Disclaimer: Ummm, nope. Still don't own Hetalia or The Princess Bride. Just this fanfic...sort of.
Natalya was brought up on a modest farm in the country of Florin. She loved to pass her time playing with knives and tormenting the poor, handsome young man that helped around her family's farm. We'll call him Alfred. Yet, Natalya had never called him that.
"Isn't that beautiful, Peter?" the Fin cooed, beaming over at his partner as their child rolled his eyes yet again.
"Of course, Mom. I'm crying with how wonderful it is."
Nothing gave Natalya as much pleasure (well, aside from her knives) than bossing Alfred around. After all, what use was a farmhand that you couldn't push around?
"You there," she demanded as she ambushed the young man in the stables, "polish my blades. I want to see my face shining in them when I use them next."
Alfred smiled and nodded his head as he replied with three simple words.
"As you wish."
With a scowl settled on her pretty face, Natalya thrust her knives towards Alfred and stalked off in a hurry. There was something about this boy, the young maiden decided as she left him working. "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.
The next time Natalya approached Alfred, the blonde was chopping wood, his muscles rippling with each swing of the axe and her young eyes lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should have.
"You there," she spat as she threw empty buckets at him. "Fill these with water for me." She scowled with all her might, pale face flushing as Alfred's dizzying blue eyes searched it. "Please…"
A smile graced his lips as he spoke, "As you wish" and tossed the axe to the ground before he picked up the buckets and carried them off.
The young woman crossed her arms, grimace still firmly distorting her pretty face, and watched the farm boy's back grow smaller and smaller still as he retreated. And, as she stared him down, she was amazed to discover the hidden meaning behind what seemed to be his favorite three words. Why, when he said "as you wish" to her….what he really meant was "I love you."
Even more shocking, still, was that a blushing Natalya soon realized that she, too, was in love with Alfred.
Natalya had been cooking, the day she discovered her feelings. "You there," she murmured softly as Alfred entered the room, her navy eyes focused only on the soft dough that squished between her fingers as she worked. She could feel his eyes on her back, waiting patiently for whatever command she was preparing to throw at him. Natalya took a deep breath, calming herself before turning a cool gaze to her farmhand. "Fetch me that right there," she ordered, pointing a slender finger at a board just barely out of her reach. She kept him fixed in her stare as he moved slowly, closing the much too large gap between them as he reached for the requested item.
"As you wish," he whispered, taking her hand instead as he neared her.
A small smile flashed across Natalya's face, and then she was in Alfred's loving embrace as the-
"Mom, ew. You never said this was a kissing book! Gross! Dad, this stuff made you feel better when you were sick?"
Berwald grunted in reply as Tino pouted at their "son".
"Peter…just let me read."
However, Alfred had no money to marry his beloved. So, having decided that Florin was no place to make a fortune, he set out to find this fortune across the sea. Natalya was enraged, to say the least, but seethed in a quiet manner as worry gnawed at her heart. So many things could happen to a young man at sea…
The pair lay together beneath a large tree, fingers intertwined as Alfred's calloused fingers twisted and curled in his true love's long hair.
"I fear I'll never see you again," she whispered into his chest, fighting that burning prick of tears in her eyes. Alfred's grip tightened around her, the fingers stilling and removing themselves as he came to rest his palm gently on her cheek, offering up a large grin.
"Mom, ewww. I can't believe this!"
"Of course you will…what type of hero disappears forever without his bride?"
"The type of hero who dies," she replied.
Alfred seemed unaffected; he smiled and stole a chaste kiss.
"My love, I will always come back for you. It's what heroes do."
Natalya shook her head, turning her face away. "How can you be so sure, Alfred?"
"What we have is true love. Nothing can stop it, Nat. That's why only heroes have it."
Natalya had nothing to say in reply, and simply kissed her dear Alfred goodbye as they pushed up from the ground to part ways. As she watched his back, growing smaller as he got farther, she couldn't help but have a sinking suspicion… Something was not right. The young woman's suspicions were confirmed several months later, when she received news that Alfred had never reached his destination with some distant family; his ship had been attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left his victims alive.
Upon hearing that her true love had been murdered, Natalya was overcome by immense grief. For days, she had locked herself in her room and refused any food. She sat, glassy-eyed, and stared out her window as the sun rose and set. As she sat there, her heart continuously breaking, she could not fight the tears that continued to roll in fat streams down her face and drip off of her chin. "I can never love again," she murmured as the sun's last light faded from her room and face. Silence settled as the tears picked up again, and the heartbroken maiden lowered her head to bury her face in her palms.
"I will never love again."
Five years came and passed from Alfred's death, and all of Florin was gathering to hear the announcement of the great Prince Francis's bride to be. There was no celebration larger than this, save for the wedding itself. Townsmen and women gathered in the square, chatting and gossiping and enjoying each other's company as the children ran about playing games and performers wove with skill in between them all. Everyone's voices joined together with bleats and calls of animals waiting to be sold and butchered, forming a wonderful chorus of peacetime affairs. The sun slowly dipped below the hills and castle walls, with not a cloud in the sky to damper this wonderful day. As trumpets blasted from the parapets, the din slowly faded to a dull rumble as all faces turned skyward to focus on the royal party.
The small band fanned out as they entered; a young guard with a pleasant face and thick brown hair stepped to the right, followed by a stern-faced man with beautiful green eyes and impossibly thick eyebrows. In the center stood perhaps the most handsome man on Earth; his skin appeared as if it were made of porcelain and his hair was a gorgeous blonde, thick and wavy, while his eyes were perhaps the deepest blue anyone could find in a person. This was the Prince. Beside him stood a hearty man with curly brown hair that was starting to gray and was stooping slightly with his age. To the elder man's side stood (what everyone presumed to be) a woman with long blond hair and looked as if she had just eaten the most sour lemon one could find, followed by a rather young and twitchy blonde guard to her left.
With a rather charming smile, the Prince held up a hand to signal the end of the fanfare, and began his address to the public.
"My people," he began as he clasped his hands across his stomach, "one month from now, our most wonderful country shall have its five-hundredth anniversary. And on that very sundown, I shall wed the most beautiful woman on this Earth. She was once a lowly commoner such as yourselves. But, as I have devoted my heart to her, she is no longer such a low-class citizen. Would you like to meet my bride?"
Everyone in the square let out a uniform roar, throwing their fists into the air in a sign of (what Prince Francis hoped to be) a sign of approval. None the less, he forged through.
"I give you," he bellowed as the crowd turned towards creaking gates, "Princess Natalya."
Natalya, a scowl settled upon her pretty face, tread lightly through the now open gates towards the end of the velveteen carpet spread beneath her feet. Francis had surely done a number on her, to prepare her for this moment. Her gown was an exquisite piece of clothing that clung to and emphasized her figure, a beautiful dress made of pale silk-like material. Her long hair, which shone in the light from the many rich salts and soaps that had been used on it, was twisted and knotted into an extravagant style. And while her cheeks glowed with a healthy blush, her frown silently scared the people away from their new Princess. For, it was merely the law of the lands that led Natalya into this engagement. She simply did not, nor would she ever, love Prince Francis.
Everyday, Francis made sure to set Natalya's worries at ease, to assure her that she would grow to love him as he loved her. And yet, she often only found joy whilst hiding in the kitchen with the cooks, slicing and chopping with the knives. The only other happiness she found came from the solitude and freedom of her daily rides. When she rode, Natalya often felt as if she were flying; this often led her to fall into a deep pit of despair and sorrow by the time her ride was over, as Alfred had often talked of his dreams to someday "capture the sky and fly with the birds". So always, while the sun sat high in the sky, Natalya would have her horse tacked up, and would then set out on a ride to forget where she was and to whom she was engaged.
There was nowhere Natalya didn't ride, in all of Florin. Her favorite spot to ride, though, was through a leaf-littered trail in the forest, where the castle could not see her and she could not see the sky that reminded the princess of her lost love. Here was where she would normally let loose, and let her horse run as fast as it pleased. Yet, as she happened upon an odd band of men stationed in the middle of her trail, Natalya slowed to a stop against her better judgment of running them down. As she scowled at all of them, she couldn't help but notice that they had somehow arranged themselves in order of height, and that the angry-looking man on the far right who was desperately trying to squirm out of the middle man's grasp had a frown that rivaled her own. As he proceeded to shove and curse at the middle man, Natalya took a moment to take them all in.
The angry-looking man, the smallest, had short, straight (except for the oddest of curls that stuck out from the right side of his head), brown hair and large hazel eyes. If he smiled more than he frowned, then perhaps she would have considered him doe-eyed. That was not the case, however, as it appeared to Natalya that this man scowled even more than she. Next was the middle man, with a large smile and light laugh. He, with more of a tan than either of his companions, had beautifully dark curls and wonderfully green eyes. He seemed the pleasant sort of fellow, the kind that brought a tiny smile twitching to Natalya's lips against her will. Last was the quiet one, a large fellow with pale skin and pale hair, a scarf despite the unusually warm fall weather, nearly-purple eyes, and a smile that twitched as if her presence made him nervous. Natalya scowled at him and the smile twitched more. He was then moved partially out of her field of vision as the happy man crashed into him and the now free angry man demanded her attention.
"A word, my lady?" he drawled in an odd accent. The happy man giggled, which earned a glare from his smaller friend, and then angry-man was facing her yet again.
"We are but poor, lost circus performers" he explained, minus the accent, as he crossed his arms and grimaced up at her. "Is there a village nearby?"
Natalya glowered back and replied, "There's nothing here, not for miles. I suggest you all curl up for warmth and then die because no one finds you before you freeze or starve to death."
The angry-looking man made a choked noise, happy man immediately latching onto him and countering with soothing "shh" noises as he stroked his back, and the giant eased closer towards her side.
"Then," angry man spat as he squirmed against happy man, "there'll be no one to hear your fucking screams!"
A puzzled expression crossed Natalya's face, and she almost thrashed out once the giant's hands were around her neck. Yet, she didn't get the time before she fainted. The giant caught her as she slumped on her horse, and heaved her effortlessly over his shoulder as happy man released the tiny angry man in favor of catching the horse before it fled.
"Come on, you sorry bastards," angry man hissed as he stalked off. Happy man looked to the giant and smiled, shrugging before following after him.
"Ayy, Lovi! Wait up, we have the Princess!"
"Fuck you, Antonio!"
Antonio sighed, tugging on the horse's lead as he smiled at the giant again. "Ay, what can you do? Vamos, Ivan! We have a Sicilian to catch up to!"
So, um...this is it for this chapter/update. I originally planned on it being much shorter. And then I planned on it being much longer. And, my friends, we ended up with it here in the middle. It took me forever to decide whether or not to change "Roberts" to some Hetalia name, but in the end it stayed. This story'll probably be updated very slowly, because I watch (or listen to) the movie as I type, so I know where exactly I'm going with it. Anyways. Now everyone should hopefully know who Count Rugen ended up being! If not, shame on you. I really hope that I have more free time, soon, and that this'll move along faster. Thanks for the reviews and faves this got~ It really doesn't deserve it. Aha..ha.
Anyway, tell me what you think! Are some of the characters too OOC? Think a certain character should get a certain part? Think that this is HORRIBLE? Tell me! I don't bite. C:
Turoruuuuuuu 3