Disclaimer: The Hetalia characters and their personifications belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. 日丸屋 秀和
What Not to do if You are a Knight by Gilbert Beilschmidt:
38.) Do not take a girl's blanket.
Bedtime Stories
Later that same night...
The princess and her servant had long since gone to sleep, but the door to their room remained slightly ajar.
The rising humidity (another lovely result of the unprecedented amount of rainfall they had received over the past few weeks) caused the atmosphere within the old fortress to be even more thick, damp, and choking than it already was; the women insisted that the door remain propped open so a breeze could ventilate the stuffy room.
But as it was still early spring, the temperature dropped significantly after the sun set. Elizaveta had lain awake the past few nights in the damp, chilly room. She allowed Lovina to have both blankets. Again, a little chill was nothing she couldn't handle, and she wanted to keep herself awake anyway. Awake and alert.
She busied herself by attempting to watch the millions of invisible water droplets in the air turn to frost in the night. Then, she would await their transformation once more into a thin layer of dew upon the stony floors and windowsills the next morning. The nearly undetectable process was, in a strange way, captivating. It was something she couldn't directly see, yet it fascinated her to observe. It was subtle and mysterious like the changing phases of the moon. It had always been things like that - simple, beautiful, magical things - that Elizaveta loved to study. It helped her develop patience and concentration; it deepened her curiosity.
How such an insignificant process of nature could help her escape reality so completely amazed her. Even sleep couldn't do that; in sleep she was haunted by nightmares and regrets. She liked to distract herself by focusing and learning about... anything, really. It brought her peace.
Gilbert had just relieved Antonio of his duty standing guard outside the girls' room. As the Spaniard nodded silently and walked away to his own chambers to get some shut-eye, Gilbert slyly peered inside the dark space and saw the two figures illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from the window.
Both lay on the floor, on their sides, turned away from him.
Lovina's breathing was steady and deep, indicative of sleep. Gilbert noticed a thick wool blanket draped over her shoulders.
The soldierly eyes then trailed over to the adjacent female figure.
He immediately rolled his eyes at the sight of her.
For there, dutiful servant as she was, lay Elizaveta, shuddering slightly with no blanket as the wind sent icy chills over her body.
Gilbert softly entered the room and approached the girls. Sure enough, he noted, Lovina had two blankets atop her (one undoubtedly placed there by her servant during the night).
Elizaveta was awake. However, unlike normal, she had her face turned away from the room's entrance. She heard footsteps approaching from further down the hall. Then she heard footsteps leave.
She concluded that the men had switched shifts, but she did not know who was watching them now.
Even though she knew Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio, it still made her uncomfortable being watched in her sleep. Especially when she didn't know who, specifically, was doing the watching. So she laid still and silent, pretending to be lost in the world of dreams. She could not, however, suppress a sudden shiver that passed through her body. Damn, it really was cold tonight.
At that moment, she heard soft, discrete footsteps enter the room and her breath caught. She dared not move, but clutched her old dagger closer to her chest.
It was silly, she knew; whoever was watching them was one of her friends (well... one of her old friends) and still she felt the need to ready a weapon? Looking down at the blade, she realized that she wanted to trust these men... but she didn't know if she could anymore... . Her eyes shut tighter. She felt a hollowness inside her heart which hadn't arisen in a very long time.
Then, broken from her dismal thoughts, she felt a cloth being gently draped over her body, blocking the chilly air. The large, gloved hands released the fabric and she sensed the figure hovering over her a moment longer before retreating back out the door.
An annoyed frown came immediately to her face.
She knew then that it was Gilbert. She knew he had waltzed in and ripped one of Lovina's blankets off and placed it back on herself instead.
And this gesture, whether it was out of kindness or simple courtesy, enraged Elizaveta.
You know that point where no matter what a person does, it seems to just piss you off? Elizaveta was at that point.
How dare he? How dare he correct Elizaveta's generosity? God, she was so sick of him 'fixing' her actions as if she didn't know how to care for herself properly. She wasn't lost, she wasn't confused, and he didn't control her!
Deep down she knew that perhaps she was reading too far into this, but for the entire duration of their imprisonment, Gilbert had been treating her like she was... well, dull. In both mind and spirit. But he couldn't tell her who to care about or how to care for them.
She had given up her blanket not because she was a servant, but because Lovina was her friend and she happened to care about her well-being.
Disrespectful bastard. Couldn't he see that she wanted the blanket over Lovina? That's. why. she. placed. it. there.
Elizaveta sat up angrily. She was fuming, ready to throw the wool covering back atop her mistress and give Gilbert a piece of her mind, but she stopped short in her actions.
The two blankets were still secure around Lovina; Gilbert had not touched them.
Wrapped securely around her, however, was his own black and white cloak.
Surprised, robbed of her built-up indignation and fury, she looked down somewhat guiltily and clutched the fabric.
She did not say a word. She was not sure if Gilbert had seen her bolt up, but she slowly sank back down and pulled the cloth up higher over her shoulders.
After a few moments of pondering what to do next, she settled on studying the cloak instead of the dewdrops.
His cloak was warm and rough. It had a few holes in it, which made her smile (she had taught Gilbert how to mend his own clothes when they were children, but she usually ended up having to do it for him - he always was too impatient to stitch straight). It was stained and worn with years of use, but, admittedly, it remained in relatively good condition. No doubt he still took pride in his uniform. She wondered what his thoughts were on the Order now. Was he still proud of it? What had prompted him to leave? What had he done over the past five years? Did she even want to know?
The cloth was not soft, but it was insulating. She felt herself grinning sadly, because it reminded her so much of... him. She ran her fingers across the stitching. It was imperfect and torn, but it carried the scent of safety and home.
A sad expression crossed her features then, and a feeling - a yearning, wanting feeling to be close to him - overtook her.
...
She missed him.
Damn it all, she missed him; and she hated admitting it to herself. They were enemies now. He was threatening to kill her best friend. He was a ruthless, traitorous, morally-deprived assassin. And yet, somehow, he had this effect on her...
No.
She couldn't let herself feel that way anymore...
because last time he nearly died due to her actions. If she truly cared for Gilbert, she would have to pretend that she couldn't care less about him.
Yes. She was set on it.
.
.
.
...Starting tomorrow. Right now, she sat up again and turned towards the door.
No one was there.
She wondered just how long she had been lying there in contemplation.
Elizaveta rose, tip-toed over to the doorway, and hesitantly poked her head outside the room.
"I'm going there now, you can take my place on the wall," she heard a French accent echo down the hall.
Elizaveta, with the cloak still draped around her, slipped out of the room as the Frenchman approached. She padded, unseen, in the opposite direction down the dark hallway.
The mossy-eyed girl made her way softly out into the pale moonlight. She entered the inner bailey of the fortress and looked up toward the high tower - the bergfried. A dark figure blocked the light of the moon as it stood keeping watch.
It did not take long for Elizaveta to ascend the staircase of the tower.
She thought she was being quiet, she really did, but once she was at the top and approached the obscure figure, it voiced itself:
"Can never stay put for long, can you?" Gilbert did not turn around when he spoke to her. He remained vigilant, staring ahead, sitting on the very edge of the wall which overlooked the forest. His voice was unsettlingly calm, but at the same time, Elizaveta could sense a placid smile on Gilbert's face. She gripped the cloak tighter around her shoulders and worked up the courage to move closer to him. "You know, Liz, snooping around at night can get you in trouble."
"Only if you get caught," she corrected quickly, "...and you'll keep my secret, won't you?" Gilbert's stifled laugh urged her to draw closer yet. Now she sat down next to him, allowing her feet to dangle over the edge of the wall. Even the tallest treetops seemed far below them. "I just wanted to give this back to you... thanks." She handed him back the cloak.
He took it, paused, as if contemplating something, and then draped it over the both of them.
She was surprised by the action, but did not protest it.
She held the cloth over her shoulder with her right arm. The same, unfamiliar urge washed over her once more, and she inched closer to Gilbert.
With a movement that made her heart flutter slightly, he grabbed her left hand and held it.
There was silence as they gazed over the darkened treetops. The no stars shone but the moon was bright. The breeze was bitter, but she was far from cold.
Then, as if the exhaustion of the past several sleepless nights was just now beginning to take affect, she leaned her head against Gilbert's firm shoulder.
"You have to go back to your room, you know," his voice was low and soft. "If the holy terror wakes up and sees you're gone, she'll flip."
"Tell me a story," she said suddenly.
"What?" he turned his head to look down at her.
She was trying to buy herself some time. She wanted time to figure out these feelings of both contempt and contentment. She wanted to clear the blurry lines between what she wanted and what she knew she had to do. More than anything, she simply craved a few more minutes of sitting under the moon while Gilbert kept her warm. "A story. When we were kids, you always used to tell the best fairytales. Will you tell me one again?"
He heaved a long sigh, releasing her hand. For a moment, she missed the contact, but he readjusted his arm behind her and pulled her close in a half-hug. "Uhhhh, let's see..." He looked up towards the sky and she noticed how his dark eyes gleamed. She had missed that about him too. Why was she just realizing this all now? "Mmmm," he closed his eyes. "Oh, I've got one. Now how does it go again? Once upon a time... there was..." he drifted off in contemplation.
"A knight. A dragon. A king," Elizaveta provided.
His eyes drifted down toward her and rested there with an expression she could not quite read. "A humble farmer."
"Oh," she responded in a tone that almost reflected disappointment. Gilbert again smiled.
"Yyyup. A poor, down-on-his-luck, bottom-of-the-rung peasant farmer. And he had four sons." Elizaveta settled comfortably, listening to the tale. She felt Gilbert's voice rumble through his shoulder where her head rested. At that moment, she felt warm and safe and calm and... right. Just right. She wanted him to hold her tight and never let go; but at the same time these feelings bubbled up inside her, she tried desperately to force them down again.
"Now," Gilbert continued, "having had a particularly crappy harvest season, the poor farmer went to his sons and said, 'Yo! Lazy, un-awesome sons of mine! Go make yourselves useful and learn a trade! Come on, make me some money!'" She smiled unwillingly at his overly-eccentric farmer voice. "So they did. The four sons were booted out and vowed to return to their father once they had become AWESOME at something.
"The oldest son met first with a team of bandits and became an expert thief! The second son was super smart and became a mathematician. The third son became a huntsman, and the fourth, a tailor.
"When they returned a year later, their father wanted to see just how 'expert' they had proven themselves. As a test, the farmer pointed to a bird's nest high up in a tree. He said, 'Here's a perfectly ridiculous, pointless task: count how many eggs are in that bird's nest... if you can!'
"The mathematician was the first son to step up. Not wanting to evoke the mother-bird's wrath, he carefully measured the nest without disturbing the birds and calculated just how many eggs were inside. He determined there were exactly five. The next son, the expert thief, crept up the tree and snatched all five eggs without the mother bird even noticing! The huntsman shot a single arrow and pierced all five eggs at once. Finally, the tailor used his thread to flawlessly sew up the shattered eggshells and the baby chicks inside. When he was finished, the thief quietly returned the eggs back to the nest without the mother bird even batting a feather. And all five eggs later hatched, unharmed, with just a thin line of red thread across the newborn chicks' necks. Obvious to say, their father was pretty impressed with the four sons' progress."
Gilbert then looked down over the edge of the fortress wall towards the ground far below. "But then, it was not long after the sons returned home that they heard some tragic news. Apparently, the princess of their kingdom done went and got herself kidnapped by a dragon!" he said, "So, because the sons were just awesome, good-hearted dudes, they went together to the king and said that they would rescue his daughter from the evil dragon. The king practically laughed at them because, well, come on; what could a thief, a mathematician, a huntsman, and a tailor possibly do to stop a huge-ass dragon? Nevertheless, he agreed to let them try."
Elizaveta nodded and waited for him to continue. Unconsciously, her arms slid around his waist and she hugged him, staring forward with wide eyes, completely engulfed in the story. "So the brothers set out. The mathematician cleverly built a contraption that could see far distances to find where the dragon had taken the princess and used the stars to track where they were going. They had to hop on a boat and cross a large ocean to reach her. When they did, the huntsman wanted to shoot the dragon, but was afraid of striking the princess if the beast moved. So the thief quickly swiped the princess out of the dragon's clutches and got her back to their boat safely.
"Just as they were starting to head back to the kingdom, the dragon realized his princess had been stolen and grew very angry when he saw the boat. He roared so loud that mountains crumbled and he lifted in flight after the vessel. With one swipe of his giant claws, the dragon slashed their boat to pieces. It was completely destroyed, and all four brothers and the princess were thrown violently into the ocean."
Elizaveta squeezed him. " ...Well? Did they swim to safety...?"
"No," Gilbert smiled, reveling in the fact that he knew the ending of the tale while she could only wait and guess. "The huntsman grabbed his bow and arrow at the last second and shot the dragon straight through its heart. The beast, finally fell dead. However, now they were stranded in the middle of the ocean, and they thought for sure they were gonners. But, the last brother took his needle and thread and sewed the whole boat and its sails back together like new. The winds carried them quickly back to the kingdom and they returned the princess safely to her father.
"In return for their help, the king divided his kingdom into four parts and gave each of the brothers a piece. They became rich and gave their money to their poor father. And lived happily ever after."
When he finished, Elizaveta was quiet. A half-smile formed on her lips. "The four of them... kind of remind me of us when we were kids. Each a little different, but all brave."
"Yeah," Gilbert breathed a quiet laugh, "that's why it's one of my favorites. Except we never saved any real princesses."
"Well, we were young then. We hadn't been sent out into the real world yet... ."
" ...And there was no 'happily ever after'," he added quietly.
Francis had come bursting into the castle bailey. He panted, completely out of breath from running and weaving erratically down the halls. Just a few moments earlier he had glanced into the girls' room (definitely not trying to glimpse anything inappropriate). A wave of panic washed over him when he had only seen one figure on the floor. After scouring the room for any sign of Lizzie, Francis had immediately sprinted to wake Antonio and then to inform Gilbert of their little escapee.
Once he entered the bailey and looked up, however, he instantly skidded to a stop. Up over his head, he stared, almost awe-struck, as two figures leaned against each other. They spoke in low-toned, caressing voices.
Francis's eyes went from large and alert to soft and relieved.
Being as silent as the grave, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, smiling up at his friends.
Not one week ago he had been marching with deathly, menacing footsteps beside his fellow Order members. He had seen villages burned, men slaughtered, women raped. Two days ago he had feared for his life and was utterly terrified of the consequences of defecting with his friends. He had felt pain and anxiety and regret and sadness. It seemed that was all he felt lately...
And then they found Lizzie
and the world became a little brighter again. She gave all of them pleasant memories of a forgotten youth. She gave them hope.
Now he watched her and Gilbert, leaning heavily against one another as if there was no one else in the world, and it filled him with happiness.
Because look what this little woman could do.
They were quiet now. Gilbert held Elizaveta close, feeling her warmth, feeling her softness. Her head rested between his shoulder and his chest while her arms were wrapped around his middle.
This feeling, holding her in the silent night, it made him feel relaxed and anxious, brave and scared, strong and weak.
It was all he ever wanted and yet he felt so far away from her.
Probably because he knew the moment would not last.
And then, before he knew what he was doing, he began kissing her.
He pressed soft, slow, tender kisses into her hair, on her forehead and on her cheek.
He wrapped both of his arms around her and closed his eyes.
He was a trained warrior; he had spent the last five years of his life hardened to the world, doing unspeakable, unforgivable things. And yet she could make him forget all of that in less than a heartbeat. She could break his walls, she could overpower his senses, but she made everything seem right again.
She shouldn't have had this strong of an effect on him,
but at the same time, this was Elizaveta:
the little girl that calmed his fears as a child,
who fought dragons with him,
who never feared his devilish eyes,
who showed him how to dance,
who taught him what integrity was,
what friendship was,
what love was.
This was his Lizzie.
Still, it felt as though there was a part of her he couldn't quite reach. She was the same, but she was acting different, like there was some wall still separating them, and it wasn't just the circumstances they were in.
There was something different between them and he could sense it. That close bond they shared as children just wasn't quite there anymore.
And that pained him.
Elizaveta felt as though she could melt into Gilbert right now.
She knew she shouldn't be up there with him on the bergfried; she knew she should be back in the room watching over her friend...
but all she felt at the moment was the burning happiness growing in her chest and spreading over her body.
She felt her cheeks flush as he kissed her and she knew not whether to pull away or lean in to him more.
But his kisses were so... sad.
They were longing and gentle and almost apologetic. It made her want to cry.
Then, he kissed her shoulder. His warm lips barely grazed her skin and it tickled her. She couldn't suppress a soft laugh.
She sensed him smile and suddenly, he poked her side.
Elizaveta jolted and giggled again, happy to alleviate the sad mood.
"Stop," she whispered.
"Why?" he asked quietly. "Am I hurting you?" His hands began tickling her arms and her sides, refusing to release her from his grasp.
"N-no!" she cried. "You're tickling me!"
"Sshh! Liz, you're gonna wake everyone up. Stop yelling," he quietly teased.
She continued to laugh, trying desperately to push him away. "Stop tickling me!"
But he leaned over her and continued, smiling as she smiled, finding the greatest joy in hearing her musical laughter.
And, for the time being, he was not sad anymore.
His mischievous smirk returned, and he continued to tickle her.
Francis remained smiling upwards. He watched as his friend ruined a perfectly romantic moment and the partners fell on top of each other in a tickle-fight.
Definitely not where he would have gone with it, but whatever. It was still a heart-warming scene.
Antonio trotted in behind Francis with a panicked, tired expression.
"I- I cannot find- I can't find Elizaveta any-"
"Sssshh!" Francis held a finger to his lips and gestured upward.
Antonio then caught sight of the two laughing ex-comrades and smiled sweetly at the scene.
The Spaniard chuckled. "Should we let them know we're here?"
"We'll give them a minute," Francis decided out loud.
Lovina didn't know what woke her up, but immediately she noticed something was missing.
Kitty was gone. So was the door guard.
She sat up immediately.
"Kitty? Kitty?!"
The little princess stood up and stuck her head out of the door. Seeing no one, she continued on down the hall, frantically whispering the name of her companion.
Lovina weaved through the halls, opening and closing doors, until eventually she skidded into the main ward of the castle. She scanned the area and had yet to find anybody. "Kitty?" she tried desperately. "Anto-" She stopped.
Some distance above her head, she heard the gasping breaths of her young maidservant.
"Stop! Stop!" she heard Kitty beg.
When Lovina located the sound, what she saw horrified her.
That red-eyed demon of a man was ON TOP of her servant as she struggled beneath him.
Lovina gasped and began to shriek: "KIT-" but a hand clamped over her mouth.
She was dragged back into the shadows and two arms turned her around.
Antonio stared back at her and quickly removed his hand. "I'm sorry!" he apologized.
"Help her!" Lovina cried. "Help my Kitty! He's hurting her! He's ravishing her!"
Francis appeared, glancing at Antonio. They both looked back at her.
"No, no, it's not what it looks like-"
"She likes it," Francis added evilly.
"You perverted son-of-a-bitch! Let me go! I have to help-"
"I'm sorry, Princesa, but we have to get you back to your room." Antonio began leading her away.
Tears filled Lovina's eyes as she looked at him desperately. "I thought you were different. You'd just let him rape some innocent girl? You're... you're a monster!"
Antonio sighed as they continued walking. What was he supposed to say that she would believe? No, see, he's actually not raping her. They're just having a tickle-fight at one in the morning because they're actually best friends who've been separated for years with developing feelings for one another. But it's cool, everything's still PG here.
Yeah. Good luck with that bomb-shell.
"I wouldn't let him do that," Antonio said seriously, stopping her and looking into her eyes. "He's not raping her." Antonio had no clue what else to say... "She's up there with him willingly."
Lovina looked horrified. "She- she went with him willingly? Why- why would she- Oh my God. Oh Mio Dio, she must have taken me too seriously! I- I told her to do what he wants but I didn't mean... I didn't..." Lovina choked on tears as she analyzed the situation.
"Oh no! No llores, Princesa, don't cry. It's not your fault and he- I swear he wouldn't hurt her. Look, as evil and brutish as you think we are, we would never..." he trailed off, shaking his head earnestly.
Lovina wiped her eyes and sniffed. She did not seem to be hearing him. She fell against his chest and let the tears fall. "My poor, poor Kitty..."
Antonio sighed. Well, it was obvious that Lovina now permanently hated the guts of Gilbert Beilschmidt... but apparently she still trusted Antonio. So he gently patted her back and continued walking her back to the room.
A quarter of an hour later, Lovina was sitting alone in the little room. The door was closed again.
Suddenly, she heard the metal lock shift and the door creaked open. Kitty entered the room quietly and sat back down in her spot.
Lovina approached her hesitantly. "Kitty? Are- are you...?" She hugged her servant. "You're so brave," Lovina choked.
Elizaveta was utterly confused. "I am?"
Lovina released her, looked her up and down and, once she decided her servant looked relatively unscathed, chose not to ask any further questions about the events of the night.
"Let's just go to sleep," Lovina offered. She shared her blanket with Kitty.
Translations
* No llores, Princesa = Spanish for: 'Don't cry, Princess'.
Historical Facts
*The bergfried is a tall tower typically found in medieval castles in German-speaking countries.
*The story is a take-off of an old, German-based fable called The Four Skillful Brothers. There are several different versions of the story and I know I changed my version just a tad to fit with the time period. I read it and it reminded me of these guys!