Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Among the Flowers
It was a bright and sunny morning, and Arthur paused to take in the natural beauty of the golden sun glistening on the blades of lush, green grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. He had taken Alfred, his adopted little brother, back to the field where he had first found him, and now the young nation was dashing around, investigating everything again like he had been doing when Arthur came across him. Alfred's sky-blue eyes lit up as he gazed at a pretty clump of wild flowers growing under an old oak tree, his blonde hair catching the sunlight and making him look angelic in his surroundings.
"Look, England!" the boy yelled, beaming at his new discovery. Arthur smiled, finding it hard to believe his luck on finding this nation, America, almost literally under a hedge. The boy had informed Arthur that he was America, and the older nation introduced himself as England in return. Alfred had been wary of him at first, which was understandable, but he soon warmed up to Arthur's smiles and comforting words. He even told Alfred a story about how these fields were home to faeries and friendly spirits and maybe even a sprite if you looked closely. Alfred was captivated by the story, and asked for another story once Arthur was finished. In fact, he almost begged, his expression so sweet that Arthur couldn't say no. He still couldn't, not when Alfred pulled that puppy-dog face and gave a small pout.
"What have you found, America?" England asked, wandering over casually to see the flowers more clearly. The younger nation pointed at the clump of brightly coloured petals and jumped up and down in excitement.
"What are their names?" Alfred asked eagerly, pointing to some flowers with small, white petals and some flowers which had pink, bell-shaped petals that hung down from the stems elegantly.
"Well, the white flowers are commonly called White Deadnettle. The leaves won't sting you, however, and the nectar at the base is very important for bumblebees." Arthur stated calmly, cupping one of the flowers in his hand gently, before releasing it again and gesturing to the pink flowers. "Those are Foxgloves, pretty but they are poisonous so don't touch them, okay?"
The younger nation nodded. "They look so pretty…" he thought, mainly to himself, and Arthur nodded.
"I know a rumour about Foxgloves…do you want to hear it, Alfred?" he asked, and the boy nodded, sitting down cross-legged next to the flowers, but keeping his distance from the Foxgloves like Arthur had warned him.
"I heard that there are some faeries who live in the Foxgloves petals, sleeping in the little bell-shapes and consuming the pollen inside. Sometimes, in winter, the Foxgloves get so cold that they shrivel up, but the faeries' magic keeps the flowers alive. Each Foxglove has a faery living inside, because faeries, even though they are very sweet and kind, do not always get along well with each other."
Alfred was listening with interest, stealing glances at the nearest Foxglove to him to see if he could spot any faeries living there.
"They also make friends with the bees who come to visit them, and give them some pollen as a gift, asking if the bees could spread the pollen around the area, so there could be more homes for the ever-increasing faery population. Faeries grow up very quickly, but when their wings are fully grown, they remain in an almost dormant state of growing, and they stay the same age for a lot longer than a year." Both Arthur and Alfred were so caught up in the older nation's voice that they did not notice it begin to get dark until Alfred could only see the green of Arthur's eyes and almost point out England's dirty-blonde hair.
England finished speaking and stood, offering his hand to America. Alfred took it eagerly, hauling himself up.
"I think it's time to go back, don't you?" Arthur asked, and Alfred nodded.
"Can we come back tomorrow?" the boy was using his puppy-dog expression again, and Arthur let out a small sigh, before nodding in defeat.
"I suppose so…"
"Yay!" Alfred beamed, before dragging Arthur back the way they had come, rambling excitedly about seeing the faeries in the flowers and such.
Arthur wasn't listening, but he suddenly had a small feeling of dread, although he wasn't sure why or what it was about. England merely shrugged it off.
Yes, Alfred. We can come back tomorrow…
And the next day…
And the next…
Until you grow up, and forget all about me…
Yes, that day will come…
But not now…
Not today…
A/N: Thank you for reading!
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