Character Name Guide:

Elizaveta=Hungary

Lili=Liechtenstein

Vash=Switzerland

Disclaimer: I only own the story, not Hetalia.

The world has nothing for me.

What a lovely opening line to my journal. And I thought I'd promised myself that this wouldn't be depressing.

Well, at the very least, it was dramatic. There are very few instances of drama in my life, and whatever drama does exist is contrived by my imagination or else completely stupid. Honestly, what can you expect from someone who's lived in the confines of a walled garden for the entirety of their life? I need something to pique my interest, for once. I'm sure you understand.

What if I said I was a chivalrous knight, off to conquer new lands, discover lost treasures, fight dragons, win wars? Would you believe me? No... Even I can't imagine myself doing that. For one, I'm a girl, and girls are just items for knights to wear on their wrists. For another, chivalry is one of the few words that can't apply to me. Sarcastic, yes. Cynical, maybe. Chivalrous is a definite no-no. I've never been a hero. If my father has his way with me, I'll never have the chance to be one, either.

Besides, knights are too lucky. They can choose where they go, what they do...and who they fall in love with. I've had issues with all of those. That last one, though. That's the clincher.

Maybe someday, I'll publish this as a novel. Pretend that this wasn't my life, that this was all something I wrote for the pleasure of myself and others. Under a pseudonym, of course. Future queens should be nothing more than pretty faces, superficially perfect, like their nation should be, and of course, I would never be allowed to claim credit. I'm fine with that. At the very least, it would mean that I have done something. Something other than tend the garden, read my books, and wish for a friend.

Don't take this the wrong way. There is nothing romantic or mysterious about me or this life. My so-called plight is not a fairy tale. I am not a damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued from this place... And honestly, my solitude isn't glamorous. To have the world around you be so empty that you can feel the blood pulsing through your ears...it's not so easy as it seems on the paper.

Or maybe I'm just being a huge wuss. How would you know? How would I know? All I know about the real world comes from the books I read and reread almost religiously. Judging by the fact that you're still reading, I suppose you're like that, too.

I bet you pulled up short at that. Sorry. But again, sarcasm is one of my few assets as to entertainment. What can you expect? The only places I have ever seen with my own eyes are my cottage (tended and cleaned by unseen servants), my library of sorts, and my garden. And, of course, the stone walls that surround me on every side, making me feel like I'm living in a well. It makes me wonder if everything I do is preordained, if I'll never be able to make my own decisions in anything. Is that really how the world is supposed to work? Or is it just my curse talking?

Wow. I've told you all that, spouted philosophical crap like a wise man, and you still don't even know my name. It's Elizaveta Héderváry, just so you know. If you're from this kingdom, you'll recognize that as the name of your princess. Not that that information will do you any good. You can't exactly hold me up for ransom-I'm locked up, and I doubt you'll ever find me.

Wait, I hear...footsteps? Am I actually getting a visitor-and is it actually someone other than the silent servants who visit me daily or the gardener's assistant, come to bring me fresh seeds?

Well. It's about time.

Elizaveta was sixteen when she first met her father.

Of course, she already knew who he was, and what he looked like. She'd lived with his portrait bolted into place, staring her down from the bedroom wall for her entire life, and his ceremonial clothing demonstrated his societal stature. But it wasn't just what he wore-it was the cold, powerful gleam in his storm-gray eyes that the artist had captured perfectly-that showed her that he was, undeniably, a king, and a practically omnipotent one, at that.

Now, staring back into the recesses of those eyes on the wall, she sighed, tugging at the end of her light brown hair, now loose around her shoulders. It was uncomfortable, always being watched so closely by someone she barely knew. And eerie, in a way. Like he was the one pulling all the strings in her life.

The king is watching, she thought. Watching my every move.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the tall, three-way mirror that had been a new addition to her cottage's small bedroom. It stuck out like a bloody sore on unblemished skin in her modest, unadorned abode, too flashy and bright to exist in such a simple place. Wearing a dress for the first time she could remember, Elizaveta felt like that, too. Gaudy, misplaced. Not quite right.

"Princess, you look lovely," the little blonde maid standing shyly beside her commented. "I'm sure that many princes will like you when they meet you today." She bowed her head with a small smile, and her blue hair ribbon shifted forward. Elizaveta smiled uncomfortably back at the girl, who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. She knew that Lili was genuinely impressed; in the short time that they'd known each other, her little maid friend had never told any obvious lies. Still, it didn't feel right, to be wearing something like this.

She surveyed herself in the mirror, feeling a bit exposed. Her eyes gleamed a pleasing green color, her physical appearance's only good aspect, in her opinion. Apart from that, all she saw were calloused, working hands (to be concealed under prim white gloves, she was sure) and a plain, average face. There was nothing to her that a prince would particularly like, thank goodness. But, then again, this wasn't about whether the princes actually liked her-it was about how much a marriage could offer his country. And, from what she'd heard so far, her country's prospects seemed pretty good.

It's all about forging the right alliances. That's what her father had said in an undertone to his aides. He hadn't really tried to mask it, either. After all, she was just another bargaining chip for him, another pawn on the chessboard. And she really had no way to go against it.

Awkwardly sitting back down at her dressing-room table-also an unwelcome new addition to her home-she reached for the hairbrush, only to have Lili pick it up instead and start doing her hair. Elizaveta started, about to tell her she would do it herself, then acquiesced as Lili began brushing through the long, tangled drape. "How many people do you think are there?" Elizaveta asked, fidgeting nervously. She'd never met many other people; the only others she'd been exposed to were her tutor, some servants, her father-and Lili, of course. She refused to lump Lili in with the rest of the servants.

Lili smiled guilelessly, her round blue eyes sparkling. "I am sure at least four hundred guests have arrived to see you for the first time in public, and at least forty of them are princes. You have been gone for 16 years, and everyone is curious. But I'm sure that they are all friendly, and just want to meet you for the first time."

Elizaveta frowned. If only their intentions really were as innocent as Lili made them out to be. "I thought this...cotillion was supposed to be one of those 'marry-her-off' affairs, in which the prince representing the nation with the most assets proposes and the king accepts for me."

In the mirror, she noticed Lili wince a little at her choice of words. She was now pinning her hair up against the side of Elizaveta's head. "Oh, oh, it's not like that!" she stammered earnestly, looking slightly alarmed. "No, this is just to introduce you and your…" she hesitated, searching for the right word, "blessing to the people before the competition-Oh!" She broke off in the middle of her sentence. Startled, Elizaveta tried to turn, only to meet small hands, pushing her face back around.

"What competition?" Elizaveta demanded. But Lili just frowned and shook her head.

"Please forget that I said anything," she whispered. "You weren't supposed to know about that until the cotillion… And technically I'm not supposed to know either, but my brother Vash, he's one of your father's aides, told me about it and he wanted me to keep it a secret…" Her voice trailed off nervously under the suspicious look Elizaveta was giving her.

Elizaveta stared at her for a moment longer, watching the younger girl determinedly avoid her gaze, then sighed and moved on. She knew Lili wasn't about to say anymore: her loyalty to her brother ran too deep. As Lili finished winding an intricate braid around the side of her head and secured it with an ornamental pin, she remained silent, brooding. She was sure she had some idea as to what Lili meant, but it was too vague to put her finger on exactly.

"There, you're all done!" Lili said, a little too brightly. Elizaveta stood, not bothering to look in the mirror, and walked towards the door, internally cursing the person who invented high heeled shoes. She was having enough trouble already not tripping over her dress. Add all that to the fact that she'd never been to a single public event… Well, it didn't make for a very appealing picture.

She turned around, feeling the light green fabric swish around her heels. "Are you coming, Lili?"

Her little friend blushed a little. "Um, I'm only allowed to come as far as the ballroom doors… But don't worry, don't worry, your father will be escorting you in! He'll make sure you don't trip..." she added hastily with a little giggle, seeing the flicker of doubt cross her mistress' face.

Elizaveta sighed. Thank goodness Lili had misread the look on her face. In fact, her father was the most worrisome part of this whole business.

She took Lili's smaller hand in hers and they entered the main part of the castle. They said nothing on the journey through the brightly-lit, empty hallways, simply listening to the sounds of music and chatter waft through the air. The ball was about to start; the guests were all just waiting for the entrance of the princes and...her.

As they neared the main ballroom (hopefully it was large enough to fit all four hundred or so of her father's invited guests that Lili had described), the voice of the royal herald began to announce the names of princes, followed by the name of her country. They were close enough to hear the crowd's reaction to each name, and Elizaveta began to sort the names into groups: a loud cheer meant many supporters from that country were there, and perhaps was an indicator of whom her father favored as her match.

A sick feeling began to rise in her stomach. Whomever her father chose would never be a good idea. But she wouldn't be able to protest, especially not after they'd touched their lips to hers. After anyone did that...well, there would be no escape.

Elizaveta stationed herself in front of the gilded golden doors of the ballroom's west entrance, and Lili squeezed her hand one last time before slipping away into the shadows the way all servants were expected to master. A moment later, her father appeared, trailing a gaudy ermine cloak behind him. He looked her up and nodded, satisfied with her new appearance. Even though the cheers were still quite deafening, she could hear his terse whisper: "It's good enough."

The hubbub died down after a few moments, and the only sound that could be heard was the voice of the herald: "And now, I am honored to present his Majesty the King and his daughter, the princess!"

And the doors began to open.

This is my first fanfiction ever, and it's going to be part of a pretty long story. Since I have a lot of time over the summer, I thought I might as well. Please review (so I know whether this is crap or not and whether I should keep updating) and thank you for reading! :)