AN: This is a companion piece for Devil Child but can be read separately. I wrote it because let's be honest Canada was just as wild as America if not more so during colonial days. Mathew is just quieter about it.


France's wine glass slips through his fingers. The glass shatters. The deep red liquid spreads across the floor. The thick carpet has lived for centuries in his Paris home. Today it drinks deeply and will never recover. It's a necessary sacrifice.

"Canada," France cries out. He lungs off the sofa and collapses before his precious little colony. He takes the colony's face in his hands. Canada's eyes go wide. His face is covered in blood.

France presses his shirt cuffs to his skin. He gently pats and swipes at the blood as he desperately searches for the injury. Canada does not make it easy for France. He leans away and turns his face. The colony lets out heartbreaking little whimpers.

France murmurs sweet comforts to his little one to no effect. Canada brings his little hands up and bats away France's hands. At first the nation dodges his efforts, but the colony takes to other means. He buries his face in his hands then collapses onto his knees and tucks himself into a small ball.

"Canada, please you must let Papa help you. Where does it hurt? What happened?" France encircles the colony in his arms. He pulls him to his chest, still trying to see the colonies face.

The words are muffled by his knees at first but with some coxing the colony lifts his face. "I caught a fish."

"You caught a fish?"

This made no sense to the European nation. He had never taught Canada to fish and they have no fishing equipment in their home. He has guns and knives, of course, but those are safely tucked away out of the colony's reach. Even if per chance the colony had managed to get them, what would he do with them? He has only been trapping before. How could Canada have caught a fish and how could he have injured himself so?

Canada lifts his head. Despite the blood he has a soft smile on his lips and his eyes sparkle proudly. "Yes!"

"How," France asks still cautiously eyeing Canada for the slightest sign of pain.

"I taught myself." He sounds extremely proud of himself.

"Oh, is that so?"

Canada nods. "I copied the bears." Then he slips out of France's arms. The colony raises his hands up and brings them down in a quick swipe. It is indeed like the bears. The large viciously hungry bears that are easily four times Canada's size. A pit of cold dread drops into his stomach.

"That is very…impressive Canada." France forces a smile onto his face. He thought his sweet little colony had been out collecting flowers and following birds as he had often seen him doing. And now, he discovers that he had been wandering into the woods and spending time with bears.

My god, he was never been allowed to do anything so reckless when he was so small. You could find more mercy on a battlefield than in nature. France aches to hold his colony tight and never let him go.

"And… and then I ate it," Canada happily chirps.

"You ate it?"

He nods eagerly. Then he lifts his hands up to his face like he is cradling a fish. Only then does France see the blood smeared along his fingers and down his arms. Canada continues to mime eating.

"Canada, did you… eat it raw?"

"Like the bears!" France makes a noise that must have sounded approving to the colony because he smiles and sways happily.

Meanwhile, France's stomach rolls. His precious little colony is running around in the wilds like a savage. He feels like the ground has given way below him. His innocent little colony is it all a lie? Have his own delusions and hopes overtaken reality? How could he ever take the colony back to Europe? After all he had done, his strives in art and culture, he would be a laughingstock. Hell, he didn't even have to go back to Europe. England's colony, Canada's brother, was just to the South and England would no doubt follow on his heels.

But more importantly, Canada is going to make himself sick!

"Cherie, please, my little love…"

Canada stills, abandoning his tiny dance for attention. He tilts his head in a way that is so cute France can ignore the blood. "Yes?"

"Would you like me to teach how to cook? You would be able to eat wonderful food like big brother makes for you every day." France smiles widely like learning to cook is simply the most fun the colony will ever have. And to be fair, it might very well be but it is without a doubt a task he has to learn regardless.

Canada peers up at him, weighing his options. His little face is so focused, so serious. Finally, after long minutes of France debating if he should just call it a day and throw the colony in the washing and be done with it the colony comes to a decision. "Would that make you happy?"

"Oh yes, it would make me so happy." France says.

Canada smiles up at him. He hums happily and says, "Ok."