"Engarde! Vous ne serez jamaisme vaincre! Je suisl'invincibleQuébec!" Cried three year old Rachelle Williams, in a low voice. Today she was spending the day with her Granpapa because her papa was busy helping Uncle Alfie with something.
"Oh no! You 'it me! I y'am dead!" At the moment she was playing some kind of revolutionary war game in his attic, and had just pretended to shoot her granpapa with a toy gun. He was currently on the floor, "dead", while she was victorious in her little box fort.
"Granpapa, I'm hung'y." Rae whispered suddenly dropping the gun on the floor. As she walked over to the ladder, she tripped. Francis rushed over to the small girl.
"Ma chere, are you all right?" he asked slightly panicked. When her papa had been three, he had cried at the slightest things, and Matthew would be very upset if Rae had hurt herself on Francis' watch. Instead, the little girl sat up and looked at what she had tripped over.
"Granpapa, why is there a dress in your attic?" she asked, barely audible. In her hand she was holding up a slightly dusty, frilly, pink dress. The French country smiled.
"Why don't we do out for lunch and I'll tell you a little story."
As Rae ate her smoked meat sandwich, her granpapa watched her curiously. 'Elleest vraiment commeson papa. Mêmes yeux,mêmecheveux. Mêmevoix douce.' He thought. When she finished, she looked up at the Frenchman with wide eyes. "Oui. L'histoire. Come sit next to me, ma chere. A long long time ago…"
*** (the story he tells her is called "Sugar and Spice" Written by Azumizai. Illustrated by hetalia-canada-dj. I take no ownership.)
When he finished his story, Francis looked down and saw his petite-fille had fallen asleep and had her head on his lap. 'Une autre chose que Matthew avait fait comme un enfant.' As he scooped up the young French-Canadian, she mumbled something that couldn't help but make her granpapa smile.
"Granpapa, est papa une fille?"
"Non, ma chere. Ton papa est un garçon.Je devrais le savoir. J'ai donné son bain quand il avait ton âge."
"Suis-je une fille?"
"Oui, mon cher. Tu es une belle petite fille."
"Bien.Puis-je porter la robe?" that idea made the Frenchman smile mischievously.
"Après nous le laver. Il a été dans le grenier pour des millions d'années."
***a few hours later***
"Papa. I'm here to pick up Rae." Matthew said as he knock on the door, unsure his father heard him. After a moment the door swung open to reveal France.
"Come in, Matte" The Canadian did so, and sat on the couch in the living room. He looked around, curiously.
"Where is Rachelle?" The older man smiled
"She is just getting changed." He said casually. The other man looked at him curiously.
"Changed? Did she spill her apple juice?"
"Something like that." Just then, Rae came bounding down the stairs.
"Look, Papa! I'm in your dress!" she giggled.
"And it fits you perfectly, chere." Francis chuckled.
"What is my daughter wearing?" Matt asked darkly. If you looked closely you could see an aura of pure fury. Big countries are scary.
"I'm in a dress, papa. Granpapa France said it was yours." She said weakly. Her father's grimace quickly turned to a warm smile.
"Yes, and you look lovely. Where did you find that?"
"The attic!" she exclaimed, suddenly exited.
"I'm surprised you still had it papa. Can we keep it?" The Canadian said as he scooped up his chipper daughter.
"That was my intention."
"C'mon Rae-Rae. Let's show uncle your pretty new dress. Bye papa."