England held the tiny bundle in his arms tighter. She was his biological daughter, the only perfect thing England had ever achieved. Snow swirled through the air around them. The child in England's arms began to cry.
"Rockabye baby, on the tree top"
She was literally freezing to death. England struggled to unbutton the front of his coat so he could hold his baby closer in a futile attempt to warm her up. The cold wind stung England's face as he wrapped his child in his coat.
"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock"
She was an almost perfect copy of him, with a fuzz of blonde hair, green eyes and the distinctive thick eyebrows. Her tiny lips were blue,and snowflakes dusted her eyelashes. England shivered, then frowned. He couldn't loose his body heat. It was the only thing keeping his daughter alive. The baby's mother had died soon after she was born. The child was all that England had of the only woman he had ever loved.
"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall"
The child's cries subsided. England could feel her lack of energy. The nation trudged faster through the snow, rushing to save his nameless daughter. Her soft heartbeat was slowing. England could feel tears on his cheeks freezing in the sub – zero temperatures. His child couldn't die, her life had hardly started. God wouldn't be cruel enough to take everything England had of that single day he had spent as part of a family.
England felt the baby in his arms go limp. She was gone. Her eyes were now dull and glassy, staring up at England as if to say " Why did you let me die? A good father wouldn't let their child die."
" And down will come baby, cra~dle and all."
808
I have no Idea what this is, or how it came to be. I don't own hetalia.