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:

43.) Do not break your promises.

44.) Hold her; do not let her go.

Moonlit Knight

Gilbert paced through the darkening halls of the fortress, opening door after door, finecombing even the most sequestered passageways and inlets... all without a trace of luck.

It seemed that fate had once again forsaken our knight with the harrowing red eyes, for no matter how hard he searched he could not find the stray maiden anywhere.

He even called out her name once - hoping beyond hope that her voice would echo back - but, as he suspected, no answer recompensed him. The only sound was the chilling silence that rang eternally through the walls of the old citadel.

After nearly a quarter of an hour of fruitless searching, Gilbert turned a corner and came to an old, heavy, wood-iron door; the very same door he had paused by on the first day inside the abandoned fortress.

He pressed his rough palm against the weathered boards and pushed it open with an audible creak.

Ducking his head in quickly, he swiftly scanned the space around him. He would have retreated back out again if his eye had not caught a distinct shadow in the corner.

Sure enough, there sat Elizaveta Héderváry, arms wrapped around her knees which were tucked in to her chest, head bent out of view. Her back shook with silent sobs.

Gilbert entered the room and closed the door behind him, bathing them both in darkness save for the narrow beam of moonlight spilling in from the window. He quietly approached his old partner and sat down beside her.

"Hey, hey... what's with the waterworks, kid?" he tried.

She made no answer. She did not even look up.

He slowly enfolded her in his arms, gingerly moving her closer as if she were some fragile bird with a broken wing. Then he gently adjusted her so that she was half kneeling on his lap.

The grizzly knight leaned his forehead against her shoulder meekly. "Liz... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated in a husky whisper.

Elizaveta slowly shook her head. "Don't. Don't be," she sniffed. "It's not your fault, Gilbert... It's mine." Her voice cracked on the last two words but she continued. "It's always been mine. It was my decision to be reckless. I mean, I knew from the start that I could never actually be a knight. I put other people in a position that-"

He hushed her before she could carry on any further. "No, no, Liz, none of this is your fault," he contradicted tranquilly. His tone was almost dismissive.

She instantly pulled away from him with a look of consternation. Her large eyes, filled with desperation and a whirlwind of other emotions, looked directly into his scarlet irises. "LOOK WHERE WE ALL ENDED UP!" she shrilled. She clutched a piece of her tattered skirt and held it up as if to emphasize her next words. "Look at me! Look at you! Don't you get it? None of us would be here, trapped in these wretched situations if it weren't for me." She waited for a response, but all Gilbert did was close his eyes and shake his head in disagreement, repeating the word 'no' several times over.

Her eyes hardened and she looked at him scrutinizingly. "And why are you even here? Here in this room, trying to comfort me? How can you even stand to look at me after the hell I've put you through?!"

For a moment, he was silent, unsure of just how to answer. He was uncertain of just how to console this broken, emotionally-disheveled girl before him. How could he possibly explain everything she meant to him?

Gilbert sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind him. He was angry at himself for what he'd said at dinner, for everything he'd done, for not realizing it all sooner. For five long years, Elizaveta had thought he was dead, had blamed herself, had given up all her dignity and vigor and suffered this life of servitude because she sincerely believed she deserved it.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, thinking hard. All that she had gone through, all that he had gone through, it simply wasn't fair. It was a cruel fate.

And by some twisted miracle, fate had brought them back together, only to drop a stone wall in between them yet again.

What bothered Gilbert most, however, was that even now, she acted so meek on the outside. She wore this facade of someone so subservient and weak when clearly - because he could see it flash in her eyes - she was anything but that.

She was smart and strong, defiant and brave, graceful and kind. To him, she was beautiful beyond anything that could be conveyed through words.

She brought light to his darkness. Deep down, she was still his Lizzie.

"Because you're you," he stated simply.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a long moment before shaking her head. "I don't understand. What do you mean I'm me? What kind of explanation is that? Quit avoiding the question and just tell me. Why do you even bother with me?"

He bent his head and touched the side of his fist to his forehead in frustration. "Dammit, Elizaveta, sometimes you are just so... so blind!"

The sorrow and regret she was feeling then was immeasurable, but she still could not prevent her rage from flaring up at his insult. "What?!" she demanded indignantly.

"You heard me! Blind! Ignorant! Oblivious!" he shot back. "For once in your life just listen to me, because if you get anything through that thick, Hungarian head of yours, it needs to be this: You're you. My best friend. You're the kid who ran around saving baby birds with me when we were little, the kid who fell from the top of a pine tree and dislocated her shoulder but never cried, the kid who got whipped with a tree branch for telling the priest Eve was right for taking the Apple! ...You're the one who convinced me that I mattered and gave me the strength to keep going because you have this God-given ability to see things differently and to challenge injustice...

And no matter where you go, Liz - no matter how many years go by or how you try to hide it - you're always going to be that same, extraordinary person. I see it. All of it - all of your grace and cleverness and loyalty... It's just you, Elizaveta...

So you can't- you can't apologize for who you are. Understand? I'm sorry for lying to you all those years ago. I'm sorry that stupid tournament had to happen. I'm sorry for the pain you went through afterwards and I'm sorry you thought... that you still think... that everything that's happened to us is solely on your shoulders," he paused. "But I'm not sorry that I cut your hair when we were seven... I'm not sorry that I met you and I'm certainly not sorry for everything we did together.

How we ended up here... it's just..." How could he explain such cruel fate? "It's like we were just... thrown into a not-so-happy fairytale."

The more he spoke, the more she struggled to control the hot tears once again slipping down her cheeks. When he finished, her lips were silent and she simply buried her face against his chest, not knowing what else to do.

Uh-oh. Had his speech made things worse? Did she not believe him? Was she even more upset now? Dammit, he never was good with words. Talking things out was for people without swords. It was so much easier to just stab your problems awa-

"I missed you," she whispered through her tears. It was muffled through the cloth against her face.

Gilbert was broken out of his perturbed thoughts by the sound of her voice. And once he realized that he had somewhat succeeded in comforting her, he held her even tighter. The knight pressed his face to the handmaid's hair and wrapped his arms around her back, as if he feared she might slip away from him again.

"God, I love you."

The sentiment slipped involuntarily off his lips. He breathed the words so softly into her hair that she was sure she wasn't supposed to hear them. But his face was so close to her ear that it was impossible for her not to. Her body stiffened in his arms.

She did not react. She sat there, completely still, leaning against Gilbert's chest, head tucked in the curve of his neck. Speechless. Her eyes opened wide. She was barely able to breathe, although whether it was due to the effect of his words or the force of his arms constricting her, was difficult to tell.

He couldn't see her face, however, and her lack of reaction made him nervous. He relaxed his hold on her a little and spoke quickly as if to cover his mistake.

"I mean, I know I kind of just waltzed back into your life, and I don't know about your situation as a maid and maybe you've got a new life and you've moved on but I just wanted you to know that you shouldn't go to sleep at night thinking you have anything to regret because-"

He was silenced by her soft giggles.

"WHAT?!" he demanded. His tone sounded indignant, embarrassed almost. It certainly didn't do justice to his over-inflated ego.

But the laughter was not mocking. It was more a laugh of... disbelief.

She lifted her head and searched his face. "I love you too," she whispered with damp, smiling eyes.

Without thinking about the action, Gilbert's hand lifted to cup the side of her face and he stroked his thumb across her cheek. He wanted only to dry her tears, to tell her that everything would be alright, to hear her say it too, but the right words didn't seem to exist. He chose instead to simply lose himself in the verdant green depths before him.

Then he felt it. Felt slow, hesitant lips press softly against his.

For a brief instant, his brain ceased to work, because this was not just a light pet or peck or stolen glance - this was different. Time seemed to stand still while he lingered in a state of shock, struggling to process what she was doing. It did not take long for him to respond, however, and he began kissing her back - the way he had wanted to since the first night in the fortress, with all the sincerity and tenderness he could muster. Over and over again.

Then time could not pass slowly enough.

He pressed his palm against her lower back and brought her torso close. She removed her hands from where they rested against his chest. Her arms curled around his shoulders. Her fingers lightly tickled the back of his neck.

The waves of ecstasy that washed over him upon hearing her say those three little words was indescribable. It was hope and sweet relief, knowing that this warmth was his to hold and to protect and to bask in, because Elizaveta Héderváry was in love with him just as much as he was with her.

She had kissed him, and it was passionate and unexpected and intoxicating; exactly the kind of move his Lizzie would make.

"Don't leave me again," she whispered breathlessly after she eventually broke away. "Please, Gilbert. Promise me." Her words became almost too soft to hear. She rested the side of her head against his shoulder.

He held her fiercely and felt her soft hair tangle between his fingers. "Leave you? Now, Liz, what kind of knight would that make me?"

She laughed as another tear slipped down. "Oh, so now you're back on the 'chivalry' gig and rescuing the damsel in distress?" she teased, sensing his attempt to brighten the mood. "Sounds kinda funny coming from the guy who left choke bruises on my neck."

"I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. Then, a coy smile grew on his face. "I promise that if I leave any more marks on you, they'll be for an entirely different reason."

With that, he bent down and gently kissed her on the side of her neck. She pulled away and half-heartedly smacked him with the back of her hand.

"Ow! What I meant before was what kind of knight abandons his comrade?"

This made her grin once more and she squeezed him tighter. However, after a moment, her smile faded into a look of worry. "But don't take me away... please."

Gilbert closed his eyes and released a long, tired breath. One thing was clear, and he had to come to terms with it right now: Elizaveta was not going to run away again... and he understood why, he supposed. He understood that she couldn't abandon someone who she'd promised to protect. Not again. Not Lovina. She couldn't abandon her duties or her friend. Elizaveta loved Gilbert with all her heart, but he could not ask her to do this.

In turn, Lovina was not going to willingly abandon her kingdom. Neither girl was willing - neither could afford - to budge, which meant Gilbert and his friends would have to adjust.

"We'll figure something out, I promise."

"Together?"

"Together."

She parted from their embrace and they fell into a mollified silence. The pair sat, leaning against each other with the moonlight spilling in from the window, sitting upon the floor with their backs to the wall. Her head was tilted against his shoulder, her fingers entwined in his.

They knew not what else to say, and perhaps nothing more needed to be said, for even though it seemed as though the world was crashing down around them, for the first time in years, they were okay again.