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:
36.) Throwing mud at your love interest's face is NOT considered flirtatious and is frowned upon.
Gone Huntin'
Two whole days passed in the fort. It ceased raining but the water had yet to recede. The men plotted and planned and came up with...
nothing. The women sat with their hands tied... literally for Elizaveta.
The girls were allowed to explore the castle under some supervision, and were allowed alone time in their room.
And being locked behind stone walls was something that, although not very appealing, was familiar to both of them.
Despite the delays, everything went relatively smoothly... well, as far as kidnappings can go. Until...
"OKAY, that's it! We literally do not have any food! What do you expect me to eat? The burlap sacks!? I'm not used to your soldier rations. FEED ME BEFORE I FREAKING DIE!"
"I so want to hit you..." Gilbert mumbled under his breath, referring to the ranting Italian.
"What was that, ass-hat?!"
"Nothing. Hmm, you're actually not exaggerating for once though. Freaky. But you are right. We are all out of food."
The boys did not seem at all bothered by this... in fact, did they look, happy?
"So this means... what, exactly?" Eliza prompted tentatively.
"Oh, pffft! Liz, you think they actually fed us decently in that army? NO! The awesome us had to provide for ourselves out there. Like MEN!"
"Hunt-ing trip! Hunt-ing trip!" cheered the other boys.
"Right!" Gilbert said excitedly, almost maniacally. "A hunting expedition."
"Good, I'm starving. Bring back something big," Lovina commented offhandedly as she began walking away.
"I'll get my arrows!"
"I'll get my ax~"
"Woah woah woah, hold on there, big guy," Gilbert stopped Antonio. Then, posing the question as he would to a five-year-old, asked, "...If all three of us are hunting, who's watching the hostages?"
It took Antonio a long moment before he gasped, "No one! No one is watching the hostages!"
"Right... so Francis has the arrows and I'm the best shot. So I'm making it your duty to stay here."
The smiley Spaniard deflated but submitted, "Awww... okay."
He probably would have put up more of a protest, but he honestly didn't mind having to stay with Lovina longer.
Francis began to sling his quiver across his back, and the girls along with the ax-bearing weirdo started to turn away when-
"WAIT! One more thing," the cat-like grin returned to Gilbert's face. "We are not going to leave the two little psychopaths alone with... well... Antonio, while we are not around."
"What is that supposed to mean?" an Italian and Spanish accent cried in unison.
"You," Gilbert declared pointing at Elizaveta, "are going to have to come with us."
"I'M NOT LETTING POOR KITTY GO WITH THE TWO OF YOU ALONE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS!" defended Lovina angrily. "And I don't want to be here by myself with him!" she pointed a thumb at the green-eyed man.
"...I'll be okay..." Elizaveta spoke slowly, "and so will you. Here, take this."
She handed over Gilbert's engraved Teutonic sword to Lovina.
At the sight of it, Gilbert's hand shot down to his hip, feeling disbelievingly at the empty sheath. "How- how do you keep getting that!?"
Elizaveta shrugged nonchalantly. "Slipped it off you."
Gilbert stared at her with harsh, angry eyes. However, although he did not realize it, his expression had lost all scolding power, because he was smiling at her.
She smiled proudly (albeit discretely) to herself as well.
"Fine then. Francis, give me your sword. Let's go hunting."
Elizaveta trotted in between them. Francis walked in front of her while Gilbert walked behind her, scraping something with his blade methodically. She tried to duck the low-hanging branches and thorny underbrush that scratched at her face, but the task was proving rather difficult with her bound wrists.
They made their way deep into the woods, but it did not seem as dark now. The rain had finally ceased its relentless tirade and the trio trudged on through the damp newly-greened vegetation.
They came to a small break in the trees when suddenly, Francis stopped. The other two followed suit and halted their steps.
"Alright, this is far enough. Have you finished stringing the second bow?"
"Yup!" Gilbert answered.
"Oui," Francis nodded approvingly. He handed Gilbert half the arrows in his quiver - three for each of them.
They passed the arrows in front of Elizaveta's face.
The ruby-eyed boy took them gratefully.
"Alright," Francis began, "I will go scout west of here. You, Gilbert, can take the east. I'm assuming you have everything covered here with...?" he gestured toward Elizaveta.
"Oh, come now Francis, the weak little maiden - who she insists she is - couldn't possibly hurt me."
"I can't promise he won't be dead by the time you get back, Francis," Elizaveta added bitterly.
Francis only laughed looking between the two of them. "Alright then, I believe there is some tension that needs to be cleared up here anyway so, au-revoir love-birds~! Pierre! Are you coming?"
"HEY!" they each yelled indignantly after him. They glanced angrily at one another when their words overlapped. The last they saw of the man was the small ball of white plumage following him as he disappeared over a short ridge not far ahead.
After a moment of silence, while the solitary pair stared after the Frenchman, Gilbert suddenly grabbed Elizaveta's hands and, in one foul swoop, sliced the ropes off of her.
Standing beneath the trees, she stared in surprise as she watched the tassels fall to the ground.
(Well isn't this scene familiar)
"You have a bad habit of making decisions without consulting others."
"Hey, that's what good leaders do."
"No it's not!"
"Shut up. Do you want to help me hunt or just sit there and complain?"
Her eyes immediately lit up. "Wait, really? You want me to help?"
"Sure!" he said earnestly. "You may be a little rusty in your skills, and... I can see you haven't been working out-"
"Excuse me? I kicked your ass on that carriage! And I'm in shape..." She looked down worriedly at her mid-section.
"For the last time, you caught me off guard okay?! And you've got no muscle tone. Not to mention you're skinnier than you were five years ago. Newsflash, Liz, kids are supposed to grow, not shrink," he sniggered. "But anyway, once a warrior, always a warrior Liz!"
"Oh, I'm done listening to insults," she huffed, stepping away.
Suddenly, both of their ears perked up to a soft, barely audible crunching of leaves nearby.
They each froze, locked eyes, and, without any further bickering or discussion, they were back in their same routine as years ago; back when they were children in the Far East Forest. They were back when they were still partners and collaborated using silent strategy to take down their prey.
With a single finger over his lips, signaling her to remain quiet, Gilbert began to creep softly forward around the wall of underbrush before them. Elizaveta followed behind, bending low with slow, cautious steps.
Just around the bushes, standing in between two birch trees about 50 paces ahead, was a hesitant, young doe with her head bent low. It tentatively nibbled at the blades of grass that poked through the leaves covering the ground. Even as it grazed, its legs were spread, its tail was up, and its eyes remained alert, as if it were ready to bolt at any moment.
Gilbert slowly reached back to grab an arrow from where he had placed them in his satchel. But, as he shifted his weight, a twig beneath his right foot snapped.
The deer's head shot up and both hunters froze with widened eyes. Nothing in the forest took a breath.
Then, to their silent relief, the doe once again lowered her head to the earth and returned to grazing.
Before Gilbert could proceed to notch an arrow, he felt a hand gently tap his shoulder. Elizaveta leaned in as close as possible next to his ear and whispered in such a soft voice that the words were a barely audible breath of air. "Can I shoot?"
The question was very hesitant, as though she was asking his opinion rather than his permission.
He turned to look at her and was met with large, shyly questioning green eyes.
Not having a second thought, he silently transferred the bow and arrow to her hands, making sure she had a secure grasp on the objects so they didn't slip from her fingers and crunch upon leaves on the forest floor.
She took them firmly, with a determined gleam in her eyes.
She softly repositioned her feet from where she squatted under the cover of the shrubbery. She fumbled a bit trying to notch the arrow, but eventually succeeded and raised the bow to shoulder-level. She lingered in that position, trying to recall all the memories of lessons that had been dormant in her mind for years: straight arm, elbow back... which eye was her dominant one again?
Gilbert saw her hesitation and quickly moved behind her.
He reached around her and pushed her bow up a bit; then, placing his hands upon her waist, turned her torso so she was facing a better direction. And with these small adjustments, suddenly things felt right again. Waves of nostalgia rushed back to her, and she unconsciously let her muscle memory work for her. Her fingers adjusted themselves. She thoughtlessly closed one eye and took a deep breath. Gilbert removed his hands and left the rest to his capable partner, watching as she smoothly, gracefully, let the arrow fly.
With a snap, the arrow propelled forward and, in a mere second, met its intended mark clean through the doe's shoulder and chest cavity.
The creature fell dead on its side instantaneously.
"I did it!" she gasped excitedly. With one hand, she grabbed hold of Gilbert's upper sleeve and shook him, "IdiditIdiditIdiditIdiditIdiditIdidit!"
He laughed heartily, "Great job Liz, I knew you could. You're awesome!"
Still smiling, they made their way over to the slain animal. Gilbert removed a folded burlap sheet secured on his back with rope. He proceeded to lay the sheet on the ground so as to wrap up the deer carcass and haul it back to camp.
Elizaveta removed the arrow from the animal's body but did not immediately hand it back to Gilbert. She examined it, from its bloodied tip to the splayed feathers at its opposite end. She felt the weight of it in her hand. "So you guys really don't have many weapons with you, huh?"
"Don't need to carry a whole arsenal if you're skilled with what you got. We each use mainly just one: Antonio's ax, Francis's arrows, my old blade." He paused. "Well, me and Francis usually carry our decorative swords too. Oh! And then there's this..."
He reached into his sleeve and slowly pulled out an 8-inch long metal object.
He handed her an aged and weathered yet elaborately decorated dagger. It had a smooth, wood-carved handle and a blade that looked like it had been sharpened but unused for a long time.
She stared disbelievingly at it. "Is this... is this, mine?"
Gil nodded.
"You kept my old dagger all this time?"
Again a nod.
She took it gently. A wave of... something washed over her when she held it in her palm again. She smiled sadly. "Can I keep it?"
"It's your knife!" Gilbert laughed incredulously.
"I know it was but, do you trust me with it now?"
He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? Just don't let the others see it for now, okay? And come on, help me drag this deer back to that clearing."
As she proceeded to do so, he added, "Hey, now you won't have to steal my sword anymore, right?"
She laughed nervously, "Sorry for throwing it off the carriage before. Lovina found it jammed under the back wheel... I didn't know it was Sir Frederick's..."
"Eh, a few scrapes only make it look cooler. Like face scars! The ones that go right across your eye! Bad-ass."
She giggled and shook her head. "Please, whatever you do, don't stab yourself in the face in an attempt to leave a scar just because you think it makes you look cooler."
"Come on, Liz, I'm not stupid enough to try that-"
She sighed in relief.
"-twice."
She face-palmed.
They had spent nearly half an hour sitting there in pure silence. Waiting for Francis had been 'boring' after the first 10 minutes; now it was just unbearable!
"I don't think Francis is coming back for a while," Gilbert stated as he sat hunched on a log with his chin resting on his hands.
"You don't think he fell off a cliff or something, do you?"
"Nah, Pierre would be freaking out and pecking at me if something were wrong."
Elizaveta giggled, "I can't believe Pierre's still alive."
"He ain't the only little bird that's still kicking... flapping," Gilbert corrected.
"YOU STILL HAVE GILBIRD?" Elizaveta cried elatedly.
"Kesesese, yup! That awesome little fluff ball can't be killed. However, he is not with me right now. I have someone back at the army looking after him... . Let's just say the little guy isn't very good at stealth missions, so I have to leave him behind."
Again, Eliza let a musical little giggle escape into the air.
Gilbert stared at her, a small, relaxed smile on his face.
"Hey, wanna go for a walk?"
"Uhh, now? But won't Francis-?"
"Bah, Franny won't mind. Come on!"
He took her by the hand and pulled her forward. Even when they settled into a comfortable pace next to each other, he did not let go of her hand.
"Remember when we first found Gilbird?" She broke the silence first.
"I remember that stupid Austrian jerk shooting that falcon we were tracking just to spite us."
"Yeah... right by that old creek, remember? We must have been really young then... couldn't fight back against Roderich or his little posse that always followed him. I hated the kids from the other training camps. ...But I remember... after staring at the slain falcon on the ground... after hearing his laughter-"
"SNOBBISH LAUGHTER!"
"-fade into the distance, we could hear this tiny little peeping noise, and that's when we found the falcon's nest."
"Uh, Liz, I think we concluded that Gilbird wasn't actually the falcon's chick. It's been ten years and he's still a freaking pigmy-bird."
"Stunted growth," she shrugged.
This made Gilbert laugh again and squeeze her hand.
"So that Austrian kid... is now...?"
"He's alive. But he left years ago... not sure where. Sir Frederick's dead. Landmeister's still kickin'."
"My father?"
"...Dead."
She nodded solemnly. A period of silence followed as they walked on.
Then, Gilbert suddenly stopped, forcing Liz to come to a halt as well. He wrapped the girl in a tight embrace and squeezed his eyes shut. "I really missed you, Liz," he whispered softly.
In an unconscious motion, her hands wrapped themselves behind his shoulders and she buried her face in his chest. She allowed her muscles to relax momentarily as he held her, allowed herself to breathe in the familiar scent of pine needles, sweat, and rust... and it reminded her so much of home that it pained her.
"I missed you too," came the sad-toned, muffled reply. They stayed there for a long while, silently lamenting the fact that they were on opposite sides. They each knew that they weren't mad at each other... they weren't really 'enemies', but they each loyally stood for opposing issues that they couldn't go back on.
And each wanted to stay out in the woods, away from everything and everyone, where they could just go back to the way things were ten years ago, when the world was still one big adventure, when the forest was their kingdom... when pain was still just a scrape on the knee.
They eventually loosened their embrace but stayed in each other's arms.
"Hey," Gilbert said abruptly with a sly smirk. "This reminds me. Remember that one time when we were, what, thirteen...?-"
"No!" She immediately broke away from him and started strutting in the opposite direction. She hopped over a log and began descending a small hill.
"Right before the spring festival that year. The day you pushed me out of that tree and nearly broke my leg..."
"NO!" she put her hands over her ears and continued to trot downwards near the little creek bed at the bottom. Gilbert caught up to her and removed her arms from the sides of her head.
"And yoouuuuu, kissed me!" he laughed.
"I did no such thing!" she denied.
"Kesesese! But you did, dear Lizzie! Don't you remember the happiest day of your life?"
"You pretentious little- YOU. KISSED. ME!" she shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Despite herself, she was smiling.
"Oh, but you do admit it was the day all your dreams came-"
SPLAT!
She had scooped up a handful of mud near the creek's edge and hurled it at his face.
Then, she burst into a fit of laughter.
"Oh, you're going to get it now, little girl!" he threatened. He scooped up some mud for himself and returned fire, but she dodged it cleanly.
And so they ran in circles throwing globs of muck at one another and laughing wildly like children for about ten minutes, until Gilbert suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her easily off the ground.
"Put me down!" she gasped between high-pitched laughter.
"You gotta know when to surrender, Liz."
"Fine, fine! I'll stop, I'll stop!" She dropped the ball of mud that was caked into her fist to the ground. Gilbert lowered her gently until she felt her feet once again make contact with the earth, but he remained behind her with his arms securely around her middle and placed a kiss upon her cheek.
Elizaveta did not move. Her giggles had died off and her smile faded. She touched his hand gently with hers, staring off distantly ahead of her. "Still enemies," she whispered softly, and pulled his arms apart.
Then she walked ahead of him, making her way quietly back up the hill. He followed solemnly after her.
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU TWO?!" Francis cried when he laid eyes on the completely muddy, disheveled couple.
"Uhh, we got dinner," Elizaveta replied innocently as she pointed to the wrapped up deer carcass. Gilbert burst out laughing.
"Well did you shoot it or wrestle it?" the Frenchman demanded.
"Oh relax, Franny, we'll clean up back at the fort, okay? Now help me haul this thing."
He did so, but not without adding, "I'm also surprised you untied Elizaveta's bonds... I figured you two would be into that type of kinky-"
"SHUT UP, FRANCIS!" the pair yelled in unison.
"And the ropes are going back on as soon as we reach the fort."
Elizaveta spun on her heel. "What?"
"Enemies~" Gilbert sang.
"Ugh!" Elizaveta clenched her fists at her sides and marched angrily ahead, back to base.
"So what exactly was the purpose in bringing her along, mon ami?"
"Try'n remind her that she's more than just the weak little handmaid she's convinced herself to be. She was a knight once."
They each looked after her. Her long, umber curls bounced low on her back, and her slender figure swayed even while she marched. Pierre had flown off of Francis's shoulder and over to Elizaveta's. Despite her obviously sour mood, she gently rubbed a finger on the little puffball's head.
"If you ask me, she looks more than ever like a princess above all things," Francis noted.