Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.
May Stalwart Sons And Gentle Maidens Rise
America and Canada must have been born at the same time.
Because there was never any memory of ever being separated or sundered from one other. America was Canada and Canada was America.
They had never experienced disaster or war or interference from other people. It was peaceful and quiet. They often spent their days running in the fields, climbing the tall trees, swimming in the rivers and lakes, frolicking by the sandy beaches.
" We'll always be together, won't we?" he asked her one day, while lying stretched out on the golden wheat fields.
" Of course, we will," she confidently said, rolling onto her side to face him. She held her pinkie finger. " Promise?"
He hooked her finger around hers. " Promise."
She wondered where America was lately. Earlier, he had spotted ships from the horizon and curiosity overtook him and he went to investigate them. But now, he had not returned and Canada grew fretful. Whatever those ships might have done to her brother, Canada didn't liked the thought of her brother being so close to those ships.
Clutching Kumajirou tightly, she made her way towards the shores, while formulating several plans that would rescue her brother from these strangers' grasp. No further than when she reached the grassy plains, did she discovered a tall man, kneeling by the dirt, looking miserable.
Surprised at seeing another being other than her brother, Canada approached him cautiously. " Are you all right?" she asked him, tapping him on the elbow.
Glassy eyes, filled with tears, glanced up to look at her. Only to, without warning, suddenly swept Canada off her feet and into his embracing arms. His face lit up in an unspeakable joy as he hugged the appropriately surprised Canada. " Mon chéri America! You came back to me!" he squealed in delight, nearly squeezing the life out of Canada, who was quite confused as to who this man was, why he spoke in a strange language and how he knew her brother. " I knew you wouldn't stay with that old pirate for long!"
Canada patiently waited until the man had stopped hugging her so fiercely, suppressing her curiosity about this pirate he had mentioned. " I think you are mistaken, sir," the child shyly said. " I'm not America."
It was rather comical to see the man blink once, before lifting her up to eye level, examining her carefully. His scrutinizing made Canada blush and duck her head nervously. " You claim you're not America, yet you remarkably resemble him," he slowly observed. " May I ask who are you, ma petite?"
Drawing herself up at her highest, she proudly recited to him.
" I am Canada."
She cried the day that France reluctantly signed the Treaty of Paris and was forced to surrender Canada and America to England. She didn't want to go to this strange England, whom France had spoken of nothing but contempt.
" But Papa, I don't want to go with England!" she furiously exclaimed. " I want to stay with you. Why won't you take me with you?"
France gently wiped her tear-stained face. " Ma chérie, you know that more than anything, I would bring you with me. But I cannot."
Unable to stop her outburst of tears, Canada threw herself into France's arms. " Will I ever see you again?" she hiccuped.
He looked sadly at her. " Perhaps one day. But one thing I want you to remember Canada, is that you don't forget that you were once part of France, even if that thick eyebrows tries to take it away."
" Yes, Papa," Canada sniffed. France was and would always be her dear papa. No matter how this England might treat her, for better or for worse, France would always possess a corner more of her love. He bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead and for what might be the last time, she deeply inhaled France's sweet scent of cooking and rich wine.
Then he was gone, leaving her behind in a home that suddenly became dark and gloomy.
Torn between her love for America and her loyalty to England, Canada had no choice but to remain neutral on the matter of America's independence.
" I don't know why you continue siding with England," America, older and taller, angrily snapped. " He doesn't even visit us anymore. And look what he did with those ridiculous taxes. And increasing his troops in my area to keep an eye on me. Like I need to be watched over."
" England wouldn't do something like that without reason," she pointed out, not as old and tall as America yet.
America paced agitatedly, ignoring her. " This has gone on for far too long," he muttered, more to himself than to Canada. " I'll show that bastard exactly what I am capable of."
And as Canada had dreaded, America declared war against England, to be free from his rule and control. He offered for her to join him and to rule by his side once they had won. But Canada quietly refused. As much as she loved America and England, she would not participate in the war.
For if she did, she wouldn't forgive herself for hurting either of her brothers.
After America gained his long-sought independence, rather than congratulating him (he did take her hostage in Montreal briefly during 1775, something that provoked England greatly and something that Canada hadn't quite forgiven America yet), Canada went to England. She found him in a bar, still in uniform. When he realized she was there, he sloppily raised a glass towards her in a mocking toast.
" Come to declare your independence too, Canada?" he scoffed, eyes drunkenly glazed.
Patiently, she shook her head. " Then why are you here?" he loudly asked, swinging his drink around until its contents spilled. " Go to America. Go to your brother. He won this war. No point for you to see a loser like me."
" I wanted to thank you for rescuing me in Quebec," she calmly said. " Your soldiers came and saved me. It is something that I am grateful for."
" I was weak," England interrupted, staggering over to one side, leaning unsteadily against the counter. " Couldn't win against America. Couldn't beat someone younger than me. And either way, in my state, I cannot protect you anymore from him. I lack the strength to. I can't even protect the ones that I - that - I am undeserving of you -" He stopped, his voice cracking.
" England." Canada drew close to him, both of her hands gently holding his own. " My opinion of you is no less than what I had for you before, whether you would have won this war or not. And if you would allow it -" She paused briefly. " - I'll stay by your side a little longer."
Tears welled up in England's eyes, gazing back at her with such adoration and fondness that it made Canada feel slightly uncomfortable. " Oh Canada," he sobbed, enveloping her in an unexpected embrace. " You're the only one I can depend on," he blubbered.
Visibly touched by England's words, all she could do was hug him back.
She supposed it was a combination of America's resentment and her own quiet hostility towards him, along with England enforcing trading restrictions and focusing on his war against France, that would eventually led to the War of 1812.
Again, America attempted to convince Canada to join with him, believing she would be easily persuaded. Unfortunately, she didn't and she resisted any opposition from her brother, remaining rooted in her beliefs and loyalty to England.
" If you aren't with me, you'll be against me," he reminded her, with a hint of regret in his otherwise cold voice. " And this time, I'll be doing more than just taking you hostage."
Matching his gaze with an equally hard look, she jerked her head in defiance. " Do your worst," she replied.
Sir Issac Brock was quick to leap to her defense and fought valiantly for her cause. Her people rallied and challenged the American forces, surprising them with their stubbornness. The support of her people did hearten Canada a little, as she defended her lands with a steady persistence.
But Canada knew it was only a matter of time before her strength could hold out. She could only pray that England would come soon with more reinforcements.
In the end, the American soldiers got to York and looted and burned it to the ground. Canada could only bitterly watch as they destroyed and raided her homes. America was there, silently watching as the flames expanded and hungrily consumed the parliament. He turned to see her glaring back at him, furious and grief-stricken.
All he could do was mouth "I'm sorry" before leaving.
So it made her vengeance all the more bittersweet as she watched British troops set the White House on fire, this time mouthing the words "I'm sorry" to her stunned brother.
The resentful flash in Canada's eyes made England flinch only slightly. " You allowed my people to go to this war. Why can't I join them too?" she demanded.
" Because it would be dangerous. Wars are no place for a girl like you."
" I've survived wars before!" she glared fiercely at him. " Against America. Against my own people. Why should this war be any different?"
" European wars are different," England brusquely retorted. " They are not like America or your own people. You haven't seen Germany fought before. Or the Austro-Hungarian armies. They won't go easy on you because you are a small colony of mine. In fact, they will press and crush you harder." He reshuffled his papers. " The answer is still no."
She rebelliously cut her hair the next day and joined one of the recruiting stations, where her youthful face and almost-always-covered eyes allowed her to slip unnoticed.
The trench warfare was more horrendous and appalling than Canada had first expected.
For months on end, she would sleep on the cold, hard dirt, with nothing but her rifle as a pillow and her tattered uniform as a blanket. It rained often and the food became soggy and stale. Rats and maggots roamed freely by her feet. She shuddered whenever they brushed past, praying that none of them would get into her boots.
And soon, she participated in the battle that was none other than Ypres.
" We have to pull back!" France yelled over the screams and gurgling wails of soldiers, who fell and choked to death as the gas inched closer towards them. England was already ordering his men back, grabbing as many fallen as he could, dragging them along to save them.
But instead of running, Canada stood her ground, shoving soaked rags into her soldiers' surprised hands. " It'll stop the gas!" she yelled over the explosions and dying shrieks.
To her immense relief, they obeyed her, tying the bedraggled cloth around their noses and continued their fight, more fiercely than before. The Germans, taken back that not all the Allies had fled, were caught unaware and unprepared for the fresh rally of the Canadian soldiers.
Canada had not once removing her eyes from the battle, firing shot after shot, reloading, pulling the trigger, ducking, dodging. Her thoughts were scattered and focused on cluttered intervals.
I'm not going to run ... (bang) ... I won't retreat ... The enemy won't advance ... (bang) ... They won't bring me down... (bang) ... I won't let them ... (ba-) ...
" Don't be an idiot! You'll die!" someone suddenly yelled into her ear.
To her shock, it was England, appearing out of the shower of dirt and grabbing her arm. For a wild moment, Canada thought she had been discovered. But then, another bomb rocketed above them, sending England backwards and allowed her enough time to disappear under a wave of frantic soldiers.
" Soldier! Come back!" England's distant voice called her.
But Canada was already gone.
Somme had been planned as an offensive against Germany. Instead, it turned disastrous for the Allies.
A stray piece of shrapnel dug into her arm, shattering bone and skin. One bullet ripped into her neck and another two bullets caught her hard in the chest and stomach. The nearby explosion that rattled her teeth and shudder through her bones finally brought Canada down.
As she laid in the mud, inhaling her own blood, listening to the screams and ear-splitting blasts of bombs, feeling the ground thudding underneath her fumbling fingers, Canada wondered if the rest of her soldiers were still alive.
Someone grabbed her. Barely conscious, she could hear the one who saved her yelling distorted words that she couldn't quite make out from the red haze that surrounded her.
There were hands, gentle and firm, brushing against her burning skin, whispering. She screamed when they delved into her wounds, searching for metal and iron, tearing through her skin, cracking her bones. She fought them off, believing them to be the enemy, trying to extract information from her.
She called for England, France, America, anyone to help her in her delirium. A familiar worried face appeared, a cool finger brushing lightly against her cheek amidst her cries, murmuring soothing French words, words that she did recognize and clung to desperately. And at last, she slept.
When she woke up, England was already sitting by her side. Canada was surprised to see the haggard lines across his face and dark circles under his eyes. He was pale, looking exhausted and overwrought with grief and affliction. It was as if England had suddenly aged thirty years in the past few months.
" As soon as you recover your strength, you will be sent home," he curtly told her. No questions asked. No burst of outrage. No fatherly concern. It frightened Canada more than she would have liked.
" England, I -"
" Rest for now." He stood up and she could see how he cringed at the movement. Aghast, she wondered how many injuries England hid underneath his uniform. " You have a long journey ahead of you," he almost brutally assured her as he began walking away from her.
Something jolted inside her chest and Canada knew it wasn't merely the pain. She - and England - knew that this war cannot be won without her. They needed her as much as she craved to be fighting alongside with them. They were her family and she would die if she would be forced to stand by the ports, waiting and praying that they would come home safely to her.
She lifted her head from the bed, even though every muscle in her body screamed. " Even if you send me back, I'll find a way to return to the battlefield," she replied, swallowing hard against the pain that abruptly shot throughout her body.
From the distance, she could see how England's shoulders tensed. And what seemed like an eternity later, he sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. " Have it your way then," he said without turning around.
And before she could thank him, he left without another word.
By the time she recovered enough to walk (a slight limp still remained in her gait), most of the soldiers had discovered who she was. The British and French soldiers stared, whispering none too softly. They were stunned that Canada herself had joined the fight and displayed a tenacity that rivaled theirs. There were more than enough who scoffed and mocked that a woman was among them. Their comments and jesting contempt nearly made the fearless Canada lose heart.
However, Canada's men fully supported her and if anyone jeered against her, they would be met against a very infuriated and protective regiment of soldiers who refused to let anyone insult their country and get away with it.
England was busy, leaving no time for rumors or comfort. France, though pleased to see that his daughter had recovered well, did wish her to be back home. " It breaks my heart whenever I see you fighting, ma chérie," he simply summed up.
And despite losing many of her men, the Germans learned to fear whenever Canadian troops were placed. They had gained a respectable reputation as shock troops and once they struck, it would often be devastating. Slowly, the British and French forces began to develop respect for her and her men.
On December 6, 1917, Canada collapsed, howling in agony. Halifax had erupted in a fiery blaze, taking many lives and leaving its people fatally vulnerable for the blizzard that occurred soon afterwards.
The explosion, combined with the sudden snow storm, left Canada reeling from fever and chills.
" Don't worry," she murmured earnestly. " America will look after my people - look! He's sending doctors and supplies now ... America will know what to do ... He knows ..."
England gently hushed her, deciding not to remind her that America was already here after joining the war, and France continued swiping sweat off her forehead.
Vimy Ridge was an escarpment under German capture that provided a natural advantage of view in all directions. Neither France or England was able to reclaim it.
And Canada didn't disappoint. Combined with the precise planning and that all four of Canadian divisions were brought together, the battle turned to them, with the German troops retreating, overwhelmed by the speed of their advance.
There, she spotted Germany near the top of the escarpment, whose hazy outline appeared to be watching her. A surge of retribution burned in her chest. The deaths of her soldiers at Somme were not forgotten and their defeat only fueled her burning desire to get even with Germany. She remembered all those days when England looked unnervingly pale and thin. She remembered all those days when France's clothes grew shabbier. She remembered all those days when she cried as she buried her comrades.
Raising her gun, squinting against the glare of the rising sun, she took a shot and to her disappointment and dismay, it only grazed Germany's shoulder. But surprisingly, he didn't flinch, as if he was allowing her a chance to shoot him.
She lowered her gun briefly and in a blink of an eye, Germany had already left.
Australia whistled quietly to himself after England closed the radio frequency, bluffing the Germans to believe that Canada was placed elsewhere. " You think they'll fall for it?"
Canada nodded, absently picking at her burnt, singed ends of her once golden strands. " They've learned to prepare for an attack whenever I'm around," she shrugged. " Not even our own allies know that I'm here," she added with a little smile.
The man chuckled. " You really are something, missy."
When came time for the battle of Amiens, the Germans were taken by surprise by the overwhelming combination of Austrialian, British, French and Canadian troops. They were ruthless and quick. They cut off communication from the Germans and restrained any counter attacks. Pressed by all sides by the Allies, they surrendered, morale succumbed. Later, German general Erich Ludendorff would claim that this was "the black day for German Army".
But it wasn't over for Canada. She continued fighting and breaking the Himdenburg line, starting at the Drocourt-Quéant line, progressing to Canal du Nord and Cambrai. Her secured victories convinced the German High command that they were defeated.
Those days would eventually be known as Canada's One Hundred Days.
And on November 11, 1918, Germany surrendered.
The war was finally over.
She stood in Flanders' Fields, both marveled and disgusted by the appearance of poppies, blooming over the wasteland that had once been a bloody, grim battle. The thought reminded her of a poem she heard before.
" In Flanders' Fields, the poppies blow/between the crosses, row on row," she murmured. Her voice carried lightly over the wind and over the poppies. " ... We are the Dead. Short days ago/We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow/Loved, and were loved, and now we lie/in Flanders' fields."
America appeared by her side, still sporting a few bruises across his face. " What's that you're saying?"
Canada shrugged. " Nothing. Let's go home."
As she left, her hand brushed against a poppy.
Australia fumbled with his tie, as he hurried to Versailles, after receiving a message from England to attend this meeting, involving some sort of treaty. Rounding a corner, he nearly bumped into another person. " Sorry, mate. Didn't see you there -" he started, only to stop, staring at the girl who also bobbed an apology before realizing who she was.
And had he not fought with and personally knew Canada, Australia would have mistaken her for a stranger.
The girl - young woman wore a simple but elegant dress. White lace trailed the cuffs of her sleeves and her hair for once wasn't covered in dirt, mud or blood. It was combed and clean, a little red ribbon tied at the side. Her face wasn't smudged or scratched but smooth and fair.
A smile appeared almost effortlessly across her face, her lips dabbed with strawberry red. " It's all right, Australia," Canada said, and it surprised him to hear how soft and dainty her voice was, compared to the loud, swearing, harsh voice he had heard during battle. " Do you know why England had called us here?" she asked, tilting her head towards the closed door.
He shrugged, still trying to comprehend this new side of Canada. " New fashion?" he teased her.
A slight smirk graced Canada's features and Australia could still spot the feisty soldier underneath all the fancy fabric and pretty looks.
Just then, the doors opened and ushers escorted them in.
Australia wasn't the only one taken back by Canada's appearance. England stopped in his rant to France, eyes widening at the sight of this unrecognizable lady before him. France immediately gushed and twittered about how well the dress complimented his daughter's lovely form. Even the stoical Germany raised his eyebrows slightly upwards at the fact that one of his most fearsome enemies was currently wearing a dress. America's mouth was curled in a smile, having been the one to encourage his sister to come with that dress.
" You wanted to speak to us, England?" Canada asked, turning pink at the attention she was receiving and ducking her head bashfully under her golden locks.
England cleared his throat. " Throughout this war, both of you have shown great valor and strength," he began. " My boss believes that you deserve the honour to sign the treaty by your own right and join this conference under your own names."
She felt her breath hitched and Australia's jaw dropped. Her fully participating in the conference and not as part of the British Empire, but as an individual country, left her speechless and reeling with happiness. " England, how can I -?" she stammered.
With a smile, England directed her towards the little name card at the side, labeled in large, bold words Canada.
" Welcome to the Paris Peace Conference."
The Great Depression certainly had Canada's hands full, leaving her little room for any other thought, as she ran to place to place, delivering food, blankets and other supplies to her people. Her clothes grew pitiful and clung loosely against her thinning frame. They had been hit hard and recovery was slower than she would have liked.
But when England declared war on Germany, Canada, having gained her independence earlier, was under no oath to go to war herself. It was something her people were reluctant to take part in, after seeing the effects of the First World War and barely recovering from the Depression.
Mackenzie King sat in his office, hands clasped as he leaned against them. Canada stood beside him, also silent. " What would you decide?" he asked her at last.
As much as Canada liked wearing dresses and immersing herself in the recent fashion, she desired to join the rest of her family in war. " Whatever your decision will be, I will follow it," she quietly replied.
On September 10, 1939, when Canada declared war on Germany, she wordlessly folded her dresses away in her drawers, regretfully snipped her long hair off and donned her miltary uniform once more.
After her surrender to the Japanese in Hong Kong and her defeat at Dieppe, Canada sought to redeem herself at Juno Beach.
Her heavy equipment nearly dragged her below the water, but she fought and struggled, clawing against the water to reach the top. But the enemy retaliated and many of her men fell and did not get back up. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Canada pushed forward, fighting with every inch of her life.
More soldiers began to arrive, replacing those who were lost. They landed and some didn't. Land mines were devastating and unpredictable. Shouts and screams echoed numbly in Canada's ears. The nearby flames licked her leg, searing through cloth and skin. She crashed behind the nearest cover, clutching her leg. Tearing off a piece of cloth from her sleeve, she wrapped it around her burnt leg, blinking back tears, and charged right back into battle.
By the next day, Canada sagged to the ground, beyond exhausted, her injured leg bleeding through her three makeshift bandages and having sustained many more injuries.
But she and her men had done it. They pushed further into France, much deeper than any other Allied forces, even though within the first hour, they suffered fifty percent casualties. A grim, bittersweet victory, but a victory nevertheless.
A mug of beer was shoved into her good hand and she looked up in surprise to see England. " Drink it all," he ordered her. " It'll help."
With a wane smile, she gratefully drank it, drowning her weary thoughts of when this war would be over.
" There's someone here!" Canada shouted, already digging through the debris and snow. With a great heave, she yanked out Holland, who was frightfully pale and thin and not moving. " Get a doctor now!" she snapped at a soldier, taking off her jacket to cover him. " Holland? Can you hear me?"
He stirred sluggishly. " W-who are you?" he mumbled, trying to gather his surroundings.
With the help of another soldier, she picked him up and dragged Holland to the nearest shelter. " I'm Canada," she briskly said.
" I - I cannot stay here," he gasped, trying to fight against Canada's hold. " My bosses and their children - they need me. Where will they go? I have to - I have to -"
She hushed him, nervously watching as the doctors and nurses worked fervently on him. " Don't worry. They are in Canada right now. My people will look after them for you." Wrapping many thick blankets around him, she gently helped him up to dribble some water past his cracked lips.
Closing his eyes in relief, Holland whispered a " thank you".
Canada's suggestion to create a peacekeeping force during the Suez Crisis was something that surprised the other countries. Particularly her father and older brother.
" Why are you taking Egypt's side rather than ours?" England demanded.
" Ma Canada is becoming rebellious!" France wailed (ironically).
" At least it's better than your ideas!" America snapped. He shot his sister a glance, silently voicing his frustrations and thinning patience. Neither England and France was willing to listen to them. England was acting too stubborn for his own good and in France's case, he was sobbing about how his ma chérie had changed so much and started blaming the World Wars for the cause.
Squaring her jaw, she gazed directly at England and France. " A neutral force of those not involved will be sent to control the situation with Egypt," she began, only pausing to glare down their protests. Only when they were grudgingly quiet that she continued. " Being a neutral middle power and the founder of the peacekeeping, I myself will go to Egypt to help."
" You're not going -"
" It's too dangerous -"
" And I'll stay there as long as I have to until you both have peacefully settled this issue," Canada smoothly interrupted, smiling sweetly at the indignant, spluttering faces of England and France.
America covered a smirk behind his hand. Only Canada could effortlessly wrap those two around her pinkie finger.
The Chinese forces at Kapyong were great and relentless. They continually attacked and attacked, increasing their frequency and strength, leaving Canada and Australia very little time for rest.
They fought into the night, defending their lines, breaking each wave of assaults from the enemy. Sometime during a brief rest, Australia managed to call the 1st U.S. Marine Division, requesting reinforcements to come.
" Who is this?" America demanded. " All our troops were all swiped out during the night."
" I've got news for you, we are still here and we are staying here!" Australia yelled back.
Throughout the night and well into the morning, they clashed stubbornly against the Chinese advances, forcing them back, digging into the dirt, even fighting hand-to-hand until they collapsed where they stood. By morning, they were bone-weary and gritty with gore. Australia winced, tying a bloody rag to his leg. Canada gingerly took off the ice pack from her swollen wrist.
" Damn it," he growled, hearing the familar Chinese cry in the distance. " They're still coming."
Rubbing the sweat and blood off her face, Canada gripped the radio with slick fingers. A static voice crackled through, asking for confirmation. She glanced at Australia, who grimly nodded.
" Fire down on our positions," she commanded, hoping the slight tremble in her voice wasn't heard.
The October Crisis hurt her more than she would have liked. Her country was tethering at the edge with the kidnapping of British Trade Commissioner, the death of the Minister of Labour of Quebec and the invoking of the War Measures Act. Her people fought among themselves, bitter, resentful and provoked, their anger and desperation clashing violently into her.
She quickly wiped away all traces of her despair before turning to see France. " Papa," she acknowledged him with a bright, cheery smile. " What brings you here?"
He took one look at her red-stained eyes and her sunken cheeks. " Viens ici," he gently commanded her.
Unable to stop her tears, she ran into his open arms, just as she had done many times before. " Papa, why can't they get along?" she wept, burying into his shoulder. " Why can't they be like toi et moi?"
" I wish I knew, ma petit chérie," France sadly said.
If there was one thing that Canada won't lose in, it was hockey.
She lived and defined the sport, claiming it for her own and boldly challenged anyone who thought they could do better. Russia was good, she grudgingly had to admit. She found out the hard way, after he defeated her in the first round of the Summit Series and continued to crush them relentlessly.
There were times when their morales couldn't be any lower, where the team was booed off the ice at the end of the game after a humilating defeat. The media persisted to degrade and ridicule them. Biting back the tears, Canada could only keep her head held high and ignore their criticism.
Fighting back with a ferocity that surprised Russia and her own people, Canada came back with narrow wins and sheer determination to get her through it. The game with Sweden brought her team together and renewed them for their following games. Her country assembled in their support, breaths held as their eyes remained glued to the screen, nervously biting nails and clenching their teeth. There were a few losses, with some of her teammates leaving and some being injured.
But she couldn't have asked for a better team. They stuck together through thick and thin, leading their team and country into a frenzy rollercoaster ride of a lifetime that eventually ended in their sweet victory over Russia.
" Napolean didn't take Moscow. The Nazis got within 21 miles in 1943. But in a war of a different kind, Team Canada conquered Moscow ..."
As it turned out, hockey wouldn't be the only thing Canada would succeed in.
" Blue Jays win it! The Blue Jays are World Series champions as Joe Carter hits a three-run home run in the ninth inning and the Blue Jays have repeated as World Series Champions! Touch 'em all, Joe, you'll never hit a bigger home run in your life!"
Those were the words that Tom Cheek, announcer for the Jays, had proudly and loudly proclaimed as Canada couldn't help but cheer as her team won the World Series for the second time. Her people were screaming, stamping, shouting, waving their red and white flags, hugging each other and pumping their fists in the air.
People didn't think they would be able to do it. After all, this was a sport that most people wouldn't think of Canadians first. They would think of other countries, like America. Not her. Hockey was her only sport, they claimed.
But she proved them wrong. Canada could be good in any sport other than hockey.
And she certainly did.
When Canada approached America after the events of 9/11, for the first time, she wasn't quite sure how to comfort her brother. America had always seemed so strong and invincible that it seemed that nothing would or could ever harm him. To see him so defeated and lost made her feel just as defeated and lost.
She found him, uncomfortably quiet. " Operation Yellow Ribbon went well," she babbled, unable to stand the suffocating silence. " I've managed to redirect all the flights to my airports. And don't worry about security. I'll do a full swipe of the planes. The rest of your planes will be looked after by my people. I'll make sure they'll be accommodate well and -"
" Canada," America interrupted suddenly, cutting through her chatter. " Do - do you think I failed them?"
There was no question to who "they" were. After all, a country's people meant more to their country than anything else in the world. " No. You never did," she quickly assured him.
" But I couldn't stop this. A hero would have. A hero would have stopped those planes and made sure nothing like this would have ever happened!" He angrily slapped away her hand when she placed it on his shoulder, not even ceasing his ramble. " So what am I then? Not a country. Not a hero. Nothing at all!"
Bitterly laughing, he looked at Canada with hollow eyes. " Tell me, what am I?"
" You are my brother," she softly told him. " If there was nothing else that mattered, it would be more than enough for me." This time, when she wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head underneath her chin, he didn't resist. " So, just lean on me and I'll make sure we'll both be all right in the end."
America quietly smiled, curling his fingers around her hand.
" This is for you, Canada."
" For my country."
" Canada, we are number 1!"
" We did this, Canada. We won this."
These were the words that were in Canada's heart as she slowly made her way through the crowds. Her people wore her colors of red and white proudly and with great joy, waving flags, shouting, cheering, laughing. The euphoria of winning the hockey game and winning the most gold medals of a Winter Olympics had not yet abated, only growing and thriving in the environment.
And when came time for her to sing the national anthem at the closing ceremonies, Canada had never been prouder to be a country.
She could see France beaming from the sides, blowing her kisses. England sat nearby, grinning from ear to ear. America clapped the loudest, pumping his fists in the air, whistling. Russia was smiling, looking relatively peaceful. Italy jumped up and down in joy. Germany politely applauded. For once, everyone was watching her.
There were no words to describe how happy and exhilarated she was, as Canada began to sing.
" O Canada. Our home and native land ..."
After reading magnificant, amazing stories from VioletzeEcoFreak and Five Tailed Demon Dog, it inspired me to write this. They were the ones who made Fem!Canada into my guilty pleasure. Not to mention, I always wanted to write a gender-bender story for a long time.
As much as I enjoy history, I am no history major. I will probably make some historical mistakes and some things are for fictional purposes. If I did make some mistakes, let me know and I'll correct them.
The title referred to the original, long version of the 1908 lyrics of the Canadian anthem by Robert Stanley Weir.
Boston, Massachusetts was one of the earliest, if not the earliest, that sent help to Halifax after the explosion. Afterwards, every Christmas, Halifax would send a giant spruce tree, which would become their Christmas tree.
The poem In Flanders' Fields was written by Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonal John McCrae.
Holland (Netherlands) was invaded by Germany and the Dutch Royal family became refugees in Ottawa. Princess Margriet was born, where the maternity ward of the hospital where she was born was temporarily declared extraterritorial, so she could gain her citizenship from her mother. Also, Canada liberated Netherlands from German occupation during a famine and harsh winter. In eternal gratitude, Netherlands would send thousands of tulips (their national flower) to Ottawa annually.
The Suez Crisis was a military attack on Egypt by British, French and Isreali forces, which could have easily escalated into another war, if Canada hadn't stepped in and introduced peacekeeping as a solution. Future Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson who suggested the idea would later win a Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts and become known as the father of peacekeeping.
During the Battle of Kapyong, the Canadian troops were so overwhelmed by the Chinese forces that at one point, Canada had to call down artillery fire on themselves. Later, Australian Major Bernard O'Dowd managed to ask for reinforcements. Incredulous, the answering forces thought that the Canadians and Australians were all wiped out. What Australia said from above was exactly what O'Dowd said. In the end, when the Chinese retreated, there were 32 Australian losses, 10 Canadian losses and over 1000 losses from the Chinese.
The Soviet coach had once commented that the Canadians rebound back into the game "battling with the ferocity and intensity of a cornered animal." And they did. The quote above was said by journalist Dick Beddose.
In 1992 and 1993, the Toronto Blue Jays won the World Series, the first and only team outside of the United States to do so.
Operation Yellow Ribbon was an event where Transit Canada took the responsibility of re-routing all American flights during 9/11 to Canadian airports, doing full security scans, feeding and housing all passengers and crew.
I know there was another group who sang "O Canada" during the closing ceremonies of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics, but I thought it would be a nice touch if Canada herself sang the national anthem.