Canada x Little reader! Sick Maple (prologue)

It had been a six months since Matthew had adopted _____ and over that time he had grown very protective and loving towards the child. To be honest everyone doted on her, even the strongest will could not compete with the large brown eyes and the coldest of hearts completely melted at her merry little chortle.

Never again did Canada ever feel irrelevant or unnoticed, neither did it even matter to him anymore what the rest of the world thought. All that mattered was his little maple.
_____ regarded all of those close to her differently and each member of her ‘family’ were absolutely incredible.

Uncle Alfie was chief playmate and the leader in their adventures who seemed to exist simply to make her giggle with new games and ideas to share with his “awesome sidekick”.

Uncle Arthur was a legend in his own right who knew everything worth knowing and was the best at keeping secrets and telling stories, especially ones about little princesses with red and white dresses.

'Papy' or Francis was her best customer when it came peddling hugs and kisses was the best comforter. The Frenchman always knew just how to delight her girlish side by braiding her hair or patiently waiting as little noses smelt every flower in his extensive garden, little eyes searching for the fairies Arthur told her about.

The child also had many friends such as “the awesome Gilby” who would play with her when he visited and always brought his little yellow bird that so often barely escaped ____’s strangling hugs.

On several occasions ____ had been to world meetings, only to be adored by every country that existed (and Sealand…) and more than once she had stood on the end of the large table with her arms spread open wide exclaiming “I loves the WHOLE WORLD” as the countries sighed and cooed the cute child.

But it didn’t matter how many people she loved or how many countries she met the child’s number one, and forever hero was her papa, a feeling that was very much mutual.

It was a lazy evening for Francis Bonnefoy, after a long day of busy meetings and paperwork he was lazing in his elegant sunroom with a platter of cheese samples and a bottle of vintage wine as his only company. Everything was peaceful and serene….that it was peaceful and serene until his phone began to ring loudly.

With an audible sigh he answered only to be greeted with an anxious “Papa! I need your help right now! Something’s wrong with ____! Dépêchez s'il vous plait!”

Without a moment to lose Francis bolted out of the room, not a bothering to grab his coat or even hang up the phone. He was gone from his French chateau within seconds leaving the wine that had been in his hand to slowly soak into the carpeted floor.