note: dA. "Memories ~Daddy!AKxChild!R~" maybe sad?
"_____! Why are you so dirty?! Go take a bath right this instant, young lady!" The Englishman had an angry look on his face as he stared at the small, dirt-covered girl.
"But Daddy! Look! I found a box!" The small girl held up a small gray box, a big smile on her face.
The Brit's face paled as he stared down at the object, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Daddy?"
"Don't ask about it, darling. Just... Give the box to father and go take a bath, alright?"
_____ had a confused look on her face, but did as she was told.
Once the child had left, though, her father broke down, quietly sobbing.
He thought he had buried the memories a long, long time ago... Never to be found...
... But why had his daughter found what memories he preserved of his dead ex-wife...? Of her mother...?
Standing up, the Englishman sniffled, wiping at his eyes while heading towards his room.
He sat on the soft bed, swallowing the lump in his throat whilst opening the box up, finding a few smaller objects; some were folded up, and others were just as small as to fit into it easily.
He gently poured the contents of the old artifact onto the blankets, trying to push down his emotions.
First, the thing that caught his eye the most, was the jumble of folded-up papers.
Unfolding them, hot tears came to his green eyes as he stared at past experiences and old, un-forgotten memories.
A -insert random hair colour here- haired female, smiling brightly in the picture, a smudge of ice-cream on her nose...
A tall, well-dressed blond and a beautiful, equally well-dressed -hair color name (i.e. brunette, blonde, ginger...)- female, dancing...
The same two people, now in later years, the female holding a small baby...
Letting out a shaky sigh, the male let the old memories flutter onto the bed as he picked up the next thing.
It was his ex-wife's necklace, the first thing he had ever given her.
The chain on it was silver, as well as the rest of it. But in the center of the charm-like part was a beautiful ruby, in the shape of a heart.
He sniffled again, gently placing it beside him while picking up the last thing.
The ring that had been thrown at him the day -insert name that isn't your's here- died.
The Brit broke down again, quiet sobs racking his body.
"Daddy? Are you okay?"
"Y-yes, darling. Daddy's, okay..."
_____ pouted slightly, going over to the bed. She tried pulling herself onto it, with a lot of difficulty.
Once she was up on the mattress, though, she wrapped her tiny arms around her father.
"Daddy Artie, what's wrong?" she asks, a concerned tone in her voice.
"D-don't worry about it, dear..." He sniffled again, rubbing his eyes. Arthur gently wrapped an arm around her, placing the pictures and ring back into the box, but keeping the necklace out.
"Whose's that, Daddy?"
"It was your mother's..."
"Oh. It's really pretty. Was Mommy really pretty, too, Daddy? Just like the necklace?"
"Yes, she was, sweetie. Just like you are." He gently kisses her forehead.
Moving the box over to the night stand, as well as the necklace, he pulls the small child into his arms.
"How about we take a nap? You must be tired after adventuring."
A yawn escaped _____'s mouth as she cuddled up to the Arthur, nodding.
Smiling, he gently laid down, not bothering with getting under the blankets as both he and he daughter fell asleep.
