I Am Canada (A Hetalia Fanfic)

1812: Help From the Natives

I'm just gonna get the boring technical stuff over with right at the beginning.

Around the early 1800's, trouble was brewing in Europe. Big surprise. Not really. In a simple explanation, France and Britain were fighting again and were using their naval powers to create a trading blockade, and that also caused Britain to halt American ships from trading as well. America didn't like that very much.

So, after a few years of pent up anger, America decided to invade Canada as revenge against Britain for being such a bloody wanker and because they felt that Britain was supporting First Nation in her attempts to halt American expansion. That, and some Americans thought that an invasion would be welcomed by the Canadians, like back in 1775.

When the American bosses got to talking about where to invade, they found problems. The Atlantic colonies were left out simply because, well, Britain's navy was nothing to sneeze at. Lower Canada was also a no-no because of the stronghold of Québec.

That left Upper Canada, which they thought would be the least amount of trouble. Unfortunately for the Americans, fortunately for the Canadians, Ontario was more ready than they expected despite being young and less experienced than his brothers and sisters...and it was all because of the allies that had been made before.

First Nation sits in front of her longhouse, humming a tune as she weaves a new basket in her lap. The livelihood of her people sound around her like a choir, soothing her troubled thoughts. Every now and then, her dark eyes flicker upwards to outside her home. She knows that it won't be long now.

Sure enough, a call rings out from one of the men watching the border. She looks up, setting aside her work as she gets to her feet and takes a deep breath. She doesn't move from her spot, watching and waiting as she hears the oncoming footsteps of her men.

The warriors appear in her sight line, flanking both Britain and Ontario. Seeing them next to each other, she's struck by how much they look like brothers. They have the same eyebrows, the same eyes...although Ontario's hair is less unkempt.

"Greetings," she says as they come to a stop in front of her. She glances to her men. "Leave us. I will call if help is needed."

They bow their heads and leave the Englishmen with their leader. She rests a hand on her hip and eyes them, scrutinizing their moods and attempting to guess just why they're here. Of course, it doesn't take much. Britain stands as tall as he can, shoulders stiff and rigid, eyebrows and face creased with stress and anger. Ontario has the same sort of annoyance plastered across his face, although he looks more sheepish and less, well, mature than his older brother.

It's about America.

"I'm sure you've heard about America," Britain starts.

She hides a smirk. I knew it.

"Yes, he's giving you trouble again, Arthur?" she inquires.

"Much, yes. I want to discuss the chance of—"

"Not here," she utters, raising her hand and silencing him. "Please, inside will be a lot more private."

She turns to the door to her home and opens it, gesturing for the men to follow. Britain hurries forwards and holds the door open for her, still not smiling. She nods at him in thanks before entering, disappearing into the home. Ontario sighs and shuffles closer, almost feeling his brother's eyes fall on him.