Disclaimer: The Hetalia characters and their personifications belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. 日丸屋 秀和
Now featuring: What Not to do if You are a Knight by Gilbert Beilschmidt:
1.) Do not pick a battle with a tree... no matter how much it mocks you.
2.) Do not chop off a girl's hair with your sword while she has her head turned... nine times out of ten this will evoke a negative reaction.
Prologue
On one particular spring morning, when this fateful tale began, Elizaveta noted a statuesque man with a much paler complexion than her father was discussing the protection of their border lands.
She knew by his outfit that he was the head of some distinguished faction of knights. The "Teutonic Order", she recalled overhearing.
She couldn't be certain, however, for she could only catch disjointed fragments of conversation and nothing more than a passing glimpse at the man's gruff face as she was hauled by the arm back to her chambers.
The tight and (in her opinion) almost claw-like grip on her forearm belonged to the eldest chambermaid - a plump woman in her forties with a bitter expression - who was the primary bane of Elizaveta's existence.
With a dismal sigh and a determined pout, the child resigned herself to fate and allowed the servant to drag her through the too-familiar halls without putting up much of a protest
New day, same routine... Elizaveta thought cynically as she tripped along at the woman's heels.
Every day, without fail, the little girl would spend the majority of her time locked in her bed chamber, given some menial task or lesson to keep her occupied during the waning hours, until came supper and nightfall. Then, to her greatest joy, she would repeat the same basic process over again the next day!
And God help her if she ever asked the maid to go out and play.
It was all for her protection, her father had assured her.
She recalled his powerful voice: "I know you think this unfair, but young girls must be raised on sacred teachings... blah blah blah... devote their lives to female labors... blah blah blah... future role of wife and mother... blah... must keep busy to escape the harmful thoughts, the pleasures and vanities of the flesh."
Now, Elizaveta did not understand the word "vanities", nor did she have an inkling of the "sacred teachings" her father so often referred to. From the gist of his speech, however, Elizaveta comprehended that (at least according to the Lord Héderváry) it was better for her to be inside than outside.
Whether she agreed with his decision or not, was unimportant. His heart was in the right place, she decided.
She understood that her father kept her in that solitary little room for her safety, and not her imprisonment; to protect her from sickness, evil, and cruelty. And she sensed from his fond smile, his infrequent yet tender embraces, and his constant worry of the maidservants being too harsh in their methods of punishment, that her father (though distant and perhaps unsure of just how to be a father) loved her earnestly.
Finally, Elizaveta, with all her seven years of accumulated wisdom, seemed to know that deep down, all his fuss was really due to the fact that he could not endure another funeral of someone he loved so dearly... and how could she resent him for that?
...But if it ever had crossed the Lord Héderváry's mind that his daughter was a prisoner in her own home - if he ever once contemplated how much he was limiting her, how much she yearned to run and see and learn - he must have decided it was a price worth paying. Her strict daily regimen was never once altered. Life was a monotonous litany.
.
The calloused hand jerked her roughly back into the congested room and grumbled an incoherent command which Elizaveta could only assume was an order to practice her embroidery. Then the door was slammed shut. Just like every day.
"Uggghhh," she groaned, turning away from the thick wooden door frame.
And just like every day, Elizaveta dragged her stool over to the window and gazed desolately at the world outside.
Thus, those eager eyes we spoke of before, full of passion and vitality, would bask in the forest scene before her and the seemingly endless sky above her.
Sometimes she wished she was one of those little birds who ate the breadcrumbs below her windowsill. Only imagine how far she could fly if given a set of wings!...
She picked up her needle and thread and was about to begin her stitching, just like every other ordinary day, when she realized with a slight start
that this day was suddenly a tad different.
For this day, she saw a little boy obstructing her usual view out the window.
He was certainly... curious in appearance:
a shock of white hair above a pale, rounded face and large, piercing red eyes. He appeared to be roughly the same age as herself.
He ran around in circles, stick in hand, swinging wildly at imaginary beasts. He looked quite ridiculous shouting at the air in such an intense manner.
She giggled as she spied upon the youthful page-boy.
She wanted desperately to go out and talk to him, but at the same time, felt slightly intimidated.
She observed the boy pick up a rock and hurl it forcefully at a tree, only to have it deflect and strike him in his forehead. His head lurched backwards due to the impact.
Okay, so he didn't seem that intimidating... or bright.
Glancing from side to side, the little girl hoisted herself up and over the windowsill. Her tiny feet sank rebelliously into the soil beneath her.
Smiling brightly, she padded over to the queer little child.
"Can I play?" she asked eagerly. The boy, surprised by the sudden interruption, nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned quickly and looked the newcomer up and down from her shining hair to the hem of her tangerine-colored dress.
"Nein. You have to be a knight. And not just any knight - AN AWESOME KNIGHT - if you want to take down all these monsters," he gestured toward the ferocious-looking trees behind him.
With a sly smile, she snatched his "sword" and took a few sloppy practice swings, jabbing and slashing at the air. "Are you a knight?" she inquired.
"N-Nein... I mean, not yet! But I will be one day! Right now I serve one of the most kick-ass, fearsome knights in the Teutonic Order! And he is teaching me to be AWESOME!"
She smirked and handed him back the stick. "Sounds pretty awesome," she mocked. "Hey, what's that?"
On the ground, wrapped in a maroon cloth, was what appeared to be a gleaming saber.
"It is my mission," declared the albino child, puffing out his chest proudly. "I am to guard my master's sword while he is discussing important... uh... knight things! No one is to lay a finger on it... including me."
He shrugged off the last two words, although Elizaveta guessed the knight probably emphasized that part of his instructions with extra vigor to the boy.
Nodding in affirmation, they fell into an awkward silence.
"Hey!" the boy punched her arm, "Bet you can't defeat that dragon over there." He pointed his stick at the large oak tree several yards away. "Can't hit it with catapults..." he pointed to the developing bruise where the rock struck his forehead, "and it's too strong for our swords!"
Elizaveta smiled, quickly catching on to the game. "What? Don't you know the secret of slaying dragons? You have to climb on top of it and chop off its head!" The green-eyed girl raced to the base of the tree and skillfully climbed into its limbs.
Then, balancing as she stood, she snapped a thin, leafy branch off the tree and cast it down to the grass below, like a severed head being cast into a fiery pit.
"If I were a knight," she called victoriously from above, "I would be the smartest, bravest knight in all the lands!"
The boy laughed, impressed by her creativity. He liked this kid, although he had never seen a girl aspiring to be a warrior before. "Hey kid, what's your name?" he asked.
"Elizaveta," she answered, hopping down from the old oak.
"Elizaveta Héderváry?!"
She nodded.
"The Lord's daughter? Whoa, whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa. Y-you can't be playing out here- I- I mean, you're supposed to be in the castle, not out here screwing around!" His face showed genuine alarm. He tried to grab her arm and pull her back in the direction of the castle.
"No!" She lurched away from him with large eyes. "I don't want to be locked in there!"
"Well I don't want that sword shoved up my butt when you get hurt on my watch."
"I'm not some glass chalice waiting to break! You don't understand- I'll be locked in that room all day and all night!"
She scrambled back over to the tree and leaned heavily against the trunk, glaring angrily at the ground in a determined pout. "You just don't understand," she tilted her head towards the sky, "even while serving a master you're free. I'd give anything to be like you... ."
He stared at her uncomprehendingly at first, but quickly blinked back the confusion. She looked so sincere. So... sad.
What a lonely life that must be, he thought, trapped in that tiny room beneath the lonely tower.
Young as he was, naive as he was, he knew that was no life for someone so brave and full of life.
But at the same time, his job was to protect noble ladies, was it not...?
Ugh. Decisions are so hard to make.
But then, a brilliant, not-so-completely-thought-out idea slipped into his juvenile mind.
He picked up the shining blade from the ground and walked slowly up to the girl underneath the tree, who was still gazing at the sky.
Next, he grabbed her thick, honey-brown curls in one hand and swung down the sword in the same instant - chopping all of them off.
She gasped aloud. Her hand instinctively flew to the severed strands of her beautiful curls. Feeling that they were lacking in volume by a startling amount, her eyes grew larger than dinner plates. She gaped at him, too shocked to even scream.
"Liz," he began, "my name is Gilbert, from the house of Beilschmidt. And you-" he tied his cloak around her and placed her hand over his own on the hilt of the sword, "-are now my partner. We will be a duo, and I will teach you how to be a valiant knight."
She stared at the fallen locks for a moment longer. Shocked. What the hell did this insane little brat just do?
And wait... what did he just say? Be his partner?
Slowly, impossibility of his proposal left her childish mind and was replaced by wild hope. She threw her arms around him in a wave of ecstasy.
"REALLY? Do you mean it?" she squealed, "D-do you think we can? I get to be a real knight? Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
He laughed, "Hey, if you really are locked in that room all day, who's gonna notice if you slip away for a few hours, huh?"
She squeezed him tighter, "...And you'll keep this a secret? You promise?"
"Only if you keep mine," he glanced at the forbidden sword he was holding on to.
A few moments later, the giggling youngsters raced to the castle wall. Gilbert boosted Elizaveta up through the window and she pulled him up after her.
In front of the looking-glass in the far corner of her bed chamber, Elizaveta admired her disguise. With her short hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her torso adorned in a burlap tunic, and smudges of dirt intentionally plastered over her face, she looked like the perfect, rugged little boy.
The more the children developed their little plan, the more achievable this dual-personality stunt seemed to become.
That's when her chamber door creaked open.
"M'Lady? I brought you some- Oh MY!"
The overly-emotional servant woman dropped the tray of food she had previously been carrying. In the same instant, Elizaveta pulled her fully into the room and slammed the door shut.
"Elizaveta you-you-you- ...YOUR HAIR! Oh heavens, what did you do to yourself, child?"
Gilbert had dashed to the window, seemingly caught between the impulse to escape and to help Elizaveta deal with the intruder.
Elizaveta, however, was not all that scared. She thanked God that the servant was not her pompous chamber-maid.
Instead, the young servant woman (a Slavic lady of about 22 with short, light-blond hair; large, expressive eyes; and a curvy figure with a protruding chest) had graced their presence.
Elizaveta was very fond of this servant; she was a funny, motherly lady who had been almost like an older sister to her for most of her life. More relevantly however, Elizaveta knew that she could trust her with anything.
She pulled the woman to the side, trying to calm her down. "Irunya, it's okay... we were just... " she looked between the red set of eyes near the window and the concerned blue ones directly above her, "... just... " Elizaveta's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears as the gravity of what she was attempting to do settled upon her. This was everything her father forbid. This was everything society forbid. A noblewoman cross-dressing as a page-boy? Was this even feasible? The answer was no! Of course not! The odds of her pulling this off - of maintaining the appearance and physical ability of a male, of never being recognized, of dodging every question that would undoubtedly arise to explain her whereabouts - it was ludicrous. And even as children, Elizaveta knew the punishments for both her and Gilbert would be painfully severe if they were caught. Yet, as irrational and risky and stupid as this all seemed... it was not impossible. And she could not let go of that wild hope. In that moment, with the two pairs of eyes boring into her, Elizaveta evaluated her options. Out there was a risky life. In here, there was no life.
"Irunya, I know this is asking a lot, but... I need you to keep a secret."
From that day on, Lady Elizaveta would be locked in her room early in the morning, just as she always had. But now, each day she would trade in her dress for a tunic, pants and boots which she kept hidden under her bed. Then, she would slip out her window and spend most of her daylight hours with Gilbert as Eli: a young page-boy from... Bavaria. Yeahhh... Bavaria.
She remembered Gilbert's master, Sir Frederick, looking at her for the first time with great, almost amused curiosity. At first his expression was that of surprise, then amusement, then contemplation and finally, acceptance. The two children had stood for what felt like an eternity, sweating under his changing gaze. Eventually, however, he smiled with the response: "As long as I don't have to feed you and you're determined to learn, you're welcome to tag along."
Elizaveta learned the art of the sword and the bow. She was given a boy's education, learning how to read and do math. She hunted and learned about religion, strategy and chivalry.
Each evening, with the help of Irunya, she would slip back, unseen, into the castle, hastily wash the dirt of the day out of her skin and hair, change back into her dress and style her hair in a braided bun atop her head all before supper began.
In the beginning she had difficulty explaining the dramatically shortened hair and often had to make excuses for the cuts and bruises she earned occasionally at training. But so strict was her schedule that never once was she discovered missing from her chambers. And when she was called upon and nowhere to be found, Irunya - more or less Elizaveta's guardian angel - always had a clever excuse.
In the time that she spent at home, Elizaveta learned sewing and embroidery; she was taught her catechism, the poise and proper behavior of noble women, and the art of music and dance.
She learned patience, honor, endurance and justice.
She and Gilbert taught each other everything they knew, helped each other in every way they could and were ultimately inseparable. They were best friends.
It was a busy life, but a satisfying one. And she was happy.
Note* this is a 'fairytale' with a historically-framed setting.
This simply means that history nerds like me can sleep more soundly at night knowing that the stories they read are at least somewhat conceivable in a historical context
...and that others of you can justify your obsession with Hetalia to parents and peers in noting that it is, in fact, educational and helps you learn about culture, politics, and history (but we all know you are really just in this fandom due to your combined love of pasta noodles and late-night anime).
But for me, these notes are just a vain attempt to prove I am doing something somewhat productive with my life.
Historical Notes
* Young Gilbert is a page-boy. In medieval times, a page was an attendant to a knight, i.e. an apprentice squire. Upon reaching seven years old, a boy would be sent to the castle of another noble family. A young boy served as a page for about seven years, running messages, serving, cleaning clothing and weapons, and learning the basics of combat. It was seen as a form of education in return for labor. They received no other reimbursement besides clothing, accommodation, and food.
* Pages received training in horse-riding, hunting, hawking and hand-to-hand combat. The training also included reading and writing, learning to play instruments and even practicing chess. (Tuchman, Barbara W. A Distant Mirror - the Calamitous 13th Century. p. 52 & 62.)
* As a young lady of noble class, Elizaveta would have been part of a small minority of women who were educated privately, learning the basics of reading and writing, religious teachings, music, poetry, embroidery and the various duties of wives and mothers. (Rosalie Gilbert 2015). Women's education was a hotly debated subject during the 13th and 14th centuries however, and the speech her father gave her about the role of women is actually a paraphrased version of "De Educatione Liberorum" written in 1440 by Matteo Veggio.
* Irunya is the suggested name for Ukraine. (See: wiki/List_of_Hetalia:_Axis_Powers_characters) She is one of Elizaveta's servant women (a lady-in-waiting could be described as a female personal assistant at a court [royal or feudal] attending on a queen, princess, or high-ranking noblewoman. It is a generic term for women whose relative rank, title, and official functions varied. [Nadine Akkerman: The Politics of Female Households: Ladies-In-Waiting Across Early Modern Europe (2013)] Although, in this case, Irunya is probably closer to that of a slave or servant, especially because from 1100-1500 CE, the European slave trade sold both Slavic and Baltic slaves [among other ethnic groups][Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters:White Slavery in the Mediterranean, the Barbary Coast and Italy, 1500-1800]. Howerver, how Irunya ended up in Elizaveta's castle is not disclosed.)
* During the 13th century, the Teutonic Knights were, for the most part, occupied with what is known as the 'Prussian Crusades'. This means that the Teutonic Order mostly seized lands across the Baltic States, Poland, and Northern Germany. However, their power and influence spanned across the European continent and they had connections all over the place.
The Knights were also 'invited' for various defense and/or crusade purposes by rulers throughout Europe... and generally not asked to come back; such is the case with King Andrew of Hungary in 1211. However, many popes, princes, kings, and nobles sought their aid.
Therefore, this story would be somewhat theoretical in the fact that there were Teutonic Knights defending a Hungarian king who ruled lands in lower Germany within the Holy Roman Empire. But hey, let's use our imaginations because this story is about to get a lot more multicultural than that... welcome to the world of Hetalia everybody.