tried to decide if he was thin simply from the condition of his colony or from neglect.
Not that neglect of the body precluded neglect of the colony...
"Would you like someone else to come and help, while I'm gone?" He wet Matthieu's hair, massaged in the soap while Matthieu made happy noises. "I asked you a question, kitten."
"Wha- Oh! But I'm supposed to take care of myself, now, Marie said so."
"Having help doesn't mean that you can't take care of yourself. Don't you remember the man I brought to do my laundry?"
"Uh-huh." He pushed into Francis' hands, and Francis didn't resist, took his time washing Matthieu's scalp.
"So, would you like some help? It would give you more time to work on your studies, and to listen in on the Sovereign Council."
He couldn't miss Matthieu's pout, not with the way his shoulders hunched and were only soothed with some careful scalp scritches.
"You're a colony, my little man, which means you have more responsibilities than most children." He picked the cup from the side table, coaxed Matthieu to tilt his head back. "You don't have the time to spend every day cooking," he said as he poured bathwater through Matthieu's hair, rinsing out the bubbles. "There's no shame in having someone make your food, help you when you bathe, clean your clothes..."
"That'd be getting above myself. Only important people have servants."
Francis sighed. What to say, what to say... "You are important, kitten - you're a crown colony, not the fifth child of a title-less habitant. Not even the fortress blacksmith is as important as you are."
"But I don't do anything. I just sit around and listen to people talk, and sometimes practice my letters."
"Oh Matthieu." He kissed his boy's temple. "That is what you need to be doing. You can't learn if you have no guide to what you are feeling, how things are progressing. And it takes time, kitten, and many many council meetings."
Matthieu sighed, so very like Francis, and looked away.
Not a complete victory, then, but a start. "I'll find you someone suitable before I leave, yes?" He'd begin as soon as he gave the Sovereign Council a piece of his mind, and sent a letter to Louis. He'd have to look in on his other colonies as well.
Matthieu nodded, eyes still on the wall.
"Good. Now," he tucked a wet strand of hair behind Matthieu's ear, "would you help me wash my hair?"
Matthieu turned cautiously, like he was waiting for Francis to add another condition; Francis simply smiled, handed him the bar of soap.
"... Okay." He scooted back to give Francis room to turn.
"Thank you, kitten. And then once we're dry, I'll see about making you some proper white sausage, hm?"
There was his smile back, and all the answer Francis needed.
~ ~ ~
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Notes:
1679:
- Much of New France had more men than women, for a variety of reasons, so there weren't a lot of new babies being born. To change that, the Intendant of New France began importing women to Canada in 1665. The "Filles du roi" (King’s Daughters) were women, mostly middle-class or lower, who were given a dowry from the king in exchange for crossing the ocean and marrying the male settlers.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King%27s_Daughters
- Seigneuries were semi-feudal systems of land ownership, where a landlord (seigneur) rented the land to residents (habitants).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seigneurial_system_of_New_France
- The Supicians are a religious group who had a seigneury in the area, and in 1684 created a seminary in Montreal. No significance to the date.
1684:
Canada was kind of.. not properly taken care of by France. It didn't get the investment in money or population that New England did, and so it didn't start really making money until after the British take-over. The off-screen caretaker, Marie, reflects that. Again, no significance to the date.
Concrit is highly appreciated! Grammar, history, characterisation, flow, whatever! This isn't a full fic in and of itself, but if there are any particularly glaring holes, let me know and I'll try to patch them up.
Also, shout-out to the anon(s) who run maple_kink on Delicious - you saved my sanity this November, so that I didn't have to go hunting through the meme to find requests I may/not have misremembered. Thank you for your hard work! ♥
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(Not that that should stop anyone from enjoying flufftastic family times! It's just that it isn't true irl. *said as someone who write & reads it* But I'd love to see more people tackle the bad parts of their relationship, aside from the abandonment angst. >>;)
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But writer anon, this is a fantasic story and a fascinating look at a different side of the France-Canada relationship. I love seeing people challenge the fanon-established views on relationships. Can't wait to see you explore more Canadian history!
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Awesome writing style A!A, mixed in with historical facts! A fantastic combination. ^^
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Matthieu wasn't completely surprised the day he found a middle-aged man standing on his doorstep, looking up at the heavy clouds. Onondaga and Maliseet had warned him of Winter, and the bargain that Matthieu would soon have to uphold.
So he did the only thing he could think of: "Would you like to come in for some supper?" he asked.
The man turned his face toward Matthieu and raised an eyebrow.
"I've enough to share, and there's no reason we can't be polite about this."
The man stared at him a moment longer, then tipped back his head and laughed. "It has been a long time, little one, since anyone has dared address me in such a manner. Are you not scared of what I can do to you?"
Matthieu shrugged. "I've lived with you for as long as I can remember, Father Winter, because of the others I share this land with. You haven't destroyed me yet."
"Yet," he echoed, and Matthieu thought he saw him smile. "Have you any duck?"
"No, but I have stew and fresh bread."
Winter considered, nodded. "Very well."
~ ~ ~
8 September 1760 :: Montreal, Canada :: on the occasion of Canada's final surrender to Great Britain
Matthieu looked out of the windows of the governor's residence, not really seeing his city. Another few weeks, and the leaves would start turning colours. Farmers were already selecting what stock to slaughter for winter. Families were covering up their parsnips and carrots before the fall. His governor general sat next to him at the table, preparing to surrender him to the English general.
Vaudreuil set aside his fork, folded his napkin. "I tried, Matthieu."
"I know," he said quietly, and mustered a smile for his governor. "You're one of mine - I know."
He shook his head. "Montcalm would have had things to say if he heard that."
"Montcalm had a great deal to say about a great many things, few enough of them complimentary to me or mine. And I-" He pushed his knife along the table. "You saved my people, at the cost of your career, against orders to fight to the last man. Thank you."
He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head ruefully. "I never have gotten used to hearing such talk from one who looks so young. And I only did what was right."
"Lévis did what he thought was right, too."
"Mm, and he still is." Vaudreuil tipped his finger toward the window. "He's burning the regimental colours, since Amherst won't allow the honours of war."
That- That would explain the column of smoke rising over the courtyard. Matthieu bit his lip. "And the protections for the Acadians?"
"Rejected. I'm sorry I couldn't protect your cousins, just you." He took a sip of his wine, eyes on the rooftops outside. "You will have the rights of British citizens, and protection for the faith."
"The same as Quebec City, then."
"Very much so, yes." He pushed his chair back, but hesitated before standing. "Will you be coming to the gate, for the ceremony?"
"I don't have a choice."
"I'd be glad to make an excuse, arrange for General Amherst to meet you in your residence instead."
"Thank you, Pierre." He touched Vaudreuil's arm. "I know you mean well, but if there is one thing Francis taught me, it was to do my duty, and my duty is to be passed to the General just as the city is. Appearences must be maintained."
He nodded, patted Matthew's hand awkwardly.
"Besides," he said with a smile, "my brother's out there, and he wouldn't let me live it down."
~ ~ ~
May 1761 :: London, England
The ship glided up the Thames, giving Matthieu a good, long look at London - the docks swarming with workers, smoke rising from thousands of chimneys, the smell of sewage in the water.
He hadn't been here an hour, but Matthieu already hated it all.
He could see Arthur from the deck, his red coat bright among the homespun of the dock hands. There was a curricle waiting behind, one of the bay carriage horses prodding the cobblestone with its hoof. Not even the horses wanted to be there.
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"Welcome to Great Britain, Matthew."
"Matthieu."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Mon nom-" English, he had to speak English here. "My name is Matthieu."
"Well, at least the frog gave you something of an education. No matter, we'll work on that as well. If you'll follow me?"
He didn't want to, but it wasn't as if he had a choice. He let Arthur lead him back to the curricle as the crew loaded his chest onto the back, and lift him into the passenger seat. Arthur gave them a few coins, then hopped into the curricle and picked up the reins; a light flick on their sides set the horses moving.
Arthur drove with a light touch, neatly moving them around the slower carts and carriages. The curricle was so smooth that Matthieu could almost pretend that he was back home among his fir trees, looking up at the blue sky, his bear next to him-
"Matthew-"
Matthieu blinked, jerked out of his memories. "Matthieu."
"Matthieu. I asked you a question."
"I want to go home," he mumbled to his hands.
"Oh." Arthur glanced over, away. "Surely you've been to Europe before?"
"Once." He hesitated, but Arthur didn't interrupt. "I'd finally begun making money for the Crown, so Francis presented me to King Louis."
He turned the horses round a corner, toward the centre of the city. "Did you like Paris?"
"No. Francis sent me back on the first ship that could take me across the Atlantic."
"I see." He was silent for a while, and Matthieu was glad for it. "I'm sorry, lad. I can't send you back, not until a peace treaty is signed. But it shan't be horrible - I'll have the best governesses brought in, and you'll have company. Île Royale and Guadeloupe are already here, and Nova Scotia will visit next spring. You'll be treated the same way as any of my own colonies."
Matthieu pulled his coat close, and didn't reply.
~ ~ ~
19 February 1763 :: Paris, France :: after the signing of the Treaty of Paris
Matthieu hated this. He hated the diplomats who congratulated themselves on bringing an end to seven (nine, nine!) years of war. He hated the victory on Arthur's face and the relief on Francis'. He hated the woollen breeches a maid had stuffed him into. He hated Guadeloupe and Saint Lucia and Martinique for going back to France, and he hated Grenada and Tobago for not being upset that they were staying with Britain.
"We knew it was coming," Grenada had said that morning. "Why are you so surprised?"
So he stayed in a corner with Florida and Louisiana, playing string games one of Florida’s hair ribbons while the other colonies ate pastries and mingled. He tried not to listen for Francis' laugh, or the rhythm of his step, and concentrated on learning how to make a broom shape out of string.
He didn't hear Francis behind him until he was being swung onto Francis' hip.
Francis laughed at his wide eyes. "Hello to you too, kitten. My beauty," he said with a playful tug on Louisiana's hair. "Did you really think I'd leave without saying good-bye?"
Aveline shook her head, and Matthieu buried his face in Francis' neck.
He tutted. "Now now, little one. Madamoiselle, may I borrow your friends for a moment?"
Florida murmured something that could have been a yes; Matthieu heard the rustle of her skirts as she curtsied, walked away.
"Now." Francis detached Matthieu from his coat, set him on the floor despite his wriggling. "Why so dispirited, my little ones? You look as if our separation is the end of the world."
"It is," Matthieu mumbled, and Aveline nodded.
"We have to eat Arthur's cooking."
"Ah yes, a fate worse than death." He chuckled, took Aveline's hand. "But that's only when he visits, yes?"
"Yes, but..."
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Matthieu looked up at his big brother. "Do you promise?"
"I promise." He ruffled Matthieu's hair, squeezed Aveline's fingers. "I haven't seen you two lovelies have anything to eat tonight. Shall we get you some dessert?"
Matthieu & Aveline nodded, and let Francis lead them to the buffet.
When it was time to leave, Francis kissed their foreheads, and handed them into Arthur's carriage himself. Matthieu scrambled for the window seat, palm to the glass; and when Arthur's back was turned Francis gave him a wink, then walked back into the ballroom.
It'd be all right, he thought to himself as Arthur climbed in and settled Saint Vincent in his lap, Francis would make it right. All Matthieu had to do was wait.
~ ~ ~
Notes:
1689: Onondaga and Maliseet are two Native groups who lived (and still live) in the same "territory" as Canada. Since there were winters in Canada long before the French arrived, I assume the Native groups had their own agreements with Winter.
1760:
- Pierre Vaudreuil was the first - and last - Canadian-born governor-general of New France. He didn't exactly get along with General Montcalm, who was in charge of the defence of the colony during the Seven Years' War, and who died during the attack on Quebec City. (Ever seen the painting "The Death of General Wolfe"? Same battle.)
http://www.biographi.ca/009004-119.01-e.php?&id_nbr=2142
- After a series of battles that you probably don’t care about, the British first conquered Quebec City in September 1759, and Montreal - and therefore New France - in September 1760. In both cases, if the cities had managed to hold out just another couple weeks, the British would have had to retreat in the face of the incoming pack ice.
- Governor Vaudreuil had orders to fight the British (mostly American) soldiers to the last man, but surrendered Montreal instead. Ruined his career, but it meant the soldiers didn't burn the city & its inhabitants to the ground.
- The terms of surrender provided protections for the people of Canada, including their religion and property, but Major General Amherst refused to grant protection for the Acadians (who had been deported from their homes in Nova Scotia/Acadia for complicated reasons, many of whom ended up in Louisiana) or to give the military the honours of war. Instead of handing over the military flags, the Chevalier de Lévis burned the colours.
http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/index.cfm?PgNm=TCE&Params=A1ARTA0010703
http://www.canadiana.org/view/42695/0010
- Alfred would totally be part of any liberation of Canada, you know it. ;)
May 1761:
- Date is my guesstimate of when a ship would leave from Quebec and land in England once the pack ice left the Gulf of Saint Lawrence.
- England drives a curricle - a small, two-wheeled carriage suitable for young men with more money than sense.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curricle
- Great Britain conquered a hell of a lot more French & Spanish colonies during the Seven Years' War than just Canada - Grenada, St. Lucia, Cuba… And what better place to symbolically keep them than England's own house?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evolution_of_the_British_Empire
19 February 1763:
- The Treaty of Paris ended what most of the world calls the Seven Years War, and what the US calls the French & Indian War (one of several). The war started two years "early" in the North American colonies, hence Matthieu’s insistence on it being nine years of war.
- Canadians/Quebecers thought that France would take them back from Britain - if not in 1763, then the next war - and were minimally cooperative to the British. It meant lots of headaches for the colonial government, and lots of smashed hopes when the American Revolution rolled around.
- Louisiana was "taken" by Britain after the Treaty of Paris, but in a secret deal France gave most of Louisiana to Spain as compensation for Spain’s war losses. French residents of Louisiana were not happy, but Louisiana herself wouldn’t have known about it until after the Treaty was signed.
Thanks for reading, and concrit is awesome! :)
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The reason I found this was because I was very, very late in commenting on your parts 1-2. Then, lo' and behold I saw you had more up!
But yes, please make sure it's up on the Fills list. ^^
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I double-checked the fills list, and it was posted on page 152. I guess it's ye old end-of-page effect? ^^
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