It's been a while, but here's your update.
I needed this time off, I won't lie. With work and prepping for college, I've barely had time to sleep, much less write. However, I've been in California visiting my cousins and I am feeling thoroughly refreshed.
This chapter will definitely live up to the 'T' rating (for violence), so consider this your warning.
I do not own Hetalia.
-X-
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Roderich, Elizaveta made a quick decision. She sprinted to the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped the still-full tray in the sink, not even flinching at the clattering china.
Using the servant's passageway, Elizaveta ducked into the garden shed, which was now being used to store battle supplies—and spare uniforms. She slammed the sliding door shut, in too much of a hurry to care that it bounced back open.
Elizaveta threw off her apron and many layers of skirts until she was standing only in her chemise. She then grabbed the tightly fitted black pants and stuffed her thin undergarment in, absentmindedly hoping that the long white overcoat would hide the extra bulge around her hips—and her chest, for that matter. Giving a prayer of thanks to anyone who was listening for the hats large enough to hide her hair, she crammed her long locks in the cap, snatched a blade and scabbard, and strode swiftly out on the lawn.
Her transformation was just quick enough for her to file in with the foot-soldiers at the back of the line. Straining her eyes, Elizaveta could barely make out mounted figures at the head of the procession. Elizaveta willed her heart to slow and the adrenalin to leave her veins; she would need her strength.
-X-
The sun was right above them now, and so the troops drove forward. Elizaveta estimated one and a half thousand men marched for Roderich today.
She could only hope it would be enough. The men were tired; their ranks and stringent formations slipped as the day wore on.
Reveling in the freedom of men's garb, Elizaveta kept her pace. She ignored the glances from the troops beside her; with no skirts to hinder her path, fatigue could not touch her. Dust from the road clung to her face, masking her feminine features, and her cap remained securely perched on her head, despite her voluminous hair, and after a while, Elizaveta stopped worrying about being discovered and allowed herself to enjoy the countryside.
Her first journey out of Roderich's mansion in ore years than she cared to count, and it was off to war. Still, beggars can't be choosy.
She could easily imagine running through the lush fields of Austria that were so like her own back home in Hungary.
Home is such a powerful word. A home can be so easily destroyed and stolen, rebuilt. It is a sanctuary, a stable rock in the unpredictable waves of the world. And yet, it is flexible; homes can change, can't they? She would call this foreign country home if she were allowed to keep one thing she had found here.
Elizaveta angrily wiped away the weakness pooling in her eyes.
-X-
The sun had begun to set by the time they reached the Turkish camp. Roderich's troops were exhausted and soon the opposing forces would be in sight.
As Elizaveta crested the top of the final hill, she gasped at the scene before her. The Turks were a sea of red and gold, and splayed across the field against the sky shot with crimson, it was impossible to tell where the army ended and the spectacular sunset began.
As she descended, following the Austrian troops ahead of her, Elizaveta noticed Turkish soldiers nudging one another and emerging from tents to march alongside Roderich's men. They jeered as they followed, pointing and sneering at the tired men.
Elizaveta gritted her teeth and stuck her jaw out, fighting the urge to retaliate. Beside her, some of her fellow men in white did the same, denying the Turks the satisfaction of eliciting a response.
They continued their march through the army until they had crossed through the entire camp. At the end, from a tent grander than the others and set aside, unprotected from the rest, Sadiq emerged, grinning broadly.
The Austrian troops were closer together now, drawn in unwittingly by the claustrophobic atmosphere. Instinctively, Elizaveta's huntress instincts kicked in and she desperately looked for an escape. Everywhere she looked was a scarlet-clad soldier or the wall of a crimson tent. She felt as though she were drowning in red.
Her eyes still searched for relief; she found it in a man garbed in white who was currently dismounting his horse to approach Sadiq.
Sadiq held his arms out wide in an expression of welcome, but even from a distance, Elizaveta could see his black-beetle eyes glittering with undisguised malice.
Roderich strode forward stiffly, his back rigid as he tried to take over a piece of the spectacle. Sadiq had the upper hand—in location of the meeting and overall imposing physique.
The silence remained and the tension built as the two leaders stared each other down. The generals, so eager to take charge before, were cowering in their saddles, and even though they were mounted on their steeds, they were still heads shorter than the large Turk.
Elizaveta snapped out of her mental reprimanding of the generals at the sound of Roderich's voice. "I have come, Sadiq. I have come to finish this at last." His voice was high and clear. It wasn't the cold, dismissive tone he used when he was angry or the short, taught voice he used when he was afraid. This was different and it heartened her slightly. There was something hidden within his voice, a certain masculine protectiveness that Elizaveta had never heard before.
Against logic, Sadiq's smile broadened. "At last!" He repeated. "Young Roderich has plucked up his courage, I see. I must say, my boy, I am impressed." A mocking chuckle spread collectively through the Turkish army.
"I assume you are prepared for the negotiations, then?" Roderich demanded, reclaiming the scene.
Sadiq sneered, "Of course." Arms still spread open wide, he gestured up the hill to his striking tent.
"You may bring some of your men with you, Roderich, if it makes you feel more comfortable," Sadiq said derisively.
Roderich tensed. To accept would mean losing this round—not to mention looking weak and cowardly. On the other hand, refusing to bring soldiers into an enemy's ground would be foolish. Elizaveta could see him debating this and took her chance to advance, knowing what he would decide.
Roderich nodded to the captain of the first squadron and the captain saluted. The captain gestured to the first two lines to follow. Elizaveta merged in with the troops, earning her quizzical looks, but none of the footmen said a word. She could only pray no one would count.
With Roderich in the lead, Antonio and Herakles close behind, and the generals nowhere in sight, the group trudged up the hill after Sadiq with as much dignity as their tired limbs would allow.
Once inside the enormous tent, which was, like the rest of the camp, a hellish nightmare of red, Sadiq gestured for Roderich to sit as he lowered himself on a voluptuous pillow. Roderich hesitated, but then slowly sat down across from Sadiq with only a low table to separate them. Everyone else remained standing, tense and expectant. Only two men stood behind Sadiq.
"So," Sadiq stated broadly after a suitable amount of time had passed, thus allowing Elizaveta and the others to grow uncomfortable. His heavy musk smell filled the enclosed space and was beginning to make Elizaveta dizzy.
"So," Roderich repeated, his tone bordering on condescending. Elizaveta's heart leaped at his courage, but silently begged him not to go too far.
Sadiq's eyebrow twitched—his only response. "You have acknowledged our meeting," he began expansively. "And you have not come with what is most precious to you. However, you have not come unprepared. Pity your efforts will come to naught; it's a shame to destroy so much and gain so little." Maliciousness filled the very air; it came off him in waves. "Not to impugn your efforts thus far, Roderich, for I am sure they have been extensive," Sadiq added disdainfully.
"Indeed they have," Roderich responded. "We have been gathering for quite some time."
"So I see. But really, Roderich, so few?" He chuckled mirthlessly. "Why, one might think you weren't even trying," Sadiq's gaze grew sharp as his eyes bore into Roderich's. "Perhaps…" He began again, "She can't mean that much to you after all."
She? Elizaveta thought, completely perplexed.
Roderich tensed. If he gets any more riled up, he's going to scream in Sadiq's face, Elizaveta thought.
Roderich didn't say a word.
Elizaveta was itching to find out who she was, but now was not the time. Try as she might, the heavy aroma made her brain sluggish, and Elizaveta found herself drifting. One moment she would be in the tent, hearing Roderich and Sadiq play word games (which she had never been fond of) and the next she would be dwelling over this mysterious figure…she…Who could that be?
"Elizaveta—"
Like a knife slicing through the fog in her mind, Elizaveta refocused.
"—is not part of this," Roderich stated forcefully. Elizaveta listened intently, wide-eyed.
"Ha! How could she not be?" Sadiq leaned forward, and it was easy to imagine saliva dripping from canine fangs. "You owe me Roderich—for not squashing you twenty years ago."
"I owe no—" But Sadiq cut him off.
"Enough wordplay. I'll put it simply: give me the girl, or I slaughter every boy and man you have gathered here today. I'll find her, Roderich, it's only a matter of time…and how much life you are willing to lose. Either way, the blood spilt will be on your hands."
Elizaveta wouldn't listen to any more.
"What?"
-X-
Her voice cut through the air like a whip.
"What?"
Roderich whirled around, horrified.
She stood be the tent's entrance, garbed in a white military uniform. Roderich had no idea how he hadn't noticed her before; she wasn't exactly in perfect uniform. Her shape was poorly concealed, and the delicate ribbons from the top of her chemise were visible over the neck of the overcoat.
Was this courage? Or blatant stupidity?
Sadiq leaned back, apparently at ease.
"Elizaveta, I was wondering how long you could keep quiet."
Roderich faced him and shouted angrily, "You knew she was there?"
"Of course. She doesn't exactly have the figure of a man." At this his eyes raked her form unabashedly, his gaze hungry.
Roderich stepped in front of Sadiq's field of vision, shielding Elizaveta from view.
"Elizaveta," Roderich began, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Get out of here."
Elizaveta was flabbergasted, "Get out? Why? If I can stop this—"
` "Get out NOW!" Roderich yelled as he unsheathed his rapier.
"Seize her," Sadiq ordered. "The rest are of no use to me."
The two guards flanking Sadiq suddenly leaped into action, faces blank, expressionless masks. Antonio engaged one and Roderich deflected a blow from the other, still standing in front of Elizaveta. Herakles wasted no time by leaping straight for Sadiq himself. Sadiq drew his long blade and blocked Herekles' attack, but his size and strength overwhelmed the lean Greek. Sadiq countered and back-handed Herakles' skull.
Antonio fared better; he and the Turkish guard were evenly matched. Antonio made up for their difference in size in speed. He dodged every attack, countering with light jabs to keep the other man occupied.
Roderich was skilled with a blade; that much was obvious. Though he loathed weapons, even Elizaveta could not help but admire his eerie grace and precision.
Roderich saw an opening in the Turk's defense, and took his chance quickly and efficiently. The man fell as Roderich withdrew his blade form his torso.
Turning and grabbing Elizaveta by the shoulders he said urgently, "You have to leave, now. He'll take you away from—"
"Roderich, look out!" Antonio screamed.
Roderich's eyes widened in shock as the Turkish guard Antonio was fighting moments ago slipped his blade in Roderich's back.
"No!" Elizaveta screamed as the Turk drew his blade back. Roderich began to fall, and Elizaveta caught him with her left arm. With her right, she drew her blade and ran it cleanly between the man's ribs. He dropped like a marionette whose strings were cut, flopping onto the floor in a pile of functionless limbs.
A pool of red was blossoming perilously quickly on the back of Roderich's white coat, sending Elizaveta into a blind haze of panic.
Herakles came up to her and grabbed her face with both of his hands, forcing Elizaveta to look him directly in his wise olive eyes.
"Elisabet," Herakles whispered intently. "Elisabet, you must listen." Elizaveta tore her gaze away from Roderich's troops surrounding Sadiq and directed her attention to Herakles.
"You must take him back to the mansion, Elisabet. Sadiq knows where it is, but it is safe and well supplied. You must hurry; take Roderich's horse and do not stop."
Elizaveta nodded and tore out of the tent.
She barely heard Sadiq yell for his men to arrest her; she was so frightened for Roderich.
Elizaveta all but threw him on his grey-dappled palomino and leaped onto the saddle behind him. She searched for an exit, but only saw the two armies in a frenzy.
She spurred the stallion forward, through the throng. Most of the men parted at the galloping horse, but some weren't quick enough. Elizaveta could only hope she only trampled the ones in red.
It was dark now, and even though she was now clear of the horrible camp, she could hear the clanging of metal and the occasional cracking fire of a gun.
She rode hard, pushing the steed faster, praying that Roderich could hold on.
"Stay with me," Elizaveta whispered.
-X-
I hope I didn't disappoint; this was quite challenging.
The end is nigh! Full speed ahead!
Always,
~Kaiya
-"Elisabet" is the Greek version of Elizabeth. I like the idea of everyone having their own way to address Elizaveta.
-Again, this story is mostly AU, so I won't always be historically accurate.