A/N: Just a cute little fic since I decided to work on my New Caledonia OC's profile for Nano this year. Set in 1843, not long after French missionaries lay claim to the main island.
...
England snorted as he read through the letter that Wales had just handed him,
"Why the bloody hell does the frog want to visit?" he asked waspishly. Wales just shrugged,
"You're asking the wrong person here. I'm just the messenger." He replied with a long-suffering sigh. England glared at the note again, as if there was some way he could make the frog's intentions clear from what he'd written. Finding seemingly no reason for it, he looked up to Wales again,
"Go get... the oldest of the brats. No doubt it's something to do with him." Wales opened his mouth to say something then shut it again. There was no point in getting England to start screaming at him,
"Will do." He said, letting himself out of his brother's study, grateful that nothing had set the empire off... yet.
...
Scotland grinned as he saw the little dove that France often used to send him notes directly. He let the little bird land on his hand, petting it before taking the paper off its leg. The dove nibbled affectionately on his finger as it hopped off the Scotsman's hand and onto the table instead. Scotland read through the note, his impressive eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he read through it:
Mon cher Ecosse,
I hope this note finds you well, I know that living with Angleterre must be driving you mad by now. I have something that I need to discuss with you on my return to Europe. I have sent a letter to Angleterre that he ought to have received by now so that I can meet with you.
I will be landing in Dover tomorrow, so I will see you then.
All my love,
France.
"Whit's he gone and done now?" he muttered to himself, re-reading the note and only confusing himself further. Eventually Scotland laid the paper on the table and shook his head; he'd probably be best waiting to ask France directly. He let the dove back up onto his hand again,
"Ah well, I'll find oot whit yer master wants in the mornin'." He said as he petted the bird again. The dove cooed at the attention, shaking itself as Scotland lead it to a perch with some water and seed, "Ye might as well stay the night, I'll hand ye back o'er tae France when I meet wi' him." Scotland sighed as he made his way to the cabinet and poured himself a glass of whisky before retiring to bed.
...
Scotland and Wales watched their younger brother warily as he paced around the room. Canada was kneeling on the chair and looking out of the window, kicking his feet absentmindedly as he kept an eye out for France's carriage. The atmosphere was getting more and more tense as the seconds ticked by, the adults remaining silent while the only colony in the room hummed quietly under his breath. Finally Canada leaned forward, his face beaming,
"That's papa's carriage!" He announced excitedly, earning him a stern look from England,
"Canada, restrain yourself." He snapped, "I will not have you behaving like this in front of guests." Canada got down from the chair and looked at his shoes,
"Sorry England." He muttered. Scotland glared at his brother as he motioned for Canada to come and sit next to him. England returned the glare tenfold, but before either nation could say anything as there was a knock on the front door. Wales got up,
"I'll go and get that," he offered, "Canada, make sure these two don't kill each other." He sighed as he left the room. Canada nodded,
"I will uncle Wales." He said. England snorted derisively as he sat on his chair, waiting for Wales to come back with France in tow. Scotland merely sighed and sent Canada a smile instead, which the colony returned. Eventually Wales appeared at the door again, standing aside to let France walk in. The blonde nation beamed as he walked in,
"Well this is a nice reception." He noted sardonically, seeing England sitting in his chair. Canada, deciding that he didn't care about the spanking England was going to dish out later, leapt up from his seat and hugged France solidly around the waist,
"Papa, je vous ai manqué!" he exclaimed, burying his head into France's coat. France looked down at his former colony in surprise at first, but then returned the hug,
"Ah, mon petit Canada, vous êtes développé si grand!" he exclaimed, pushing the colony away from him a little so he could get a better look at him. England silently glared at them for a moment before clearing his throat. France looked up,
"Oui, Angleterre?" France asked snippily, "What is it?" England leaned further into his seat,
"I do hate to interrupt family reunions, but I would like to know exactly why you're here." He replied. Scotland took the opportunity to pipe up,
"I wis kind of wonderin' aboot that masel'." He admitted. France turned and beamed at his former ally,
"Just give me a moment." He said cryptically as he flounced out of the room again. England raised an eyebrow at the behaviour; France hadn't behaved like this since at least the 13th century. Scotland was just as confused,
"Whit's gotten intae him a' the sudden?" he asked. England shook his head,
"How should I know?" he asked. Scotland was about to reply when France came back into the room. England's eyes went wide, causing Scotland to wheel around and come face to face with a small child wearing a white smock cradled gingerly in the French man's arms. Canada craned his neck to get a better look,
"Papa, who is that?" he asked. France beamed down at his former colony,
"This is your little sister, Nouvelle-Caledonie." He replied, kneeling down to let Canada get a better look at the tiny colony. England stared at the little bundle, his mouth hung open, while Scotland blinked,
"Wh... whit wis the name?" he asked. France looked up at him with a slight chuckle, before obliging the request,
"Nouvelle-Caledonie." He repeated, his already wide grin widening even more as Scotland stumbled back to the sofa, guided by Wales. England spluttered for a moment before finding his voice,
"You named a colony after him?" he exclaimed, glaring first at France, then at Scotland. France looked over to England with a glare,
"Keep your voice down." He hissed, nodding to the little colony he had handed to Canada to hold, "And what is it to you anyway?" he added. England snorted,
"I would have thought you had better taste." He sniffed. Scotland glared at England,
"And whit's the matter wi' the name?" he asked. England looked to his brother with a sneer,
"I thought you hated that particular name?" he noted. Scotland snorted,
"It sounds a hell of a lot better than 'New Scotland' does." He retorted. France, sensing an argument, motioned for Canada to hand the little colony back and turned to Scotland,
"Here, you might as well get the chance to 'old her before we get kicked back out." He sighed. Scotland blinked, his train of thought temporarily de-railed,
"Eh? But... why? " He asked. France chuckled,
"Well she is technically your daughter." He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In the background, England choked as Wales, in a fit of sensibility, guided his younger brother and Canada out of the room before either of them caused any trouble. Scotland stared at France for a few moments before looking at the bundle France was still holding in his arms,
"Ye...ye're serious?" he whispered, his voice going hoarse already. France handed the bundle to Scotland, which squirmed a little, but quickly settled back down,
"Oui," he confirmed, "She was named for you on the maps anyway, and I cannot think of a better person for her to grow up looking up to." He said, smiling down at the bundle. Scotland pulled the blanket wrapped around the little colony back and was greeted by the biggest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. The baby colony gurgled as Scotland stared into them, his own eyes tearing up,
"She's gorgeous." He breathed, rocking the colony gently. France beamed at the sight, something about the scene just seemed right. He nodded,
"Oui, she is." He confirmed, "I was not expecting to find her so easily, but she was laid out all alone in the middle of an abandoned village." Scotland looked up to France again with a frown,
"Really, that seems kind of odd." He noted. France nodded,
"I do not know why the village was abandoned, but I was not going to leave her there, especially after I figured out what she was." He said, stroking the child's cheek, earning the French nation a happy gurgle. Scotland looked back down to the tiny colony,
"Well, at least she's got you tae look aifter her now." He said quietly. France shook his head and laid a hand on Scotland's
"Non mon cher, she 'as us." He reminded the Celtic nation. Scotland thought about it for a moment, and nodded with a soft smile,
"Aye, us. I like the sound o' that." He admitted. He gently manoeuvred the child so he could cradle her in one arm as he wrapped his free arm around the blonde nation and hugged him. The little family stayed as they were for some time. At least until England's colonies invaded the room after Canada told them all what was going on. Scotland laughed as he and France were inundated with questions from curious children. It looked like New Caledonia was going to be growing up with quite the extended family, and Scotland couldn't have wished for anything less.