Prussia winced. That was not a good way to experience your first major battle wound, alone and without another of your kind near to help you.

Meanwhile, England was feeling guilty. He turned to face Canada, but wouldn't meet his former colony's eyes. "Listen, lad, I'm sor-"

He didn't get to finish his apology before Canada hugged him. "I know you really didn't mean it, Dad. You were just obsessed with grabbing all the land you could and expanding your empire."

England was glad that Canada didn't blame him anymore, but his reasoning didn't make England feel any better. He really should have stopped to consider the effects it would have had on the young colony.

Unaware of England inner turmoil, France was chastising Canada. "If you had stayed in the house like I had asked you to, you wouldn't have been in as much danger. Really, what were you thinking, standing so near the place where the British would first enter."

Canada shrugged. "Either way, I would have been hurt no matter where I was in Quebec."

"That's not the point!"

"Ladies!" Alfred stepped between his brother and step-father. "Save your argument for later. The memories are continuing."

Matthew dreamed. He wasn't sure what was going on outside the walls, save for the small bits and pieces that floated through his unconsciousness. Even in his dreams, he couldn't shake the pain that throbbed in his shoulder. Memories swirled past him in a blur, only some of them clear enough for him to see, before a vision came to the forefront of his conscious.

Matthew was little again, about three years old. He sat next to his brother and mother around a campfire, watching the stars in the sky. The flickering firelight illuminated their faces, basking them a warm glow that highlighted every feature.

"Mother," Matthew whispered. "You do not look well."

He looked across the fire to where Native America sat on a log next to Alfred. Indeed, she was looking a bit sickly, though not as bad as when Francis had discovered Matthew. Her face was pale and slightly gaunt, like she had just gotten over a bad illness.

"Why does she look so terrible?" asked Italy, unaware of Germany trying to shush him.

"It's because she was rapidly losing her territory. Technically, in this memory, America already belonged to England, but they two hadn't met yet."

Italy made a small 'o' of understanding.

"I am fine, Matthew." she gave him a soft smile. "But thank you for asking."

Native America brushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear and changed the subject. "It's late, you boys must be tired."

Alfred shook his head rapidly, causing the feathers braided in his hair to whip back and forth. "We're not tired." Just then he yawned and looked sheepish. "Okay, maybe just a little."

England rolled his eyes. So typically America.

Matthew grinned and blinked sleepily. "Will you tell us a story?" He stood and walked around the fire to sit on the log on Native America's other side. "Please."

"Alright." Native America pulled both boys onto her lap and looked at both of them. "What story would you like me to tell tonight?"

"Oh!" Alfred bounced a little on her knee. "Can you tell us about the men that landed on my shores?"

Native America smiled. "I don't know much about them, but I do know that the man's name is Arthur and he will be your new big brother, Alfred."

Alfred frowned. "But I have a big brother already. His name is Matthew and he's sitting next to you." his eyes widened. "You can see him, right? I'm not imagining him?"

Everyone watching burst out into much-needed laughter.

"Honestly, America. Did you think Canada was a figment of your imagination all this time, aru?" China asked, doubled over in laughter.

Native America laughed. "Yes, Alfred, I can see him. And Matthew will not be your only big brother. It is possible to have more than one brother."

"Yeah, Al. I once had three big brothers." Matthew turned to Native America. "Do you think the men know my storebrors?"

"I do not know, child."

Matthew sighed and looked down. It had been so long since he'd seen the three Vikings, he was starting to doubt that they would ever come back. Native America, noticing her son's sadness, put a hand under Matthew's chin and tilted it up so he looked at her. "I'm sure you will see them again, Matthew."

"Not for centuries." grumbled Canada under his breath, but the Nordics seemed to understand his feelings, because they winced.

Despite her reassurances, Matthew shifted uncomfortably in the breeze. The night was cool for spring and he burrowed closer to his mother's warmth. After a moment, Native America spoke again. "I cannot tell you any more of the pale men. I am sorry, but that is all I know."

"That's alright, Mother." Alfred said. "Could you tell us another story?"

Native America smiled at her two boys and told the stories of their people until Matthew's eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

oO0Oo

The memory changed. The sounds of swords clanging against one another were the first sounds to be heard. The memory cleared and the nations could see the Vikings sparing with Matthew.

Matthew was dressed differently than in the last memory. He wore a red tunic with a fur vest over top and brown pants that were held up by a length of rope around his waist.

"Very good, Matthew!" Mathias chuckled. "A few more years, and you might be mediocre."

"Denmark!" said Finland, shocked. "That's not what you say to a child learning a new skill. He's going to be discouraged."

Matthew stuck his tongue out at the older man and swung the sword down hard on the Vikings own sword. The jarring of the weapon was so unexpected that Mathias dropped the sword and it clattered to the ground.

"Never mind."

Lukas let out a bark of laughter. "So arrogant, Mathias. See where it got you this time?"

Grumbling, Mathias picked his sword up from where it lay in the dirt and stomped off to the side of the makeshift arena. "I only lost because I used a sword, not my axe."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate." said Australia, grinning. "The Canada I know excels at weapons."

Canada blushed and buried his face in Mr. Kumajiro's fur. "Australia! There goes my reputation as a peacekeeping country."

"Sorry." said Australia, not sounding very sorry at all.

"Sure." Lukas scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Berwald let out a low chuckle. "I think that's enough sword practice for today."

"Aw!" Matthew pouted. "But-"

"He's right, Matthew." Lukas said. "It's getting dark and you've been fighting for hours already."

Matthew still protesting loudly, Mathias picked the small colony up and held him against his sweat-soaked chest. "Come on, Lille Bjørn. It's time for bed. Although," Mathias said with a small chuckle. "We might want to go take a bath in a stream before going back to camp. I don't think the other men would let us into the camp in our state."

Lukas laughed. "If there's one thing I will ever agree with you on, it's that you stink."

"Gee, thanks."

The nations watching were glad to have several happy memories to push away the terrible scene they had witnessed during the Siege of Quebec.

Berwald let out a laugh that had become more common since discovering Matthew. Joining in with their fellow Viking, Mathias and Lukas started walking down the path towards the sound of running water, all the while holding onto the struggling colony. Matthew twisted in Mathias's arms to look back at the sword arena. "Storebrors." he said, turning back to face the front. "Will you stay with me forever?"

"Sure." Mathias pushed Matthew's sweaty hair from his forehead. "We'll always be with you."

Denmark winced. He had wondered how had Matthew still harboured hope that they would come centuries later, and now he knew it was because of all the empty promises they had made him.

oO0Oo

Matthew blinked groggily and sat up. He immediately regretted the action when the wound in his shoulder gave a throb. Letting out a cry, Matthew clutched his wrapped shoulder.

"Ouch, Birdie. That doesn't look good." Prussia said, referring to the white bandage stained with crimson blood that was wrapped around his shoulder.

"It certainly didn't feel good." agreed Canada.

"Papa?" he croaked.

Hands appeared in his vision and held a ladle of water to his lips, from which he drank gratefully. "Papa?" he asked again in a stronger voice.

"Hush." Francis's face appeared out of the foggy edges of Matthew's vision. "I'm here."

Matthew realized that the wetness on his face wasn't just sweat, but tears were brimming in his eyes, though he didn't know if they were from the pain or from the memories he'd just seen. Trying to distract himself, he looked around the room. With a start, he realized that they weren't in their house. In fact, the room didn't look like the interior of any of the houses he'd seen in Quebec.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, he began to notice more troubling things. Francis looked exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in days and there were several more people lying in cots spread across the room, wrapped in bandages and being tended to by nurses. "Where are we?" Matthew asked, slightly scared of the answer Francis would give.

"Montreal."

"And Quebec?"

"Perdu à l'Anglais." Francis spat out the words like they were poison in his mouth.

Matthew hardly dared ask, fearing the answer he already knew. "Is Jacques…?"

Francis shook his head sadly. "No one saw him after the battle. We can only assume that he's gone."

Italy burst into tears and clutched onto Germany.

Matthew felt numb. His first human friend, the only one who hadn't questioned why he aged slower than everyone else and why he was strange, was dead.

Francis reached over and brushed a tear that Matthew hadn't noticed had fallen, off his cheek. "It will be okay, Matthieu. Arthur will pay for what he's done. He'll have to pry you from my dead body. I will never give you up."

Please review if you want me to continue with this story. It will follow Canada from when he was discovered to the present. I will warn you though. I'm Canadian, so the information here is what was in my history textbook and might be a little biased, but I will try my best to not favour one side over another. Many thanks for reading!