November 13, 1775

Quebec was convinced that Thirteen Colonies had lost his mind. It was bad enough that he was fighting against their father, but to invade Quebec's land? To try and pull Quebec into his foolish rebellion?

Quebec hated him for it.

What he hated even more was that things seemed to be going well for him. He had besieged Boston and Uncle England, he had injured Uncle England severely, and was now having success in Quebec's land as well.

Quebec was thankful when General Guy Carleton had managed to fight back a rebel force in September and take their leader captive, but now it seemed to have been all for naught. In their focus on attacking that rebel force, they ignored another force that had been laying siege to Fort Saint-Jean.

Fort Saint-Jean was a crucial part of their defense strategy. It was the last fortification between the rebel army and Montreal. Quebec had hoped it would hold, but the rebel army had captured it ten days prior. There was nothing to stop them from taking Montreal now.

"General Carleton, what are we going to do now?" Quebec asked. The rebels were near and would be at the city soon, and Quebec refused to be captured. He had to prove that he was a loyal son of the British Empire and had to prove to his father that he would not join the Thirteen Colonies in his mad schemes.

It was the duty of Quebec and the other colonies in the area, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and even little St. John's Island, to ensure that their lands did not join in rebellion and that they stayed a part of the empire that loved them so.

Quebec wished that Thirteen Colonies was a part of the invading force, wished that the man was not holed up in the safety of his Boston siege so that Quebec could force him to go to London or somewhere else, away from the rebels, so their father could purge the madness from his mind.

"We will defend the city, but you will fall back. We cannot let the rebels corrupt another colony's personification," General Carleton said. Quebec scowled.

"I am not as weak-willed as my brother that I can be corrupted into—" he began, angry, before General Carleton cut him off.

"Quebec. Please listen. It is your father's orders that no colony is to be captured by the rebels like Thirteen Colonies was. These are your father's orders, and you are to obey them," he said, voice stern. Quebec immediately backed down, bowing his head slightly.

"Of course, sir, my apologies," Quebec said before leaving. He needed to grab his personal items before he could depart. Better not to let the rebels get their hands on them.

He hated Thirteen Colonies for doing this to them. Father said it was because Thirteen Colonies had been corrupted that rebellions could cause a certain kind of madness in countryhumans, a trait he said was more common in colonies than in countries. He said that although Thirteen Colonies had been misled, they must forgive him once his behavior had been corrected and his mind fixed in order to remind him where he belonged and that his family did love him, despite what the rebels claimed.

Quebec still found it easier to blame Thirteen Colonies.

After all, things had been going well before his rebellion. Quebec got a new father—a better father—he got to be at peace, he got a wonderful new family, and things had been going well. Then, Thirteen Colonies grew irritable and selfish, and suddenly, everyone was suffering from it, from the punishments they all shared. They all wanted him to stop, but he ran away, ignored their letters, and then injured their uncle.

Father had been furious about that.

Quebec still felt like he could feel the bruises from that. He didn't like that Father had punished them, but some colonies were lying in the wake of Uncle England's injury, and it was better to punish them all to ensure they all stayed in line as Father dealt with a growing crisis. Father didn't need more stress on his hands.

So Quebec would obey, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he wanted to scream and fight and do everything he could to hold on to Montreal.

He had his orders. He could fight the rebels off again another day.

The rebels had no hope of winning against the empire. Hopefully, soon, they would see that.

• ───────────────── •

December 3, 1775

United Colonies was excited about his new flag. As much as he loved the Red Ensign, which had been his flag for so many years, with the conflict that had been happening, with his new flag, his new strength, it was time for a new flag.

The Union Jack was going to be kept on his face; that was a given, another way to profess to his father that he loved him, that he was loyal, and that he would come home as soon as his people's rights were recognized. The rest of the flag would be thirteen stripes of red and white, one for each of the colonies that were currently making a ruckus in his head.

"After that Proclamation of Rebellion, I don't know why we are even entertaining the idea of having a Union Jack on our face. It's clear Grandfather will never believe our loyalty. We might as well go all the way." the voice that called himself Massachusetts said. United Colonies sighed.

"Must you all be discontent with everything I have to say," he muttered quietly.

"Only when the things you have to say are dumb," the voice that called himself Connecticut said, sounding so insufferably smug. United Colonies sighed, wishing there was more he could say to them. However, he was in public, so he would have to settle for ignoring them.

The first appearance of his new flag would be at the commissioning of Admiral Esek Hopkins' flagship. United Colonies had decided it would be best to watch the commissioning so he could see the exact moment he would get his flag.

"Excited, are we?" the voice that called herself Pennsylvania said.

"Of course! This is the first time we get to pick the flag! And we're all represented in it! Even me, and I'm still legally a part of you, Penny-Pen!" the voice that called himself Delaware said, excitement clear in his voice. United Colonies couldn't help the smile that spread at that.

There was something about them that really just warmed his heart.

"See? Is it so wrong to acknowledge us?" The unfamiliar male voice said. United Colonies scowled and crossed his arms, deciding to ignore voices for now and focus on the ship in front of him and the flag he could see at the top of its mast.

Eventually, the commissioning ceremony ended, and United Colonies looked down at his hands, seeing that they still held the same Union Jack pattern they had since the Union Jack was formed.

United Colonies then rolled up his sleeves, seeing the new red and white stripes on his forearm. He smiled at that, happy to see that he had his new flag.

It was beautiful.

• ───────────────── •

December 31, 1775

Quebec could not believe the audacity of the rebels. Attacking Quebec City in the middle of a blizzard? It was an insane plan, one that had to be brought on by desperation. Battles were rarely fought in the winter if one could avoid it.

But if the rebels were defeated by their own incompetence, Quebec welcomed it. The sooner this rebellion ended, the better for everyone.

The rebels were not having much luck. Whether it was the storm, fear, or some other reason, maybe of the rebels began to flee the battle as the grapeshot began. As much as Quebec hated seeing the traitors getaway, it was good to see their invasion of his land halted and pushed back.

The back and forth continued for a while, but more and more rebels fled as they realized their defeat was inevitable, as they realized they could not breach Quebec City's defenses. Quebec felt pride well up in him. The sooner he drove off the rebels, the sooner he could prove his loyalty and devotion to his father and empire.

They had driven them away from Quebec City. Now, they just had to drive them away from the rest of Quebec's land. Suddenly, Quebec's internal celebration was cut off by someone tapping his shoulder.

"What?" he snapped, turning around to see a young soldier standing there.

"Rebels have breached the northern walls and entered the city," the messenger said. Quebec barked out a harsh curse.

"Where's General Carleton?" Quebec asked. The messenger gestured for Quebec to follow him. Quebec's happiness had plummeted, anxiety flooding through him as he tried to figure out what had happened. Was the force he drove off just a feint? Were these troops part of the actual attack? Was he about to be captured by the rebels and dragged off to be corrupted by his mad brother?

Approaching General Carleton, Quebec was quick to blurt out his questions, fearing that this was all just a repeat of Montreal.

"No, the rebels are confused. I think whatever force you drove back must have been a backup force. I'm reorganizing the defense into an attack force now. I promise you, Quebec, we will not give up this city," General Carleton said. Quebec nodded, tightening his grip on his weapon.

"Tell me where you need me to be," he said. Quebec was then reorganized into another unit, as he refused General Carleton's offer to stay out of the battle. If this really was the battle where they drove the rebels back, he needed to be a part of it.

The rebels then entered the street Quebec's reorganized forces were on, and the fight quickly began, right there in the streets of Quebec City.

Then, the greatest windfall of the battle occurred. Many of the rebel guns seemed not to be working, probably as a result of the weather. Not only that, but the rebels also seemed to be running out of ammunition.

Hope fluttered in Quebec's chest as he realized he would win this battle.

Finally, the rebels realized their situation was hopeless and surrendered. And Quebec felt months of stress leave his shoulders at the realization that he was not going to fall to the rebel army.

They would drive the rebels out of his land and then out of Thirteen Colonies' land, and his family would be made whole once more.