Hello! It's actually been a while since I posted anything new, anybody who reads my other stories know that and I'm super sorry about it. Though I hope this makes up for it. At first, I didn't want to post this, But I thought why not I have to move forward if I want to progress. Though may I point out I'm not perfect, but I have a love for writing. Now moving on, I love reviews but I dislike flames as much as the next writer, So flames will be ignored. I hope you enjoy the story and this will be split into two chapters if the first chapter does well I'll upload the last. Have a good read!
This takes place after the battle of the plains of Abraham for all you who are confused, which was a 17 minute battle in which both generals were killed(French and English). For the fight of who got (what would later become modern day Canada) so for recap this was the battle for who gained control of Canada and to be clear it was the English.
Francis Bonnefoy walked along the muddy path, his boots dragging along, sloshing in the puddles of water. He was returning home from battle; defeated and beaten. Such a short battle had determined such important things. For the second time, in his very long life he felt his heart ache painfully.
By this time tomorrow Mathieu would be sent to live with England.
He had promised Mathieu, that he would win, come back victorious and they would spend the rest of the short time with Mathieu. Now, his time was much shorter.
He continued on through the rain, pushing forward past the physical pain. He would not rest until he had arrived to his household. He turned left, making his way down a familiar route. In the distance a small cottage could be seen, it wasn't fancy like his other homes.
When he arrived back, it was deep into the night hours. Opening the door, he slipped off his muddy boots and untied his hair, had it been any other time, he would have changed immediately.
But this was not every other time, this was the last night he would have with Mathieu . He for once, could care less for his appearance, making his way up the stairs, Francis carefully avoided the creaky boards and went up to Mathieu's room.
He opened the door and as quietly as he could, made his way to the bed. Mathieu's little figure was curled up in the sheets, his bear clutched in his tiny arms. Francis sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Mathieu's locks
He felt tired and drained but England would be coming round in a few hours to collect Mathieu. He would spend every last minute with him until that time. As he sat there he thought back of when he had found Mathieu.
The little boy he found curled underneath a pine tree, had changed him. When he had first found Mathieu he immediately assumed that the boy was America, it wasn't until the boy had opened his violet eyes, that he knew that this boy was not him.
Francis trudged through the thick snow; the wetness going straight to his toes. It was just his luck to be caught in a snowstorm. He had gone out to collect firewood for his dinner, the sky was A dark grey when he left but he thought little of it.
He was regretting his decision. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at his surroundings. Many pine trees were around Him, the dark green branches covered with snow.
He diverted from his path and pushed past the thick branches of the pine tree, he pulled his coat closer and huddled against the base of the trunk.
He leaned against the tree for a few moments, catching his breath and once he felt a little warmer, he took a deep breath and was about to step out and brave the cold. Until he heard the sound of a whimper. He turned and looked around.
Under the tree, a small child was curled by the base of the tree trunk, a little white bear was tucked into his arms. When the boy noticed him, he jumped back in fright, clutching the trunk of the tree in a death grip. He was sure that this boy was a nation, for how could he withstand the harsh winter temperatures if he was not. Slowly France moved closer the small child, trying not to frighten him. He put his hands in front so the boy could see them.
"I mean you no harm little one," he said softly. The child said nothing, turning his head away from the stranger he looked at the snowy ground. But he made no move to run he sat there quietly, only his breathing could be heard.
France smiled at the boy, he is a quiet one he mused silently. When he had finally made it closer to the boy, he sat for a moment taking in his features. Unlike his brother, he had long wavy blond hair. He had a pudgy baby face, he was young then. He wore a white nightgown; it was pure white much like the snow.
This boy is definitely my little brother, he has my sexy hair… He thought.
The little boy finally looked up at him, he stared at him for a good minute, before ducking his head again. While the child was adorable, he would rather not see him sick.
Sticking out his hand, he offered it. "Little one, my name is Francis Bonnefoy. I mean you no harm, I only wish to see you safe and warm. Would you like to come back with me to my camp?" he spoke slowly and softly.
The little boy stared at the hand, biting his lip he shifted a little bit. Francis waited patiently, knowing that if he rushed the child, he could scare him.
The child opened his mouth and Francis waited with baited breath to hear his voice, but then the boy snapped shut his mouth and shook his head. He pulled the bear in arms up to his mouth and whispered with it.
Francis smiled, he was just so adorable. After a few minutes, the child sat the bear back down on his lap.
Francis had put his hand down and rested it on his knee, he smiled at the boy again, hoping to encourage him.
When the boy finally spoke it was in a whisper.
"I" he pointed to himself, " go" he paused, "with you" he pointed at Francis. Francis stuck his hand back out to the child.
The little boy took his hand; It was so tiny and so fragile. Francis stood and picking the little boy up, he cradled him in his arms. "Little one, I am going carry you back to camp, I don't want your feet to get cold" the little child's violet eyes looked up at him, he nodded slowly. Francis smiled down at him. Through the snow he walked, he had taken off his jacket and swaddled the child in it.
The boy clung on to his shirt and had fallen asleep. For the first time in a long time, Francis felt complete.
Not now, though….
Francis sat for a moment longer, then when the first rays broke through the night sky, he exited and made his way to his room.
He dressed himself in new, cleaner clothes and brushed back his hair, tying it back with a blue ribbon. He adjusted his hair a little bit, then gave up, finding that he would not be satisfied.
When he walked out of his bedroom door, he felt something latch onto his leg. Matthieu held his papa's leg tightly and Francis couldn't help the laugh that escaped throat.
"Bonjour Papa!" said Mathieu cheerfully. The little boy had let go of his leg now, and now stood by his side, staring at France in glee.
"Bonjour Matthieu! How did you sleep?" Francis asked.
"I slept well, I had a dream, but I can't remember it" he said quietly, a small frown forming on his cute face.
Francis patted his head, "I'm sure it was a wonderful dream"
"How about we go down to the kitchen?" He asked, though he had no inkling as to what he would make. Matthieu nodded happily and took off down the hallway to the staircase. Francis followed close behind him content to just watch.
Once in the kitchen, Francis set Mathieu on his chair, then proceeded to pull together breakfast.
He decided on crepes.
While he made breakfast Mathieu talked about his findings in the forest.
He nodded and made comments, though he found himself strangely numb.
He knew why, their time was dwindling.
As soon as they finished breakfast, Francis decided to get Mathieu dressed.
He prepared Mathieu, brushing his shoulder length hair and tying it with a blue ribbon. He smiled sadly; this would likely be the last he brushed his little one's hair. Mathieu giggled the whole time and spoke quietly yet rapidly to his Papa. Francis remained silent, not saying anything, he just couldn't. He hoped his silence would not peak Mathieu's concern, however his little brother knew him too well.
"Why are you sad papa?" Mathieu questioned. "You do not have to be sad, Kuma and I will cheer you up" he declared happily. Mathieu hopped out of his seat and grabbed his Papa's finger indicating Francis to stand and follow.
And though he wanted to say no he couldn't deny his son. So he followed him through the house and up the stairs until they stopped at Mathieu's room.
"Wait here papa, I will go get it. Don't go anywhere" Matthieu said as disappeared into to his room.
Francis let out a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Bringing his hand up, he ran his fingers through his hair. He had never wanted this… He wondered why this affected him so much, he had given up colonies before, his favorite was Mathieu, the child had wormed his way into his heart. Mathieu always so happy, cheerful and selfless. It hurt, so deeply. This was a child he had cared for and raised, he had found Mathieu and he was giving him up.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Sneak peak:
"Do not draw this out, Francis. Leave, let me deal with the child"
"I promised him-"
"Do not make promises you can't keep, you are a nation Francis, you know as well as I that promises are as flimsy as promise is ever fully kept. He is a nation, he will learn in time the truth of your actions. You seem to be having more trouble than he at accepting this. Leave. This is the only time I am doing something for your benefit. Leave and make this easier for yourself"