France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Thirty-Five- Epilogue

Charlotte (France)

Year 2089

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"Bonjour, Papa"

I stand in front of the gravestone, and kneel down, setting a bouquet of roses in front. Everyone sends a bouquet for Papa and England on their birthdays. It costed a lot, but I got them conjoined graves. It makes me happy, seeing their names together- knowing they're still together, up in the sky. 

I stand back up, and fix my shirt. "Uhm.. The bakery is going good."

The wind blows ferociously, throwing my hair into my face. I groan, and swipe it away. 

"Sales are booming once more. Like they did three decades ago. It's nice. O-Oh uhm-!", I quickly point my hand towards the stone, showing off the diamond ring on my finger. "I'm engaged!"

I take a moment to squeal, before continuing. "It's Canada. You liked him. He's good for me, he's... He's better. We're getting married in August."

I look around, and sigh. "The house is empty without you", I say, sitting down in front of his tomb. "I mean, Canada moved in, sure, and we got a dog- I named him Fran. But.. y'know, It's just not the same."

"I know what you mean."

I turn around, half-expecting to see Papa there. Instead, America meets my gaze, and throws himself down next to me, crossing his legs. 

"What's up, England."

I avert my gaze from his, and focus only on the stone and the flowers in front of us. He clears his throat, and continues. 

"Peter's doing a real good job managing your land. He even managed to get taxes cut in half without ruining the economy. The people are happy... He's doing good."

I inhale sharply, and fold my hands in my lap. "He's still stubborn and childish, though", I add.

"Duh", he laughs a bit, looking down, the smile quickly fading. "France, dude, your girl is awesome at this."

I smile weakly, and take his hand in mine. He just smiles back at me, and pulls me close. "She works non-stop, but somehow leaves time to hang out with us. France is lookin' good because of her. Way better than it ever did when you were in charge", he teases, and I chuckle. 

We stay silent for a moment, enjoying each other's company, before I look at him with tear filled eyes. "I miss him", I whimper, digging my face in his shoulder. 

He pats my back, and sighs shakily. "I know how you feel."

I remember his funeral as if it were just yesterday. He died right in front of me, the day after Arthur had passed. I didn't want to believe it- it was worse than coming to terms with the existence of countries. I had to be told over ten times that he was gone. Even when I returned home, I called out for him, only for Matthew to hold me and tell me he wasn't there. I've never felt pain like that. 

Still, I tried to look on the bright side. He was finally with Arthur. I think if he had lived another day without him, he'd be horribly depressed. The timing allowed us to set up a shared grave. The funeral was open casket, and almost every French and British citizen attended. They shared their condolences, which only added insult to the pain. They didn't know them like we did. They aren't countries, they didn't spend their lives with them. Still, I forced myself to calm down. They lost their former country. Papa and England were important to everyone. 

I worked ten times harder since his death. I make sure everyone in France is accounted for, heard, fed, housed- the unemployment rate has dropped tremendously, and homeless shelters are closing due to nobody needing them anymore. Every day, I have citizens show up on my doorstep, and I hear them out. I don't have guards like Papa did. Everyone is welcome to show up and talk to me. It's made me very popular with the citizens. 

Mattieu co-runs Charlie's Cafe with me. He knows how to make coffee, and after we bought a new machine, he refuses to let me touch it. I understand, though. The thing was far more expensive than I would have liked. Still, my cafe has become a popular Paris tourist attraction due to it's popularity and documented 'amazing treats and coffee'. I'm proud of it. 

I went to Bryce's funeral about thirty years ago. an O.D. Only his brother and a few street friends showed up. I'm not sure where the rest of his family was- or if they even knew he had died. I still visit his grave on his birthday, and give him a bouquet. I don't hate him. He helped me learn who I was- he helped me grow. I'm thankful for having him in my life. He doesn't deserve to be forgotten. 

I had a good childhood because of Papa. I love him, more than I'll ever love anything. He wasn't perfect, but he was home. I didn't end up searching for my real parents. There was no need to. 

I have my family right here. 

"Goodbye, Papa", I whisper, shakily standing to my feet, America's arm wrapped tightly around me.  

"Sleep tight."

All I can remember now is how much he loved Paris in the Summer.