2019

Quebec internally screamed as he shook hands with the American nation in front of him. He smiled widely and tried to hide his rising panic. He could feel Ontario's eyes burn into the back of his head, trying to figure out why he was freaking out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"I'm Jacques, by the way. Jacques Durand." He let go of the other's hand, the nation's hand and fought to keep the relaxed grin on his face.

The nation's eyes twinkled and he laughed. "Hiya Jacques, I'm Alfred! Alfred F. Jones! Nice to meet you!"

Quebec felt his stomach sink and contract as America stood there and laughed, unaware that he was close to one of the world's most closeted secrets.

Quebec bit his tongue and let the sharp pain keep him from screaming aloud. Instead, he replied back, "Nice to meet you too."

1867

For the first time in his existence, he opened his eyes to a bright light. His head started to hurt and he turned his head to the side and used his arm to block the light. What was that giant ball of light in the sky?

The Sun.

A gentle voice whispered the answer into his ear. If he listened close enough, he could feel the wind wrap itself around him.

What was he? He listened closely for the gentle voice in the wind but there was none. He felt a sense of dread wash over him. He slowly sat up and his head whipped around him. As if responding to his terror, he felt something in him tell him to walk over the large mound of earth - a hill the wind told him but then instantly disappeared again - and look there for his answer. It was a gut feeling, a deep instinct rooted in his very being.

There was a large body of water, a river, and he didn't hesitate to jump in the water. He instantly regretted it. The icy cold water froze him to his very bones. It felt like an eternity until he reached the other side of the river. The tugging in his gut had dramatically increased and he stumbled, wet and shivering, until he found what he had been subconsciously looking for. A small boy with light hair - so different to his own dark hair yet they fit together so nicely - laid down on the unforgiving earth just as he had himself a short while ago. Why wasn't he awake yet like him?

The unknowing province laid eyes on his counterpart and smiled. He maneuvered his small body to sit on his knees and gently shook the other boy.

To his surprise the other boy's eyes shot open and he sprang up into a sitting position. He was surprised but didn't show it as his eyes locked onto the other's. Deep green eyes peered into his hazel ones and he watched the fair haired boy's mouth try to shape the words he wanted to speak. He waited for a moment; it didn't matter to him how long it took, he was content to watch the other silently.

Finally the light haired boy asked, "Who are you?"

He paused. He waited for the wind to tell him the answer but he didn't need to. Suddenly, it was clear to him. He didn't need the wind to tell him the answer. This one could be felt in every crevice of him, it was his identity, everyone and everything he was. Suddenly, he knew his name.

He smiled. "Je suis Québec."

It felt natural to him.

The other boy frowned. "Okay. Who am I?"

Quebec laughed. "You'll have to tell me that yourself."

He received a scowl in response. He had a feeling he was going to get used to seeing that expression on his counterpart's face.

It took a few moment but the other boy managed to collect himself enough to say, "I think I'm called Ontario."

It wouldn't occur to him that they had communicated fluently across 3 different tongues - Nation, English, and French - until later. For now, Quebec laid his head down beside his fellow province and closed his eyes, ignoring the thoughts that suddenly sprang up.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Ontario shivered and he couldn't tell it if was because of the cold, him, or because he could feel the sense of wrongness in him too. Quebec wrapped his arms around Ontario as he tried to rid himself of the strange feeling of something crawling up his throat trying to escape.

WRONG

Quebec held onto Ontario tighter and tried to ignore it. It doesn't work.

They don't find Nova Scotia or New Brunswick until 3 months later. Ontario finds a red headed girl trying to hit Quebec and feels a deep anger begun to rise in him until he sees that Quebec is laughing.

"Ontario," Quebec says with tears of laughter in his eyes, "we're not alone."

He gestures to the red headed girl and the shy brown haired boy standing a short distance away.

Ontario narrows his eyes in Quebec's direction. In his mind he shouts,

You're not alone, you're with me!

Somehow, Quebec understands what he's trying to tell him and with a soft smile grabs onto his hand and holds it tightly.

Ontario looks away quickly but tries hard to conceal his pleased smile. He's not sure he succeeds based on Quebec's widening smile. It makes something stir in him, very different to the lingering wrongness he still felt sometimes when it was dark and he was by himself. They would always seek out the other whenever the feeling returned; it was the only way to help.

Ontario feels his lips move upwards in what he calls a half-smile and the new shy province walks forwards with a small smile of his own.

"I'm Ontario and this is Quebec. Who are you?"

The red head girl clearly wants to answer but after a glance at the shy boy she relents.

The shy boy laughs softly. "I'm New Brunswick." He points to the red haired girl. "She's Nova Scotia." A short pause. "Are you like us?"

Ontario doesn't hesitate to reply. "Yes."

1870

Ontario stands off to the side, angry at the injustice caused by his people. Quebec tries to appease him. "At least we're getting another one of us. That's good right?"

Ontario shoots him a dark glance and refuses to respond. They silently watch the province of Manitoba open his eyes for the first time. Quebec tries to smile at the wary new province but all he can feel is a sickly feeling in his stomach. It feels very similar to pity.

Ontario lets out a disgruntled sound and turns away. "Why would another one of us be good?"

Quebec watches Manitoba's face scrunch up with what he recognized as feeling the complete and utter sense of wrong about himself, and Quebec couldn't help but agree.

A week later, they bump into a small girl with a beautiful smile from the North. She tells them tales of snow and the spirits and her peoples. They watch over her until she chooses to return to her people, but promises to return after the snow begins to melt in their lands. She calls herself Nunatsiaq, but tells them that they can call her Northwest Territories.

1871

British Columbia doesn't meet any of the other provinces. She is unaware of why, not knowing that she is too far for them to reach her. She fists her hands into her light hair and screams and scream and screams. She finds a place to stay, a nice woman who cares for her like her own and sings to her but nothing can block the feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong in her. She feels it moving through her veins alongside her blood. The feeling doesn't disappear until she meets Alberta and Saskatchewan, the latter who holds onto the former with a desperate intensity. She would feel envious if it weren't for the fact that she tries not to feel anything at all. She stares stone-faced at the two provinces in front of her and introduces herself.

"British Columbia."

The two speak to her, but after a while go away, which was perfectly fine by her. She was used to feeling out of place.

1873

Prince Edward Island chooses to go by Edward alone, feeling his full name is too much a mouthful. He tries to make his way to the mainland, but fails to do so. He keeps a count of the number of failed attempts he's made. Of course, it's very difficult, especially for the young province. He is literally an island. The hollow feeling of wrong doesn't help his anxious behaviour either. When Nova Scotia finally arrives with an irritated look on her face, Edward laughs and wraps his arms around her. Almost immediately, the wrongness disappears as though it was never there. Nova Scotia gives him a moment to balance himself before he's being pushed away. She explains who and what they are. Edward listens to her and grins happily. He never wants to be alone ever again.

1898

Yukon appears like a phantom from the wind. There is no one around to witness the creation of a new province. She stays with her people, refusing to give into the urge to follow the tugging in her gut. She spends months trying to ignore the sense of wrong in her. It dissipates the moment she lays eyes on another girl with dark hair and a free spirit. She tells her to call her Northwest Territories. Yukon refuses to do so and only calls her Nunatsiaq.

1905

Unlike Ontario and Quebec, Alberta and Saskatchewan don't find each other until three days later. During those three days, the tired, confused, scared provinces try to follow the pull in their gut, but all they can feel is the wrongness. When they finally find each other, they don't say anything. Instead Saskatchewan curls her hand into a fist and drives it into Alberta's face with a furious cry. Alberta is astonished until Saskatchewan leans into her and starts to cry. For once, the sense of wrong was gone. The two female provinces stay together in that position until the sun set.

1949

Newfoundland and Labrador doesn't like their name. It implies that there is more of them when there is only one of them. An inner sense of wrong, wrong, wrong beats along with their heartbeat like a drum and it very nearly drives them insane. They aren't left alone for long when a red headed boy much older than them with dancing eyes like chocolate greets them. The wrongness disappears soon after. Edward greets the bewildered new province with glee, as the small brunettes dark eyes peer up at him. They tell him their name and the boy cries, "Newfie!" with a loud shout of joy.

A few years later, they tell Edward and the other provinces to call them Avery and use 'them'. Edward immediately drops the 'he' as do the other provinces. It fills Avery with a sudden warmth. It takes the others a while to get used to the switch, and they slip up many times. They get many apologies, but Avery doesn't mind. Somehow, they knew that others would not be so accepting, but for now their other provinces' acceptance was enough.

1999

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.

When Nunavut is created he is not alone. When he opens his eyes, there is a dark haired teenage girl staring at him. When she notices him looking she smiles broadly and tells him to call her Northwest Territories, but 'North' for short. She says that his land used to be a part of her, but since they now split, she was waiting for him to appear. When she doesn't see him looking, a dark aura hangs around her, a mixture of heartache and sorrow. He doesn't notice the pain-filled looks she casts him every so often.

-Madsinator (3/4/19)