A/N: Little early Franada drabble. We're learning about the arrival of the Europeans in North America in my history lecture and I of course listened avidly as they talked about New France and France finding Canada. It's said that France, out of all of the other European nations involved in the 'New World' (the Dutch, the English, the Spanish and the Portuguese), had the best dealings with the Aboriginals who were already there and treated them the best, forming alliances with some and conducting beneficial trade with the others. And I thought that was great, because so many of the Native peoples were killed in both South and North America and to know that France of all people treated them the best is awesome.
And I love Papa France and little Canada so yeah... XP

July 1534

France walked through the leafy trees of the New World, pulling off his jacket, the temperature continuing to climb. This place was quite warm, and yet it was so green and full of fertility, untouched by Europeans. Francis breathed deeply as he tied his shoulder-length blond hair back into a low ponytail with a blue ribbon, laying his jacket in the crook of his arm.

Jacques Cartier, the explorer commissioned by his boss, le Roi Francois, had been commanded to bring along the French nation, though he of course had no idea who he was. His goal, as was stated by his boss, was originally to meet with the countries of the Orient as that was their original destination. But they had instead found this huge mass of land, largely unpopulated from what they could see. So they decided to explore this new world, perhaps the northern version of the land that Spain had found forty years before.

France wiped the sweat off of his brow as he continued to wander through the green forest, the ground dirt and soft. Was this a path? Francis felt in the waistband of his breeches for his pistol. Who know what sort of wild animals could lurk in this land?

Almost as soon as he thought this, he suddenly stepped into a huge, grass filled clearing. Mon dieu... Huge, long houses made of logs sat in the middle of the clearing, campfires sat around everywhere, animals wandered around freely and everywhere there were people.

Dark-skinned peoples with black hair, deerskin clothing and moccasins, uncouth at first glance and obviously lacking in the fashionable side of living. Francis gazed around in wonder, his mouth opening in surprise.

Were these the natives that inhabited this huge land? Women, men, children, old, young... There were so many. And they all seemed to be about some task, whether it was cooking, playing, tending to gardens filled with tall stalks of strange plants, or sharpening knives and making traps. A whole different society in this wild land...

That was when Francis saw him.

Running among the children, a small child with white skin dressed in a dress of pure, flowing white material. France's heart skipped a beat. Another nation? This was the embodiment of this huge piece of land that extended who knew how far into the west?

Francis made a step towards where the small nation was playing but he froze as, suddenly, every single individual in the village noticed his presence. He took a step back as the men gathered in front of the women and children, their stances defensive, some with knives in their hands.

"Ah...attendez!" France said, holding his hands out in front of him. "I can explain!" But they couldn't understand him of course. And would they listen to him even if they could have? Would they listen to his desire to raise this small nation as his own colony?

Francis was stumped for a second as the largest man started barking at him in some strange language. He stared at him blankly, his blue eyes blank. "Um..."

And then suddenly, pushing his way through the legs of the taller men was the small nation dressed in white. The natives tried to grab him and hold him back but he dodged them easily and came to stand a few feet from Francis, staring up at him seriously.

He had the most enchanting violet-blue eyes France had ever seen, big and wide and curious. He had soft-looking golden blond hair that fell in waves to just above his shoulders, one little curl stubbornly cascading down his forehead. Francis then noticed that there was a tiny white animal crawling after the little nation on four paws that looked suspiciously like a white bear.

"You are like me?" Francis knelt down in front of the smaller nation who had asked him the question in the language of the nations.

"Oui," Francis assented with a smile.

"Oui?" The nation asked with a small head tilt of confusion.

"It means yes in the language of my country," Francis explained. "I am called France." He held out his hand slowly for the little nation to shake. "Who are you?"

The little child looked at the hand offered to him and slowly put his smaller hand into the much bigger one. "They call me Kanata. Or Canada. Depending on which family you ask." Francis glanced at the natives who were glaring at him suspicously.

"There are other groups like them?" Canada nodded, his curl bobbing. "Lots!" He assented. He then frowned up at Francis.

"Why are you here? I've never seen anyone like you before..." He reached up slowly to take a piece of France's blond hair and rub it between his fingers. "Your hair is like mine..."

Francis was in love. He was so cute... "We are here exploring," he explained. "This is a new land for us." Canada nodded thoughtfully, withdrawing his hand.

"Canada..." France said gently, taking his small hands in his. "You are a nation. I would like to make you my colony so I can teach you all the things you need to know in order to become a strong country." He steadily looked into those beautiful violet-blue eyes that didn't lose their expression of openness and curiosity. So trusting...

"Will you come and live with me so I can teach you all of these things?" He asked softly. Canada stared at him for a few seconds before slowly nodding his head yes.

"As long as you promise to leave my families alone," he said, gesturing at the gathered natives behind him. Francis glanced up at them and then stood, straightening.

"Translate for me, mon cherie?" Francis asked. Canada looked puzzled at the term of endearment but he nodded. Francis directed his words to the natives as Canada translated for him.

"I promise that we shall both benefit from a relationship between our two peoples," he said, holding himself straight. "We do not look to rule, or settle here. Our main desire is trade and we ask your cooperation as we get ourselves established. We do not look for enmity, only friendship." The biggest man responded and France looked to Canada for a translation.

"He says that you must take care of the land," he said looking up at Francis with soft violet eyes. "Kanata," he said. "Canada. Or, me." Francis laughed and bent down suddenly, picking up the smaller nation from underneath his arms and swinging him around.

"Of course I shall," he said, holding the small nation close to his chest. He made a quick bow to the natives, storing their location away to tell Cartier later.

Canada had his arms around his neck and was clinging to him tightly. That Brit will be so jealous... Francis thought with a smirk as he made his way back to the expedition.

"France?" Canada asked softly in his ear. That was one thing about Canada's voice: though it wasn't timid or shy, it was quiet, always so quiet and soft-spoken. And so unbelievably trusting.

"Oui, mon cheri."

"What does mon cheri mean?"

Francis smiled. "My dear." Canada sighed happily.

"I always knew I should have been doing something else with myself all these years," he said, resting his head against Francis' shoulder. "Thank you for finding me, France." Francis suddenly felt a small, soft pair of lips against his cheeks and he felt himself blush, much to his chagrin.

"Thank you for coming with me," Francis answered with a smile.

"You won't ever leave me, right?" Canada snuggled closer to him and Francis wrapped his arms around the smaller nation protectively, his heart swelling with a strange feeling.

"Never," he said as they emerged from the trees and the ships came into view. "Jamais."

Translations

Jamais - Never

Kanata translates to 'village' or 'settlement' in the Mohawk language, where we think the name Canada stems from which was also in use by the Iroquois people.

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NOTE: Aboriginals, as has been pointed out, is commonly seen as the term used for the Aboriginal Australians. However, I am Canadian and the Native Peoples here are commonly known as Aboriginals, as well First Nations peoples. So, I am just using the term that was common to me. I did not mix them up with the Aboriginals of Australia which would be a grave mistake indeed :P