Promises Hurt 【An Hetalia fanfic】

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Little Pink Flowers

Alfred couldn't remember what happened after he stormed out on Natalya, heck, he didn't even know if he was awake or unconscious. The same feeling of the cool breeze rustled through the tall tree above him, rustling the endless meadow of grass and green leaves. He felt bad for yelling at her, but if he told her about all the guilt he's been holding in would she understand? 

Something about this place seemed wrong the more he stayed there. Alfred didn't know how long the noon sun would stay put, it hadn't moved since he arrived. He tried to leave the little hill he awoke to but failed. A barrier stood at the base around the hill, no matter how hard he pounded on the wall or jumped from the top of the tree, it would not falter.  

"This forking sucks, man!" He groaned and fell back on the soft ground. He didn't even feel pain here. Every time he fell or face-planted into the grass, there were no aches or scrapes or bruises. It's like he was a rubber ball, bouncing off the ground unharmed. "Can't do anything here!" 

His voice traveled far, even echoed back to him at one point making him feel crazy, well, crazier than he already was.  Alfred called out many a time for anyone, even the smallest companion of an ant or fly, but nothing. Just him, the grass, breeze, and the tree.  He trudged up to the tree for the millionth time, "I feel like there something to do with the tree, my anime senses are telling me that. But there's nothing--"

There at the base of the tree was a small boulder, not any much taller than his knee, but still big. A name was etched into the flat surface that faced the sun. Beatrice Flower Jones, it read in the same font and size as the tombstone Alfred placed for her. Little flowers like the ones on the outside of the barrier bloomed around the stone and decorated it the same way she would have. 

He stopped at frowned at the stone. As much as he hated being stuck here, he rather not have the reminder slap him in the face the longer he stayed there. But sighing and sitting down against the tree next to the stone, he spoke, "Hey flower bud, still making the flowers bloom?"

A small pink flower popped up next to his hand, a little answer that said yes. "Glad to hear that."

"Your brothers and sisters miss you," Alfred placed his hand on the stone, eyes closed, imagining that he's holding her warm little hand again. "I miss you."

"Allice still goes to the beach we found you in on your birthday, with a cake and a gift we made for you. Do you get those where you are? I hope so, we put in so much effort to make it perfect for you." He chuckles at the memory of the chaos that happened fifty years ago where they couldn't find the gift. 

"I wish you were here, Beatrice," Alfred opens his eyes and looks through the leaves at the immobile sun. "It's hard without my little girl, the flowers aren't as bright as when you were here."

"But daddy, I'm right here." Next to Alfred sat a little girl about the age of eight. Her hair was pinned back into a half updo and a soft pink ribbon tied in a bow. The same shade of pink was her waistcoat top and skirt. Nothing like royalty clothes, the simple cotton cloth and lace-edge smock on top of her white cotton tights.  "See?"

Although she looked the same, the light brown eyes and honey golden hair, she wasn't entirely there. She looked a little transparent. The tree roots behind her were somewhat difficult to see, but if he focused, there were there. "I'm right here."

"I know you're right there, but I can't hug you," Alfred's face cast a solemn frown as his hand, that once was on the stone, passed through her hand, unable to grasp anything.  "I'm sorry you're like this. It's my fault you can't see Allice or Eric or Nicholas."