Miscellaneous Hetalia One-Shots

The Milkmaid - England x Reader

A/N: Art is not mine.

The sun was high in the bright blue afternoon sky, but don't let that deceive you. It was very much a cold day: a day where mothers held their children close for warmth, a day where young men in bustling cities held their cloaks close to them, a day where people all across the British Isles would bundle up in whatever blankets they had lying around. How could the sun be so high and bright, but the temperature so low, especially in a place constantly crowded with rain clouds? Even more strange, it wasn't yet winter; leaves were still falling off the trees, and animals could still be seen gathering food. It was late fall, November to be exact. And amongst all of this, you were...

...you were milking a cow.

Such is the fate of a poor woman such as yourself. Born the oldest girl of a poor family, you took whatever job you were offered. Perhaps you had dreams of being an author, an artist, a musician, or a legendary war general. But, here you were, outside on this chilly day, milking a cow.

Your position wasn't... the worst. You had been fortunate enough to be employed by a very wealthy man; a lord by the name of Lord Arthur Kirkland. He had vast tracts of land, stretching across many acres of rolling hills. His manor was rather large as well, holding a dining hall fit for the King, a drawing room with many wonderful artworks, even an elegant ballroom that could make anyone want to dance.

You had never seen any of these places. You heard of them among the servants, but you, working in the stables and occasionally making butter or cream, did not see those rooms. You stayed in the kitchens and servant's quarters and stables. You were working for a wealthy man, sure, but that did not mean you had any special privileges as a milkmaid.

You hardly even knew the Lord himself. You'd heard he was a man full of pride and greed, but also full of generosity towards those he cared for. You'd heard he was prone to outbursts, yelling at anyone who came near, but also that he was gentle and loving. You'd heard he was a man constantly busying himself with work, getting lost in his studies late into the night, but also a man who longed for adventure. Who took the time to notice natural, outdoor beauty and breathe in the fresh air.

Whoever he was, whatever he did and whatever he longed for... he made you curious. Gossip and stories can warp even simple concepts, but what kind of a man could he be to stir up so many contradicting tales of his temperament?

You picked up the bucket of warm milk, setting it with the others, and leading Florence back into her pen. Shutting the pen closed, you picked up the milk buckets from today and brought them into Michelle's room in the kitchen. She waved to you, her delicate mocha hands drying off the tools needed to make the butter for today.

You smiled back at her, bringing in the two other buckets of milk from outside. You sighed, leaning against the counter for a moment or two before turning back to your friend, "Would you like some help?"

"Later, perhaps," the young girl replied, "but I think you should go rest for a bit. Get outside for an hour or so, while I churn the butter? You've been working hard these past few days."

"Oh, but, what would Madam Elizabeta say to me if she knew...?"

"Don't worry about that," Michelle's feminine voice answered, "it's only an hour. She'll never know. And, if she asks, I'll cover for you."

You bit your lip, looking to the window. The blue sky incited you out, the evergreen trees blowing reminding you of the calming wind right outside. You were never one to mind cold weather; after all, you had to work outside all the time. Warm weather was nice, but it got old quickly.

"If you're certain," you said, looking at her again for confirmation.

Michelle smiled again in response, her face brightening like it always did when she smiled, "I am. I'll call you back in when I need you, yes?"

"You're the best," you breathed, smiling back before dashing out.

The outside world truly was your calling. There was no feeling quite like sunlight on your skin on a chilly day. There was no feeling quite like the touch of the cool grass between your fingers. There was no feeling quite like the wind blowing through your hair and making your cheeks rosy from the cold.

You smoothed out your skirt as you sat in the grass, admiring the beauty around you. The farmland stretched out to the horizon, the soft colors of green and yellow and even amber mixing with the light of the sun. The evergreen trees lined the sides of the manor and continued down the hill, growing wherever they pleased. There were other trees, too, but by this time of year, many of them had already lost their leaves.

The crunches of plants next to you barely even registered in your mind. It was only when you saw someone's boot lying on the grass next to you that you glanced over.

That "someone" was a young man, quite a dashing one at that. His soft blond hair matched the color of the grain in the distance, and his curious green eyes matched the shade of the tree's leaves in summer. His skin was pale and smooth, and his face looked so young yet so wise.

You felt your face heat up when he looked over to you, your eyes locking. His face looked almost surprised, though you weren't sure why. Perhaps this was a higher-up here to tell you to get back to work.

"Hello," he spoke, his voice silky and calming. He was certainly from wealthy origins; if his clothes didn't give it away.

"Hi," you said back, internally smacking yourself for sounding so stupid.

He looked back out towards the distant farmland, his eyes swirling with happiness and comfort. The white cloth tied around his shirt collar blew slightly in the wind, along with his wheat-colored hair. It made him look like a prince from a fairytale.

You decided it was rude to stare, and looked back out towards the hills yourself. You couldn't really hide your flushed cheeks, but perhaps he would think it was just from the cold?

After a good bit of silence, he spoke, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

You were caught a bit off guard by that but answered anyway, "Yes."

He let out a deep breath and smiled, making eye contact with you again, "It's on days like these that I wish I was but a lowly servant, working in the fields. How nice it would be to feel this way every day."

That was you. You were a lowly servant, making do with what you had and enjoying the simpler things in life that many nobles took for granted.

"It is quite nice."

The man then stood up, and your eyes naturally followed his figure. He made eye contact with you again, holding one of his gentle hands down to you.

"Come with me, milkmaid. How would you like to see the gardens?"