I was shocked to receive reviews on an update to this fic. At all. Let alone so quickly after posting. Thank you everyone. I'm so humbled and will do replies at the end of the chapter post-historical notes time. This may be a biweekly update fic for a while. At the least one chapter a week, but I had a surge of muse so here we are!
"Will it be enough?" The question was asked in a low tone of voice, one which demanded an answer. Canada glanced up from where he stood off to the side, watching and listening, but not really a part of the discussions taking place. He might as well be a ghost. No one looked at him or paid him any mind. The silence stretched on and as he began to worry about whether or not England would be forced to repeat himself, an officer spoke up.
"Sir, we believe so. Based on the information we received from 'Mrs. Barnes' there should be plenty of time yet to fortify the city for their land artillery but there is still the matter to discuss of the sea." Canada flinched, shoulders bunching up in fear of the potential fallout from discussing failures of the naval forces. He glanced up to watch England's face, expecting his eyes to darken in ire at the insult he'd suffered from America's alliance with the French. Rumors of the battle along the Capes had been floating amongst the officers for days now but it was the first time it'd actually been brought up in front of England.
How would he handle it? Apparently, better than Canada had given him credit for. He lifted one hand off of the table they all stood over and gestured for the officer to continue. "The French forces are keeping Admiral Graves locked out of the city while they advance. It's tit for tat with them losing time on land while the same tactics are applied to us in the water."
England stared at the map and the figurines atop it. There were the ships positioned at the Chesapeake Bay, another set of human shaped ones near to Yorktown and another set that had been making their way south from Philadelphia for nearly a week now. He could only throw so many men at the problem before a more drastic action would be taken.
"Leave us." His command was issued and while one of the older men opened his mouth to speak, the officer who had briefed them on the naval situation reached a hand out and stopped him. Canada turned to leave with the others, "Not you Matthew." A chill rushed down his spine at being addressed by his human name. One of the soldiers paused and looked around with a confused frown. Surprised to find there was another officer lurking whom he hadn't even noticed, he gave Canada a once over before scurrying out.
Now that he had been called upon by name, Canada walked over to stand at the table which England was still preoccupied with.
"I'll need your men to move north along the – ah 'Nation's River' as that fool Washington has taken to calling it. How ludicrous. A nation's river when there isn't a nation for it to belong to." The second remark was murmured to himself as his fingertip settled at a point on the map to show Canada where he expected the colony to set up.
Canada nodded his head, taking in the location and thinking about the terrain. He's contemplating the position he should rally to and how best to make use of his limited artillery when England sighs, interrupting his planning.
"Is something the matter?" His voice is naturally soft, and he isn't surprised when England doesn't hear him the first time. Canada steps around the table to where England can see him from the peripheral and repeats himself. "England, what's wrong?" His phrasing is a little more forceful the second time around but it does the trick.
England's shoulders jerk up then down and he straightens, posture rigid when he turns to face Canada. "It all baffles me still." Oh, so that's what he was hung up on. Canada braces himself for a repetition of what he's already heard before. "Was I truly that cruel towards him?"
Or maybe not.
Canada fidgets in place, fingers pulling at the cuffs of his red jacket and then smoothing the material back into place. "You treated us better than we could've hoped for." There had been whispers from his people about how other colonies weren't allowed the same rights as the Americans in the New World. England allowed his Canadiens to remain Roman Catholic if they wished and he was still fluent in French; all because England willingly gave them these acts of kindness. America had cried about 'Taxation without representation' but he overlooked all that England allowed them both outside of Parliament.
"America always leapt before he looked." Canada's remark manages to place a smile on England's face. "And it never did work out well for him prior, did it?" England queries back, but Canada can tell it's a rhetorical question. He shakes his head anyhow and turns to leave so he can gather his men to prepare for the trek north.
Once he is alone, England crumples into the chair behind him, doubled forward with his hands in his hair. Was America intending to be the end of him? To ruin the British Empire because of a fanciful notion that had caused more harm than not? Could he not see that this would affect not only his land but those across the oceans? It already had. A global war was engulfing his colonies thanks to Spain and the bloody Dutch.
Of course not. How could America know? He had sheltered him and for that he should take some of the blame but he would be damned if he let that guilt cost him what he'd spent centuries building.
They were exhausted. With each hill they traversed there was another on the horizon with a seemingly never-ending supply of redcoats there to thwart their progress. Prussia had decided they should make camp for at least a day to rest, allowing the men and horses to recover from their brutal clip. With each shootout, America found himself less uncertain of taking his shots and more eager to finish up the fight. They had only just settled into their campsite when a scout shouted, "Approaching men from the south!"
Prussia was the first to his feet, grabbing his rifle and striding forward towards the scout. He snagged the telescope from his hands and held it to his right eye. America and France stood to either side of him, but they couldn't make out much more other than movement between the trees of the forest in the valley below.
"Not wearing red." Prussia commented, but he didn't sound convinced of their allegiance. He commanded the men to stand ready, in case it was a trick and they waited. And waited. America shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, his rifle held in both hands. Eventually the group was near enough to make out their faces. One man rode towards them, separating from the rest of the group.
"Alfred Jones? Is that you?" His voice was familiar, and it only took America a moment before he shoved his rifle into France's hands and ran towards the man who was rapidly dismounting to meet America. Prussia belatedly reached out to stop him but was unable to catch his sleeve. He settled for rolling his eyes and muttering 'idiot' beneath his breath. France chuckled beside him, "You're grouchier than usual mon ami. Perhaps you should rest first tonight?" Both holstered their weapons, France slinging the extra over his shoulder, and they watched America throw his arms around a rather tired looking man.
There was only one person who came to mind that still referred to him by his human name rather than the country and that person was, "Tench Tilghman! I haven't seen or heard from you since -" America released him from his possibly too-tight hug and frowned, realizing how much must have happened in the years it had been since the initial start of the revolution, their failure and how hard it must have been on him. On his family. "Has it been difficult?" He asks, worry evident as he looks Tench over.
"Perhaps but no more than one can say of any who suffer through such trying times. I was sent to meet you, gather information before we reunite with Washington outside of Yorktown." America looked out over the small gathering of men and Tench reassuringly patted him on the arm. "We are but a fraction of our numbers to travel inconspicuously. May we join you and your companions?" As America had observed Tench's men, so too did he glance over the nation's shoulder to take in the soldiers behind him.
"Of course! I'll introduce you to Prussia and France. It's really good to see you again." He turned, walking side by side with Tench back towards the others who had all since stood down and returned to what they were doing now that they knew they were no threat. All except Prussia and France who waited to greet the man America had ran headlong towards with no regard for his own safety.
The three looked one another over, two against one while America proudly introduced him, "This is Lieutenant Colonel Tench Tilghman. He's with the Aides-De-Camp and answers directly to General Washington. Tench, this is Prussia, or Gilbert Beilschmidt and France, also known as-" France interrupted with a flourish, "Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy." Prussia looked wholly unimpressed with the situation but offered a hand to shake before turning away. "We are setting out at dawn."
France, in contrast to Prussia, remained, with a smile on his face which turned to one of surprise when Tench replied in a smooth voice free of any American inflection, "Je suis très heureux de faire votre connaissance." His eyes darted towards America, intrigued by this newcomer a slight bit more.
"Oh right." America laughed, "Tench is fluent in French. You two will probably get along great."
One corner of Tench's lips quirked into a partial smile, "Do I not typically get along with others Alfred?" Sensing the trap he may have just walked into, America side stepped with his hands in the air, "Not what I meant! C'mon I want to show you something." He spoke to Tench but didn't wait for him before he took off deeper into the camp, occasionally stopping to turn and look back, making sure he was following him.
Tench inclined his head towards France, "Très heureux Francis." With that he followed after the eager America. The men from his unit ambled in slowly, mingling with the other soldiers easily enough around fires to share warmth.
On the other side of the camp America had started his own fire to rest at, eyes bright and excitement coursing through his body at having a chance to catch up with one of Washington's aides.
"It is good to see you again Alfred."
"You can call me America." The smile on his face could be heard in his voice as well.
"That I can, and sometimes do. You're a nation yes, but I won't have you forgetting who you are. You're more than a title." Tench returned the smile in kind. "Are we straight to business with what you wished to show me then?" He was curious about what America had been so eager to share but once he brought it up, the nation's expression fell. "Alfred, what is it?"
A moment later the smile was back in place but it was strained. The boy had yet to develop a poker face for politics. "You probably already know, about Hamilton's letter?" A nod from Tench. "Yeah I figured, honestly I kind of wanted to talk with you alone. No Prussia, no France." Looking for all the world like he were guilty of something, America nervously glanced between the fire and Tench's face. He hadn't lied technically but he couldn't think of a better way to drag Tench off from France's potentially never-ending conversation now that he had a newcomer who could understand him in his own language.
Tench laughed aloud, "Dear Alfred I forget how young you are sometimes." In reply, America's face scrunched into an overdramatic pout and Tench laughed harder. His laughter trailed off into a painful sounding cough that drew America to his side, one hand resting on his back in concern. "I'm fine." The reassurance was breathed out and he nodded to America. "I haven't laughed like that in some time."
Such sentiment haunted America. His people deserved joy – to laugh more often. Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. "I'm happy to speak with you one on one. As a nation you have the right to tell the others that as well." It wasn't a reprimand, but a reminder of America's status. "You've spent a great deal of time with them. More than even with Arthur in recent years, yes?" A nod from America.
"Well then let us take some time for ourselves and catch up. You may have nothing to show me but I am sure we can pass the hours with conversation. Lafayette will be eager to see you again. Has he yet met Francis?" With that, Tench and America began to talk easily and openly with one another well into the night. Eventually France joined them, and while the conversation began in English it quickly descended into rapid fire French at which point America excused himself to get some sleep.
He dreamed of sprawling plains, wide spaces and an island nation across the sea he'd never set foot on. When he awoke, it was to the sounds of drums and horses stomping past. It seemed as though Prussia had everyone breaking down their tents and cleaning the camp well before first light. Not that America minded. He was eager to set out once more and leave the bittersweet dreams behind. A shiver raced down his spine once he threw the blanket aside and he wasted no time shoving his icy feet into even icier boots. "Yeesh." He stomped his feet a few times to try and get the blood flowing.
His jacket was exchanged for a thicker lined one intended for the winter months. It took him a few minutes to collapse the tent he'd slept in and a few more to pack it away. When he was finished he turned to see almost everyone else doing the same or already lining up to leave. A few men yawned behind their gloved hands, others stood at attention without a hint of drowsiness.
Winter had arrived early as France bemoaned the other day. Snow had fallen overnight and left a thin white powder across the still green grass. It was too fluffy to make any semblance of a snowball with but America kneeled down to run his fingers through it anyway.
"Bonjour." America looked up from where he was crouched and smiled at France who seemed to be in a good mood considering the early hour. "France! Did you keep Tench up all night talking?"
France's hand flies to his chest, an offended scowl in place. "How could you think so poorly of me Amerique?" The overdramatic tone has America rolling his eyes but there's a small smile threatening to turn into a grin and France is quick to act upon that. He leans over the smaller nation, his ponytail brushing against the tip of America's cowlick. "Perhaps if someone took to French as their countrymen did I could have kept you up all night instead, non?"
The desired effect is had and America laughs. "I try! It's not my fault my pronunciation gets kind of mixed up now and then." He stands up, pushing France as he does so they don't bump into one another. "You try speaking English, French, German and remembering the, uh…" He trailed off and shook his head, "Never mind. I'll work on it, I promise."
"Already forgot what you are meant to remember?" France inquires with a tilt of his head, bemused at America's forgetfulness.
He chuckles, "Can't think straight without a cup of coffee y'know?" France would have believed him, if the boy hadn't avoided his gaze while saying so. He files the oddity away for another time, fully intending to find out what America hid from him.
Tench and his group of soldiers were already assembled, and Prussia was standing beside his horse, arms folded as he waited for the last of the men to get into formation. "Not the worst lineup I've ever seen." Prussia remarked under his breath.
"Was that a compliment? From you?" America asked, running the last few paces up to slide in front of Prussia and see his face when he asked it. "Not for you dummkopf. For your man." Prussia jerked his chin towards Tench who was walking through the group of soldiers, doing a final check before he arrived at his horse. He gave a wave to the trio of nations, only America returned the gesture with his own enthusiastic waving. France blew a kiss. Moments after, Prussia gave France a sidelong look, one eyebrow lifted. The unspoken question received an unspoken answer when France merely shrugged and winked.
"Enough. Let's get going before the snow gets worse."
America nodded his head, agreeing with Prussia and pulling his gloves out of his pocket to slip over his chilled fingers. His own horse had been taken care of by a boy who couldn't be any older than eighteen at most. He had a striking resemblance to himself, or so America thought. Messy blonde hair – in need of a wash if he were being honest – blue eyes and freckled skin. It was startling enough to leave him standing in place, staring for a beat longer than was polite. The boy shifted nervously, "Your horse sir?"
That snapped him out of it. America flashed him a grateful smile and took the reins from his extended hand. "Thanks!" The cheery gratitude earned him a smile in return. Then the boy turned and hurried off to join his regiment.
"Creepy, it's like there were two of you for a second. Can you imagine? Two of you?" Prussia leaned back in his saddle, losing sight of the doppelganger a moment later and then focusing on America who appeared confused. "I do have a brother. We look a lot alike."
Prussia hummed a noncommittal sound but didn't say anything else about Canada. Which suited America just fine. Thinking about his brother and who he'd decided to support in the war made his heart hurt. Things could've been so much different if they'd stood together as siblings. Instead he had a feeling the rift created by his revolution would take a lifetime to mend, if it even could be fixed. Sobered by the thought he clicked his tongue and pressed his heels into the horse's flank, urging him forward to ride beside Tench near the back of the group. Prussia took point and France would remain in the middle, free to move between the groupings as he so desired.
"Chin up Alfred. It won't do to be so glum when we are alongside our friends again." Tench's voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts and America nodded his head. "Right! You didn't get to finish your story last night before France showed up. Tell me more about when you first met George Washington."
With stories of the war from a perspective he had yet to hear, America rode South with a perpetual smile on his face. The wind picked up, leaving any exposed skin flushed red and chilled to touch but he didn't seem to mind the cold any. Tench's warm regard for his Commander in Chief and fellow aides left a pleasant, sunny feeling in his chest.
A day of easy travel was a much needed reprieve for the men. Spirits were lifted and despite the cold weather they made good time. Their luck didn't hold out for long when they sighted British forces the following day. Only this one seemed to be the largest they'd yet to face. Prussia's voice carried over the men's heads, calling for them to ready and America's heart sank. He guided his horse back and to the side, observing as he had been told to do. The opposing sides closed the distance between one another and America flinched, but didn't close his eyes after the first shots echoed through the valley. In no time the bayonets were out and the fighting began in earnest.
France watched from the opposite side of the field, issuing commands that were carried out by drummers and runners. It was easy to spot Prussia as he too directed the men in the field to better strike back. As far as America could tell, the soldiers were well matched. He shifted in the saddle, turning to do a sweep of the remaining forces but when he looked back to the fight he noticed someone. His eyes widened, lips parting in shock at the familiar face looking back at him.
There in the field, fighting alongside the redcoats was Canada.
Moving without thinking, he jumped out of the saddle and swung his rifle around and into his grasp, making sure the bayonet was on. He had eyes only for his brother; the sounds of battle became white noise, drowning out France calling his name and Prussia cursing in German. America moved lithely through the bodies fighting, occasionally having to parry a blow or push back at a British soldier to keep making progress towards the flash of curly blonde hair he'd glimpse admist the chaos.
He was very nearly there. America surged through one last group of soldiers fighting, just in time to see Canada spin and face an American rifleman, catching him in the sternum with the blade of his bayonet. All the color drains from Canada's face, and he drops his weapon, reaching out to steady the American he'd sentenced to death. He holds him by the shoulders, and from where America stands he can see him mouth his name.
In four long legged strides he's at Canada's side and watches as he lets the soldier slip from his fingers to fall at his feet. Wide blue eyes stare up at the sky and America only then realizes two things. First, is how shockingly bright blood looks in freshly fallen snow. Second, is that it was the boy who had given him his horse earlier that morning.
"No England to back you up this time?" America's biting remark cuts through Canada's shocked silence who notices him only after he'd spoken. "I thought he was you." Canada's voice is so quiet as to barely be heard, but America can hear him – he simply chooses to ignore him as he kneels down and pulls the dying American closer to him. The boy doesn't have much time left.
Much to his surprise, Canada sinks down to his knees as well. A strange, eerie sort of calm surrounds the trio as others fight around them. "I thought I…" Canada trails off and America finally glances up towards his brother to see a watery sheen to his eyes.
"It wasn't." He mumbles as the boy grabs a handful of his jacket and turns his face to hide against America's chest. If he cranes his neck he can hear him whispering for his mother. Then his grip slackens and America knows. His head tilts back and he meets Canada's eyes. He hadn't talked to Canada in years before this. When he began to grow up faster than his northern twin they grew apart just as quickly. He wonders if Canada understood how much of his nation's history had already been waged in war and battles.
His blip of existence was nothing compared to France or Prussia but still…In this very moment he felt the divide between them grow greater.
Canada must have sensed it too. The distraught look on his face was genuine.
"I hope I don't see you again before the war is over." America stood up, blood staining the front of his uniform. Canada mirrored his movements and both picked up their weapons. The quiet between them was broken when the fighting finally encroached on their space. America was forced to fend off soldiers from pushing further into their ranks and Canada slipped into the mass of redcoats with one last heartfelt look over his shoulder at America.
He committed this image to memory; of America, gritting his teeth, blood on his hands and jacket with rifle in hands. This was the nation of the United States of America, and the country he would become if he gained independence – Canada could feel it in his bones.
Wowee longer chapter than I anticipated. Sorry about that. Also friendly reminder I DO NOT SPEAK FRENCH. I use google. I apologize. Be gentle. HISTORY NOTES TIME:
This journey they're making typically wouldn't have taken more than a week at most. But hey fighting is exhausting and the men need to make camp sometimes, which is why this trip South is dragging on a bit longer than expected. It was common enough practice to hit supplies or groups, even amidst "neutral" territory to try and hinder the enemy side. Yay battle tactics.
MRS. BARNES! Possibly the first distinct female historical reference I've made? Note to self, more female representation. Mrs. Barnes was actually Ann Bates – a SPY. That's right, SPIES. She pretended to be a patriot when in fact she was a loyalist to the crown. She actually got into George Washington's HQ at White Plains. Her information was so precise and profound that it essentially allowed the British to retain Rhode Island and forced American/French troops out. There were spies on both sides of the war, and many of the most noteworthy (imo) were women and slaves.
The Battle of the Chesapeake was a very VERY integral and key pivotal point in the revolution. France really did a number on the British naval forces off the coast of the colonies. Netherlands and the American forces themselves also were doing work but in regards to the Chesapeake battle – the French literally (not literally) turned the tide. Atm they are merely detaining the British Admiral Graves in combat who actually fought in the Seven Years War too! Sorta. Dude actually didn't do his job going after a French ship at one point and got a slap on the wrist for it. He's currently dealing with French admiral François Joseph Paul de Grasse! Whew.
The Potomac River wasn't coined as an official name until the 1930s. Prior to this, George Washington dubbed it the "Nation's River" since it was a place he had spent a lot of time around/growing up in and he had inferred its importance geographically to the culture of the states.
As for why Canada didn't join in America's revolution, I won't go too deeply into it but in summary they weren't all that bad off under British rule. The crown wanted the Canadians to like them when they acquired the land after the French and Indian War. As mentioned they could keep their Catholic practices and they still spoke French for certain parts of civil law and legal jurisdiction. Which is neato. Additionally the geographical separation from those northern territories to the American meant they didn't really experience a lot of the "radical" movements like the Boston Massacre, Tea Party, etc. The sheer 'HOLY MOLY' of those events really incited some chaos for the bid in independence for the American colonies.
I won't even touch Taxation without representation other than to say, a very famous, rallied behind saying linked back to American colonists wanting representatives in parliament in the midst of their heavy taxation on goods from the motherland.
ENTER THE AIDES DE CAMP! Some of my favorite men in history. Basically secretaries, right hand men of Washington hand picked to help him in the war. First up is Tench Tilghman, done a serious disservice by how few know of the fellow. He was one of, if not the most trusted aid to George Washington. It got to a point where nearly all of his letters were written by Tench. More interesting is his backstory and service to the Commander In Chief. He came from a loyalist family. His brothers even fought for the British while he spoke on behalf of independence for the colonies. When he joined as an aid/secretary to Washington he did so as a volunteer and served voluntarily throughout the entire war. He was so trusted by Washington that he delivered the British surrender to the Continental Congress. His death is sad though. He didn't live long after the war, succumbing to what they now think today was hepatitis. Listen he was so well loved by Washington that he was in multiple paintings with him and as a fairly obvious focal point and Washington wrote letters to his brother speaking very fondly of him. Washington's writings were not usually so sentimental. TENCH TILGHMAAAANNN.
More vague other aides references such as Lafayette and Hamilton. What a crew. We'll get into them soon enough.
Not really specific but most soldiers in the war on the patriot side were 20-25 years old on average but many much below and above that range joined of course. Great way to guarantee yourself a better position in life post-war. Assuming your side won and y'know you don't get hung for being a traitor to the crown.
NOW TO SAY THANKS TO THE REVIEWERS!
To the unnamed guest, thank you for taking the time to read and review. Getting an emotional reaction is any writer's dream. To MuseofSong, your review made my day, so thank you. ZDrive I can relate to those login feels, thank you for the kind words. Elizaveta Leo, I appreciate your patience. I do have an account with AO3 but it hasn't been used. Would you suggest posting there in the future? This is my first return to writing online and I figured I'd post to FF since it was already here. TARNS! Seeing your Yoshi icon took me back. Thank you for remembering me and this pet project of mine. Sneaky France is best France, yes? ;D I'll have to go look at what you've been up to writing. Pixelfun20 it is so crazy to think people remember this story from years ago. Thank you for coming back to it, and I had to slog through my old writing to refresh my memory as well. I'm so sorry. To notherehaha, thank you for the welcome back! MysticMaiden, thank you for such a nice comment as well. Tlgrimn, thank you for reading my work! Kind regards to CuteHeartz who sent me a very lovely message. Seeing that others are interested and still read this gave my muse an adrenaline shot. I can't thank you all enough.
I can't express this enough for all reviewers. It makes me warm and fuzzy to read your thoughtful remarks.
Unrelated, but I realized I have a horrible habit of letting France get the last word in at chapter ends, no more of that no siree. Though that would be typical France I feel like.