A/N: 10+ new story alerts, and 10+ new favourite story alerts? Wow, thank-you you guys!

Now, I'm going to say this: this chapter was crazy hard for me to write. Why? I'm not even sure why. If it's any consolation, where this chapter lacks, the 2nd part of this chapter later on will be better, I swear.

Also, I'm really sorry. It's impossible for me to avoid OC's and I'm trying hard to limit it, but you can't really do much if you need them within a story.

Another also: I swear to you, I've got the next chapter mostly done, and then the next three in progress, so expect more soon to make up for my sluggishness!

But enough rambling. Read on, dear reader. READ ON!

1869.

After the deaths of Heloise and Ross, there was Elliot.

He was the Métis boy of Rupert's Land; blue eyes like the water of the Red River, black hair like the breast of a raven, tanned skin like the soft leather of a bison hide.

"And untamed," Arthur had remarked years ago, "Full of potential but in a world of its own."

Matthew sighed. "I suppose your right," he answered. "But that'll change, won't it?"

"Perhaps."

These two voices, like a flame flickered in Elliot's head, speaking distantly, out of touch.

Elliot, at that time, not knowing English, marvelled at the men's words, moving his lips as he tried to mimic the sounds. He smiled, a giddy feeling rising inside of his chest. Another part of him grimaced and flinched. This was the start of a British takeover. His people would be assimilated into English speaking Canada and he would lose everything. He touched the cross around his neck. That wouldn't happen... would it?

He forced those thoughts back into the corner of his mind, and smiled once more.

The two men stood in front of him eyed him like one would inspect a dog. Upon Arthur's face was a look of displeasure. In truth, he was becoming a bit weary to this French conundrum that seeped its way onto British soil. Matthew looked also on, his emotions caught between pity and confusion.

"Maybe you'll beat the savage out of this one."

"...Maybe."

It was to be finalized that Rupert's Land would go to The Dominion of Canada.

But already Elliot was amidst other ideas.

A rebellion.

August.

When Elliot met Louis Riel, it was during his rally.

Riel spoke of the equality of French and English, the importance of Catholic values, and the fight for a voice against the Dominion of Canada. He was the leader the Métis needed now, a monument to the strength of the community. Even with the sun hanging high in the summer sky, and the mosquitoes in clouds biting away at their skin, the people listened eagerly. Elliot watched as they cheered at his feet, hailing him as a new hero.

Even Elliot was impressed.

After his speech, Elliot ran after Riel. "Monsieur Riel!" He called. "Monsieur Riel!"

Riel turned around.

"Excuse me, but your speech was very moving!" Elliot said politely, admiration seeping through his words.

A grin formed upon Riel's face. "Thank-you. I'm very glad it went over well."

"It was very good! You've inspired everyone!"

Riel snickered. "That's a mighty compliment, young man. What's your name?"

"Elliot, sir." Elliot beamed proudly.

The smile faded away. Riel eyed Elliot very carefully, surveying his face with some hint of recognition.

"Elliot, you say…" Riel asked quietly. He raised an eyebrow. "Where are your parents?"

Elliot looked down at his feet, awkwardly rocking on the balls of his heels. "I don't have any, monsieur."

"Surely you must've." There was a tone in the man's voice that suggested knowledge beyond the conversation. "A young… man such as yourself must have needed some sort of father figure to guide you…"

Elliot glanced back at Riel. "Just the local traders, I guess."

"Oh?"

"The Hudson Bay Company was always around, if that's what you mean."

Louis Riel's face dropped completely now, wrinkle lines scrunching between his eyebrows. He stared at the boy for a moment, as if examining every last possible crevice hidden behind the wide blue eyes that stared back at him. Then, suddenly, he smiled. "You're no stranger to me, Elliot. We're all family here." He laughed heartily, taking Elliot under one of his arms. "We Métis must stick together, no?"

Elliot grinned. "Of course."

1870.

Throughout the winter months, Elliot travelled with Riel.

He had been there when Louis Riel became the new leader of the Métis provisional government.

He had been there when it seemed that the Dominion of Canada and the Métis could get along.

And he had been there when they rounded up English conspirators near Fort Garry.

In fact, he had helped.

March 4th.

Elliot screamed amongst the cheering of the crowd.

At his feet were pieces of skull, his boots spattered with blood.

The body of a man lay near him, arms tied behind his back, his brains pouring out of his head like a cracked egg and its yolk. He seemed to look to Elliot with his remaining eye, his bloody mouth ajar, condemning the boy.

Elliot gagged, spilling out his stomach contents onto the ground.

There was something so unnaturally wrong with this.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be here."

Elliot jumped, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and turned around. "Monsieur Riel!"

"Elliot, you must go home."

"Why did you kill him?" Elliot asked.

Riel placed his hands on both of the boy's shoulders. His face was brooding and serious; the sweat on his brow glistened in the afternoon sun. "You are too young to understand this. I said go home."

"No!" Elliot persisted. "Why did you kill him?"

"We had to."

"But you had a choice!"

"We're under threat, Elliot." Riel answered, spinning Elliot to face him. "We have to show the government of Canada that we're stronger than this."

"But he didn't do anything wrong! You said that we'd only capture them! You never said that you were going to kill one!"

"One day, when we are all free, you'll understand what I did."

Riel let go, and shook his head. He brushed by, walking towards his log cabin.

"But y-you've killed a man!" Elliot exclaimed, chasing after Riel. Tears formed at the corners of his eye. He held up the necklace around his neck (a cross pendant Francis had given to him when he was still young) and screamed, "Doesn't this mean anything to you?"

Riel did not turn around.

Elliot fell to his knees, still clutching his cross. The feeling of uncertainty bubbled in his stomach. Was this what he really wanted for his people? Was this death justifiable in the eyes of God?

Distraught, he began to cry.

May 12th.

"It's been formalized!" Riel said, addressing a large crowd. "The Canadian government has met our demands! We shall become the province of Manitoba!"

The crowd celebrated; a roar of applause, whistling, and cheering echoed within a small log house in the settlement.

Elliot stood, facing towards the window, fiddling with his pendant.

He had a restless feeling, like an itch buried deep under his skin.

Something was going to happen very soon.

"Are you alright, Elliot?" Someone asked.

Elliot turned around and was face to face with Louis Riel. Startled, he mumbled a reply of 'I'm alright' before giving way to a forced smile.

"We did it." Riel said joyously, oblivious to the boy's waning attention. "Be happy. We are finally glorious and free!"

Elliot looked over to the window once more. The sun was sitting above the horizon, the sky aflame with red. "I suppose you're right." He answered softly, "We are free."

July 14th.

The sun was going down now, only a sliver remained above the horizon, outlining the forests of trees with a dusky mauve.

Elliot lit the lantern outside of his house. It seemed to offer some comfort into the twilight, shaking away some of the strange feelings that hung around him.

Perhaps it was just the nerves.

Elliot laughed, opening his front door. How silly of him. What nerves? It was nothing.

Yet, it obviously wasn't. This feeling hadn't gone away in months.

Then, he decided, it was just all in his mind. He was making himself sick thinking about it.

He took one last look outside.

There's nothing to-

In the distance he could see a shadow of a man riding upon a horse, slowly making his way across the long grass like a ship in the water. The two moved fluidly in the fading light, without fault.

Elliot became concerned, his skin crawling in fear. "Who's out there?" He shouted. "Come about!"

"Matthew Williams." The man said, stepping off his white horse. He held its reins as he continued to move towards the house, the grass sweeping against his knees.

Matthew Williams...

Matthew. Williams.

Who…?

"… Monsieur C-Canada!" Elliot exclaimed, sighing in relief as he rushed towards the man. "I'm so sorry, I should have known!"

This was the first time since the original proposition of the Dominion that he had seen Matthew.

"Please Elliot," Matthew said, his hand halting further apologies, "It's quite alright. I shouldn't have dropped by without notice, but I digress, this is of the utmost importance."

"I understand," Elliot answered, "You are a busy nation. You mustn't have the time for things like me."

Matthew did not answer. He hung his head low, and they walked the rest of the way to the house in silence.

After Matthew had tied his horse to the railing, Elliot ushered him inside.

"Pardon my mess." Elliot mumbled as he quickly swept away some papers from the table. "Would you like some tea?" He watched Matthew look around, almost absentmindedly. Elliot was sure that he wasn't listening. His mind definitely was somewhere else. "I'm sure I could find you something in one of these cabinets."

"Elliot," Matthew said bluntly. "Do you know what will happen tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, I become a province of The Dominion of Canada." Elliot replied nonchalantly. In truth, he was more frightened than anything.

"But do you know what will happen to you yourself?"

"I'm not really sure, Monsieur Williams sir." Elliot said. He looked away. "Suppose I'll just be around."

Matthew looked down, his blond hair covering his face as he bit his lip.

"Why?" Elliot was now concerned. "Is something else going to happen tomorrow?"

"Please don't be upset with me," Matthew whispered, "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news."

"You're not making sense."

"Elliot, this is the end." Matthew said, looking up with impenetrable sorrow. "Tomorrow, you'll be gone."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when the colony of Rupert's Land dissolves tomorrow…"

Elliot's mouth fell open. "No," He whispered. He stood up, his fists clenching. "That can't be right." Matthew must be joking; surly, he would find this sort of prank amusing.

"I'm so sorry, Elliot."

"No! You're lying!" Elliot screamed. "This can't be right! This can't be it!"

Matthew reached his hand to Elliot's shoulder. Elliot callously swatted it away. "Don't touch me!"

Elliot ran out the front door and ran towards the barn, mounting himself on the horse closest to him. Angry tears fell down his cheeks as he pulled on the reins, the creature whinnying loudly in response, rising up upon its two rear legs. Before he fled, he took one last look at Matthew, who now stood on the porch, framed by the lantern hanging by his face. The expression on his face was blank.

Matthew did not move.

He let them go sprinting off into the forest, becoming a dark pinpoint before disappearing completely into the night.

Elliot rode quickly, pushing Matthew... Canada... Britain... Riel... into the darkest part of his mind. He urged his horse faster, letting the force of the air wipe his tears away.

He was distraught, caught between the life of his people and his own. For them, he would die; an unsung hero, unknown to the very people he had loved. For once, just for this one moment, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to live on, to live a life he had been denied at the crossroad of the beginning.

He stopped by the river.

"I don't want to go." He sobbed bitterly, jumping off of his horse. "He can't make me, he can't!"

He looked at his reflection in a tiny inlet.

He felt so small now. So empty. So insignificant.

Like a single star swimming in an endless sky.

Elliot sat down upon the shore, facing the river.

"You'll always be my land." He whispered as he wept once more, the tears seeping into the rock bed. "This can't be the end."

"This won't be the end."

Notes:

-This was an INCREDIBLY hard chapter for me to write. If you see something wrong, don't hesitate to tell me!

-The North West Territories first belonged to France and then Britain, and then Britain was like, 'you want this, Canada?'.

-The Dominion of Canada sent out land surveyors to plot the land (since it belonged to the Hudson's Bay Company).

-The Métis (Half French-half First Nations)/French were mad that Canada would appoint an Anglophone to be the governor of the region.

-So the Métis created a provisional government, which then was eventually led by Louis Riel.

-Riel demanded reasonable things like representation and equal French status to the Dominion of Canada.

-He also had political prisoners (Essentially Canadian resistors), whom some escaped.

-Later on, he caught some of these prisoners near Fort Garry, especially Thomas Scott (the guy that was executed). He criticized the Métis government and then Louis Riel killed him to show Canada that the Métis would not back down.

-English Canada was horrified at this.

-Macdonald (the Prime Minister at the time) and George Etienne Cartier then negotiated with the Métis, and tada, The Manitoba Act of 1870, which included the creation of the province of Manitoba as well as giving rights to be taught in French and be catholic, and land claims to the Métis.

-However, English Canada was still kind of pissed, so then the Woseley Expedition happened (I didn't write about this. You'll understand later). It was a military force headed to Manitoba to place Canadian authority and (Wikipedia tells me) to lynch Riel. Riel then fled to the states and lived in exile there.

Ah, thank-you for reading, and please don't forget to review! :D.