America stared out the window late at night, bored out of his mind. Visiting Arthur wasn't nearly as fun as he had hoped it'd be. England was such a stingy bastard, the young nation thought with a pout. Anything fun was practically banned from his house.

He had an awesome garden though, even if it was totally girly. All roses and shit. It was filled with fireflies, and with the moon overhead it actually looked kinda magical. Maybe that was why he had created a garden like that, so he could play with his imaginary friends. The thought made Alfred giggle.

Suddenly he saw Arthur step into the huge circle of rosebushes, and Alfred perked up, hoping to see him make a fool of himself. He looked… different, though. He was still wearing his slacks and sweater vest, but with the light and the surroundings he looked almost… handsome. Alfred shook his head. Pffft, yeah right. His eyes were playing tricks on him.

"I felt your presence earlier." the older nation suddenly said to thin air. Alright. It was official, England was insane.

"Of course." another voice answered and startled Alfred so baldy he nearly fell of the lounge chair he was sitting in. He looked around frantically and finally spotted the woman, crouching by one of the rosebushes and brushing a finger against a flower.

She turned around and smiled at Arthur and holy crap, she was beautiful. The red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a fiery waterfall, pearls and gemstones studded through a net placed on her head. Her dress was heavy and outdated by, like, centuries, but looked completely new. She stood and faced the Englishman, brushing nonexistent dirt from the folds of her dress.

"I am not surprised you came." she said, but her lips didn't move. At all. Alfred nearly freaked out. That couldn't happen! Really not happen!

"Of course I would come." Arthur murmured and stepped closer to the strange woman. She held up a hand to stop him, still smiling softly but with a sad tinge now. Arthur looked hurt and bewildered but obeyed so instantly it almost looked like a reflex. "Why do you stop me?" he asked, voice low and gentle.

The woman sighed visibly, drawing attention to her heaving bosom (and what a fine bosom it was!) "You live in the past my Arthur, my country, my beloved Empire." she said, again without moving her lips. She must be one of those ventriloquists, America thought and calmed down slightly. "You mustn't do that. You cannot. Your people–"

"I don't care!" Arthur interrupted, face filled with so much agony that Alfred had to look away. The woman's eyes were sad and she looked only a step away from bursting into tears. "England…" The tone was mournful but determined. England took another step forward.

"Elisabeth, please." And suddenly it all clicked into place. The Queen who heralded in England's golden era and never married. The Queen who declared herself married to England before all her court and who was many centuries dead. There was an actual ghost just outside the window. If he hadn't been frozen with terror, America would've run away screaming to hide under his bed.

She walked up to the nation and placed her delicate hands on his grieving face.

"I loved you in life, England. Loved you so much that even the thought of marrying another man repulsed and disgusted me. It pains me when you are pained, but beloved Arthur, I am dead."

Arthur placed both his hands over hers, still looking as if he'd just lost everything he'd ever loved. He blinked bright green eyes and silent tears ran down and over their joined hands. Elisabeth wiped one away tenderly.

"I love you in death too. You, as England, and you, as Arthur. So I urge you, as Arthur, to forget me, for England. Your people need you and you have mourned me for 400 years. It is time to move on. For their sake, if not your own."

Arthur fell to his knees before the Queen, hugging her around the waist desperately and sobbing helplessly. Elisabeth hugged him back and cradled his head in her arms, crying silently with him.

Alfred felt like the worst sort of jerk ever as he looked in on this private, vulnerable moment between England and his (gulp!) former Queen.

"Please Elisabeth." Arthur whispered after what felt like hours, voice hoarse from crying. "Don't leave."

"I must." she whispered back. "For your own sake."

She tilted his face up to meet hers and kissed him slowly. "Be happy, my Arthur." she murmured during it, and drew back. She stroked his hair form his face and kissed him again. "Be prosperous, my England."

Then she let him go and wandered over to a rosebush. She threw him a final, sad smile over her shoulder and disappeared.

Arthur sat where she left him for several long moments, and Alfred started to get worried about him.

Then, Arthur doubled over and screamed into the dirt, a sound so agonized and heartbroken that Alfred actually recoiled. His heart bled for his former caretaker and for once he read the atmosphere and left England alone. He cast one final look through the window at the broken man trembling amongst fireflies and roses before he snuck back into his room and tried to sleep.

And if Arthur's eyes were a bit red and puffy the next morning, and if his smile was a bit strained, then Alfred was considerate enough not to notice.