In their colonies in the New World, England and France were on watch. Several of the colonists had reported seeing natives scout the village, so they needed to be on constant guard in case of attack.

Suddenly, they heard a rustling in the nearby bushes."Stop! Who goes there?" England shouted, and pointed his musket. France shone a torch in the direction. Out stepped a Native woman, with chestnut skin and dark hair, dressed in deerskins, her stomach was bloated and full, like it was about to pop. She was obviously pregnant.

"Peace, I am Lady North America." She seemed to be gasping for breath. She almost collapsed, but then France caught her.

"I've got you, ma cher." They helped her walk to England's cabin, it was the closest. Setting her down in bed, all they could do was wait.

The baby came out screaming into the world. He wriggled and writhed, raging against the fact that he had been taken from such a warm place. England cleaned the babe and cut the umbilical cord. Wrapped, he handed the child to North America. A look of perfect peace and contentment crossed her features.

"Tell me, England, what are the boys called where you are from?" Was she asking him to name her child?

"Well, a common name in recent years has been Alfred-"

"Alfred, Alfred, what do you say, little boy how does Alfred sound?" the newborn seemed to give a smile and hiccupped. "I'll take that as a yes. From now on, you shall be called Alfred Falcon."

"Falcon?' England blinked. She nodded.

"I was originally planning on naming him 'Little Falcon', but what you said seemed to fit him better." Suddenly, she groaned in pain again. Little Alfred started crying, so she handed him back to England.

"What's going on? I thought your contractions would be over, no?" France asked.

"It appears the Great Spirit has given me two children, instead of one." She grabbed France's hand and squeezed it tight. A few hours latter, another son was brought into the world. North America grew worried, as she didn't hear him screaming.

"Is it…" she swallowed a lump in her throat. She hated to think that this child was stillborn.

"No, ma cher, he is bonne." France said, holding up the quiet child. He had a little more hair than his brother, and was happily giggling. North America reached out her arms again.

"And France, what are the boys named in your country?" France gasped. He was being given the honor of-? He smiled.

"Well, zere are a few, but Mathieu is quite popular at ze moment." North America curled her finger around a piece of her child's hair.

"Mathieu…." She mused. Removing her finger, the little piece of hair stayed a bouncy curl. "What do you say, Mathieu?" the little boy giggled again. England handed Alfred back to North America, she held both her sons close.

"England, France, you have been so good to me, but I must ask you for one final favor."

"What is it?"

"Just name it, Mademoiselle, and it shall be done."

North America filled her eyes with her newborn sons before looking back up at the two countries. "I feel my time in this world is quickly coming to an end-"

"Nonsense," France shook his head.

"Don't spew such utter poppycock." England said.

"Indulge and old woman. I feel my time on this Earth has ended. The Great Spirit is calling me back to him. But before I go, I must ensure that my sons will be taken care of." She sniffled, as if to hold back tears. "So I ask you this. Care for my sons; treat them as if they were your own brothers. Please."

France and England looked at each other and nodded.

"We promise that we will care for Alfred and Mathieu." North America smiled.

"That's all I can ask." She placed a kiss to each of her son's foreheads. "Be good boys, Alfred and Mathieu. Care for your people, and be good brothers to France and England. And remember, I will always be watching over you." She handed her sons back to the two countries.

"I must go now," she said. Lying back into bed, the old nation started to fade.

"Wait, you can't just leave!" England said.

"Oui! We don't even know your name!" France said. The newborns started to cry, as if sensing what was happening to their mother.

North America smiled. "When you tell of me to my sons, use the name my own mother bestowed onto me… Dancing Leaf."

"Dancing… Leaf?" England asked. (Keep in mind that as European Nations, they were used to names like Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy.)

Then, North America's form started to fade, as if she were nothing more than a spider's web dissolving in the morning dew, until there was nothing left of the nation.

France and England looked at one another, then back to the newborns in their arms. They would keep their promise to North America. They would care for her sons.


And more than 260 years later, it was starting to be a hard promise to keep.

Alfred F. Jones was, by far, the most stuck up, illogical, and loud country that anyone had ever seen. He constantly drove everyone crazy, and England was thinking that even North America herself would have a hard time putting up with her own son.

Mathieu Williams, on the other hand, had grown up to be quiet, kind, and polite. He would have made his mother proud.

Unfortunately, only Mathieu even knew that the two even had a mother. Alfred had been so loud and hyper as a child (and was currently such an overactive man child) that England could never hold his attention long enough to tell him about the woman known as Dancing Leaf. Mathieu on the other had, the quiet child that he was, had sat in rapture as his Big Brother France told him all about her.

And it was a rather brutal game of catch that something rather approaching a miracle happened. Canada, as usual, was being beaten by America's brutal throws. When, suddenly, Mathieu heard something. A slight buzzing maybe, no...

"You hear that?" America said. His brother nodded. It was coming farther from the forrest.

What they found startled them both.

A Native American woman, dressed in deerskin clothes, was dancing, and humming some sort of chant. Her black braids swayed to her own beat, and Canada's eyes widened when he saw the eagle feather in her hair. She was beautiful, as if she was a part of nature itself. The woman stopped when she noticed them.

"Oh, hello Alfred, hello Mathieu, how have you been doing?" she asked, smiling. Alfred was wondering how she knew their names.

Mathieu was on the verge of tears, he had heard how Sir Roman Empire had come to visit Italy, but this? This was more than he could ever dream!

"Mere!" he yelled, running into her arms.

"What are you talking about?" America said, his head tilted to the side in confusion.

"You idiot! Don't you recognize your own mother?" Canada said, continuing to hug the woman, and smiling like a crazy person. America was struck dumb. He had a mother…? He had just assumed that countries just, you know, came into being. Suddenly, a vestigial and long-forgotten memory came to him.

Be good boys… Care for your people… I will always be watching over you…

He dropped the baseball. This was his…? She really was…? North America looked over to her first-born. She opened up her other arm. He ran to her.

"Mom!" he cried, practically glomping her. Dancing Leaf laughed at Alfred's… over eagerness. After holding them for what seemed an eternity, she stepped back.

"Here, let me get a good look at you." North America smiled. "Oh, how you two have grown up." She sniffled. "Then again, the last time you saw me, you were newborns."

"Mere, may I ask a question." Mathieu said, nervously.

"Of course, ma petit Mathieu,"

"W-why did you have to leave us?" he had his hand gripped into a fist. Her eyes saddened for a moment.

"You see, boys, the birth of a nation that comes from another nation is something that is rarely survived. Alfred, do you remember how you felt during your Civil War?"

"Yeah, felt like I was going to rip in half." His mother nodded.

"That's exactly what you would have done if the Confederacy had been able to hold out. Look at Czechoslovakia, she no longer exists after she gave birth to the twins, Czech Republic and Slovakia. They took up the land where she had been, leaving no room for her."

Alfred grit his teeth. "So you're saying… that we killed you?"

"Alfred-" his mother put her hand on his shoulder. He cringed at the contact. He was supposed to be the hero, damn it! He was supposed to save lives, not take them! "Alfred Falcon Jones." She said sternly.

Falcon? That was what the F in his name stood for?

"Listen, I know you must feel guilty about this, but my time on this earth was up anyhow. Besides," she took her two boys in her arms again. "If I had known what wonderful, proud and strong boys you two were going to grow up to be, I would have given my life willingly." America wrapped his arms around his mother, Canada did the same.

"Now, as to the point of my visit. When are you two going to give me grandchildren?" The brothers looked at each other in surprise.

"Uh-Uh-Uh Mother-" Canada stuttered.

Extended Ending.

"Now, don't get me wrong, you're good boys, but every parent wants grandchildren. Now, Mathieu, I realize that you haven't found the right girl yet, but Alfred," she turned her stern gaze on her eldest, "When are you going to stop dilly-dallying with that nice girl Rachel and get serious?"

"Rachel? You mean, Israel?" She nodded.

"Yes, her grandmother, Judea, is constantly asking me if you two have set a date for the wedding yet. Believe me, after more than forty years, it gets annoying."

"Mom-"

"And I know that you may have to be circumcised, after all she is Jewish. But come on, she's one attractive girl, isn't she?"

Alfred F. Jones' face turned bright red. Canada just snickered.