"I'm just saying, lassies, we could benefit from a Maritime Union," Nova Scotia states, his bright blue eyes focused on a point in the distance of their usual meeting place, a glass of alcohol clutched in his hand. "Join the three of us together and we could actually get something done," he continues. "It's not like Québec and Ontario—" He cuts himself off to laugh. "Sorry, Canada East and West. It's not like they're getting anything done. We could take charge."

"I suppose..." New Brunswick murmurs, fiddling with the loose strings at the front of her dress, her head tilted to face her feet. "It does sound nice. You and PEI are already siblings, so I would be joining you?"

"We would make it more official, obviously?" Prince Edward Island inquires, casting a quick glance to her older brother over the lip of her own glass. "I do like the idea of actually taking charge. Do you think Newfoundland would be interested?"

"I doubt it, but it's worth the shot, I say!" Nova Scotia claims, winking at both ladies and tilting his drink towards each of them in turn.

They drink together, not noticing the approaching figure until a hand touches Nova Scotia's shoulder. All three Atlantic provinces jump in place, Nova Scotia nearly spilling his drink onto his little sister. He spins around to see Canada looking back at them, his face red.

"O-Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Canada apologizes, brushing out his coat just because his hands need something to do. "Hey, uh...could my province be included in those negotiations, by any chance?"

Prince Edward Island's eyes widen slightly whilst New Brunswick makes a tiny gasping noise. Nova Scotia arches an eyebrow as a hesitant smile crosses his freckled face.

"You want to join up?" he clarifies. "And by you...it's all three of you?"

"My boss told me that I should bring it up," Canada mumbles, his face turning a shade pinker at the words. "I, as the main voice of the Province of Canada, am supposed to ask. It could fix a lot of problems."

"You think so?" Prince Edward Island asks. She smiles lightly and takes a dainty sip of her drink. "I don't see the harm in it. Nova, NB, the request can get channeled through Monck and the Colonial Office, just to make sure."

"That sounds fine," New Brunswick murmurs. "Canada...will Monsieur Québec be there?" she adds, her cheeks gaining a bit more colour.

Canada opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted. "If he is, West must be coming too," Nova Scotia states as his nose wrinkles slightly. "Ontario will behave himself, won't he? His boss will be there?"

"Yes, as will mine, Québec's, and all of yours hopefully." Canada offers a soft smile. "Britain will be attending only to introduce some of his colonies to me, but...they won't be involved in the negotiations."

"Well then, a toast to prosperity in the future of these great colonies," Prince Edward Island says, lifting her glass and giving Canada a pointed look. Her red hair rustles in the breeze. "Hopefully, a soon to be great nation."

They cheers. Canada's heart pounds as excitement floods him. A nation, he thinks. A NATION!

----------

"Alright, are you two ready?" Britain asks.

It is September 1, 1864, the day of the Charlottetown Conference. Standing before Britain is an elegant hall filled to the brim with music and the ringing of laughter. It's an enticing spectacle.

Britain turns his back to the hall to face his companions: two girls who are standing rather closely to each other. One girl is tall and slender with light brown skin and dark, smouldering eyes. Her brown hair is done up in a high bun, allowing more of her delicate smile to be seen from all sides.

Beside her is a much younger girl with curly black hair and the same brown eyes, although they're more deeply set in her face. Both girls have the same petite nose, but the black-haired girl's smile is a lot wider and more smirky in nature. They wear dresses, perfect for the occasion of a professional, political gathering.

"Yes, we are," the brunette says.

"Do we really get to meet Mr. Canada?" the second cuts in.

"Yes, yes, that's why I brought you two here," Britain says. "Now remember—" He clears his throat and beckons the girls closer. They obey. "Northwest Territories, you are free to mention that you've been fur trading and that you're in the middle of a few transfers between nations." The brunette, Northwest Territories, nods. Britain looks to the Asian girl. "British Columbia, you can talk about..."

"That I've been living with you for a while but you're thinking that it's time for me to spread my wings and fly!" British Columbia cuts in, flinging her arms out to the sides and spinning around.

Britain clears his throat and gives her a stern look. She stops instantly, giggling as she fixes her hair. Britain's mouth falls into a soft smile and he nods.

"Yes, that'll do, BC," he says. He steps between the two girls and does an about face, holding his arms out for them to take. "Come along, we mustn't be too tardy."

The girls take his arms and the three go walking towards the bustling hub. The first person to greet them when they reach the door is a familiar redhead. She smiles when she sees them coming and waves. British Columbia's eyes widen noticeably and she starts gesturing wildly for Northwest Territories' attention. The native girl remains polite, albeit she's just as curious about the woman.

"Mister Britain," the redheaded woman greets. She looks to the colonies at his sides. "These are the guests you spoke of?"

"In the flesh," Britain says. "Girls, this woman is Prince Edward Island."

"Oh! This is your house!" Northwest Territories realizes with a gentle gasp. She curtsies. "Lovely to meet you, miss. Charlottetown is lovely from what I've seen on the trip so far."

"Your hair is insane!" British Columbia exclaims. "It's just as red as Uncle Scotland's!"

"BC, have some dignity!" Britain snaps. Prince Edward Island giggles and Britain gives her an apologetic sigh. "So sorry, she's very energetic. This is British Columbia. She's from the western side of the continent, so I'm sure the excitement of the east is just getting to her."

"Mmhmm!" British Columbia agrees, bouncing slightly in place and making her dress skirt sway.

Prince Edward Island offers them a soft smile. "It's quite alright. I'm sure that I would be excited too if I ever visited the west." There's a shout and some glass breaking from far off and she gasps, eyes widening as she turns around. "Oh, gosh..." she mutters. "I knew there was too much champagne." She spins back to them. "So sorry, but I've got to handle this. Please excuse me." She dashes off. 

Britain glances down to each of his colonies and nods. "Alright, that was your first meeting. Well done, except for that comment about the hair."

"Sorry," British Columbia mumbles.

"Just don't do that again, savvy?" Both girls nod. Britain clears his throat. "Great, now if we could just find Canada in this mess."

"What does he look like?" Northwest Territories asks.

"Um...blonde, blue eyes? No, violet...or were they green?" Britain sighs. "Damn, not sure about the eyes actually. I don't know, assume that they're like France's." He gasps as he snaps his fingers. "Oh, and Canada's got a weird curl, very long. Let's look about, and try to stay civilized."

"Yes, sir," Northwest Territories murmurs, bowing her head.

British Columbia's dark eyes dart everywhere, sparkling like the bubbles in the plentiful champagne glasses. As the trio moves through the well-dressed crowds, the girl occasionally rams her elbow into Northwest Territories stomach in an attempt to get her to see something interesting, like a lady's exquisite dress or the table of food set out for snacking. Northwest Territories regards her excitement with polite nods and murmurs of "that's nice, Victoria", but never loses her poise and elegance.

"Blast," Britain mutters, stopping next to one of the many champagne tables. He snatches a glass and takes a sip, swirling the drink as he scans the room. "No sign of Canada. Odd..."

"Britain!"

The trio startles and turns to the voice just as Ontario muscles his way past a clustered group of politicians, grinning widely. Québec trails along behind him, champagne glass in one hand and cigarette in the other. British Columbia instantly "oo's" and smacks Northwest Territories' arm repeatedly. 

Ontario jolts to a stop in front of Britain, instantly losing the childish smile in lieu of a professional simper. He adjusts his spectacles. "I mean, good evening, Mister Britain," he corrects. He bows his head to the ladies at the country's side. "And guests."

"Good evening, Canada West," Britain responds. He bows his head to him, then turns to Québec. "And good evening, Canada East. Wonderful party."

"Bonjour, Angleterre," Québec says, taking a quick drag from his cigarette. His eyes glisten as he smirks. "I'm glad you like it." He eyes the two colonies, eyebrow arching. "And who are these lovely mademoiselles?"

Northwest Territories' tanned cheeks turn pink and British Columbia gapes at him, stars alight in her eyes.

"Ah, yes, this is Northwest Territories," Britain says with a gesture to the taller girl, "and British Columbia." Another gesture. "Two of my colonies. I'm hoping that they'll be able to meet Canada."

"You're gorgeous," British Columbia states, eyes locked on Québec. "Are you related to Mister France?"

Québec smirks. "Oui, he is mon papa."

British Columbia hums, fluttering her eyelashes. "You speak beautifully too."

Ontario nearly bowls Québec over as he lunges forward and takes Northwest Territories' hand, bowing to her. "It's an honour to meet you," he says. "I'm Canada West, but you can call me Ontario or Oliver or whatever you please." He straightens up, clearing his throat with a nervous laugh as he ruffles his hair. 

Northwest blinks a few times, still red. "Ah...yes, thank you," she says. "Oliver." Ontario also turns red, turning his face to the floor.

Britain sighs. "Children, please, have some dignity," he scolds. "There's no need to get this flustered over meeting new people." 

"Sorry, Britain," the colonies say, minus Québec. He just takes another sip of his champagne.

"Now, have any of you seen Canada?" he continues. "We'd like to speak with him."

From behind them comes a soft, timid voice. "Uh...I'm right here."

All five people whirl around to find Canada standing by the table, red-faced with a champagne flute clutched in his hands. Britain clears his throat and lets out a jovial chuckle.

"Dear chap, you must stop sneaking up on people like that," he says, striding forward to give Canada a clap on the back. "We've been looking everywhere!"

"I've...uh, been trying to get your attention since you ran into PEI," the younger prospective nation mumbles, staring into his glass. "But, that's fine. Sorry."

"No matter, we found you now," Britain says. "Canada, these are my girls." He rattles off introductions and the girls curtsy. 

Canada bows. "Nice to meet you."

"Is the Conference meeting starting soon?" Britain asks.

"I believe so," he replies. He looks out at the room. "Our bosses will talk it over together, and I'll gather everyone else for our own talk. Hopefully, everything works out."

There's another crash from far off in the room and Canada startles. There's a few drunken whoops and giggles from the crowd and the group can just see Nova Scotia go racing away from the noise, followed closely by a rapidly apologizing Newfoundland, with Prince Edward Island shouting at them to come clean up their mess. New Brunswick, in a blushing, muttering mess, keeps apologizing to the nearby guests.

"Oh maple," Canada mutters. He looks to the others. "I'm sorry, I think I should go find my boss and suggest that the alcohol be toned down before things get too crazy." He turns to go, then stops and bows to the colonies yet again. "Again, lovely to meet you."

He dashes off.

British Columbia laughs, gazing up at Britain. "I like him," she says. 

Northwest Territories nods. "Mhm, he seems very nice."

Britain shrugs his shoulders. "Yes, he is a good boy," he states. He turns to Ontario and Québec. "Would you two mind showing my girls around? I need to have some business conversations, something about appointing a Governor General, and..." He eyes the champagne. "Uh, perhaps have another drink or two."

"Gladly," Ontario chirps.

"Thank you, boys. It's good to have obedient sons."

"Je ne suis pas votre fils," Québec mumbles.

Britain wanders away. British Columbia instantly latches onto Québec's arm, leaving Northwest Territories to take Ontario's. The four of them head off into the party together.

"Oh, I remember," Northwest Territories says with a small gasp. "I was asked about an intercolonial railway going through my land, linking the Maritimes to the rest of Canada. Is that a possibility?"

Ontario dons a proud grin. "I will make it possible." He notices Québec giving him the stink-eye. "I mean...we, as a province of Canada, will make it possible."

"Merci," Québec says with a smirk, although his tone is slightly cold.

British Columbia bounces as she walks, jostling the Frenchman at her side slightly. "This is all so exciting. One day, maybe I can be a part of all this."

"That's what Mister Britain wants," Northwest Territories says with a smile. "If everyone is as nice as they appear to be, I won't be opposed either."

The two Canadas eye one another sideways, sharing a covert nod. If they ever want to exist as their own people again, they need Canada to become a nation.