Berwald slowly slips under the cheap covers and Elizaveta press herself harder against the pillow. Normal yet painstakingly unrealistic images of policemen who break through the door, of screams and gunshots being fired. And Berwald whispers “are you all right?” when she gasps and start to sob. The white pillow getting soaked as she tries to be as silent as possible. And thinking they won’t find us here, we’re far away from that town and Roderich can’t reach us didn’t help. It didn’t help and it never had. Berwald wraps his long, pale arms around her and that does help. The warmth of his skin is comforting and Elizaveta push her face against his chest and tries to breathe. She doesn’t want to get caught. Not now. Not by those devils that tried to take her freedom from her and push her in a house to slowly age, bear children, clean and cook food all while smiling and dressing in uncomfortable dresses. But she’s a devil, too. Because she doesn’t even know if she truly loves Berwald or just saw him as a key. A way out. And he did help her. Saving money, severing ties, getting a car and a map plus a route to follow and helping her through the window as they slipped away in the night; he did all that and Elizaveta feels guilty every day for taking his freedom while acquiring her own. But at night she forgets that, gets selfish. She’s scared what they’re going to do to her when they find her, and a part in her mind is thinking what are they going to do with him?
“Don’t leave me.”
Berwald holds her tighter and strokes her hair, mumbling an “of course not” and Elizaveta breathes out. She’s safe. With this man she gets freedom and safety. For now at least.
(There is context for this one. An entire au worth actually.)
Felicity
——————————————
Light from the sun filters through the stained glass, casting multi-coloured shadows on the darkened floors of smooth hall. A pair of footsteps travelled through the deserted corridor, faint clicks tapping on the smoothened and polished stone as they came to a halt next to a great ornate door. The figure knocks the doorknob once before entering, closing the door shut for a privacy she wants to give only to one other person.
The throne room was empty, but this the knight ignores as she walks to the furthest end of the room, pulling apart an ordinary curtain of fabric bearing the kingdom’s crest that hung stark over the uppermost left corner of the wall to expose a hidden stairway. Ascending to the very top, she comes upon a secret room with no door, sights set on the single person looking out of the inconspicuously built balcony. With a graceful flourish she kneels and the man turns, sunlight catching on the decorated gemstones that sat on the crown upon his head.
“Eliza.” There was a patronising glint in the King’s eyes, but with a shake of her head the Knight remained stiff and on ceremony. Younger memories of secret play dates and the countless run-ins with the guards in the gardens spew to the edge of her mind, but she pushed them away in favour of the subject of trouble in her head. His Majesty was her master; the only one she lived to serve the moment she was born, but for an even longer time, he was her best friend, and the weight of a sincere childhood promise had grown heavy from timeless mulling.
Her wants might be selfish, but she would take the chance to see the promise fulfilled. Berwald the King might not understand, but perhaps Berwald her friend and confidant would.
“You once said that you would give me anything I so desire,” she begin quietly, watching the way her King return her stare with a softness that was never present in the company of any of his other subjects. “What if what I solely want is my freedom?”
She regrets the words that leave her mouth immediately when the cerulean in his eyes dimmed, notable confusion and unhappiness flickering over his visage. She does not want to leave his side, but he had to have noticed; for months everything she spoke of was of travels and faraway lands, the wistfulness burning in her eyes as she looked over the horizon. Her whole life was spent following him, now she wanted to follow her own way. That did not mean that she wasn’t conflicted in her actions though. To use their bond as leverage was as awful and guilt-wrecking as she had imagine it to feel, but she could not think of any other way. Even now, a part of her whispers foolish, for what king would allow the loss of his first-in-command and an important asset to the country.
Her anxious wait was interrupted at the rustling of heavy cloth. Larger hands touch and lift her palm up gently before laying a kiss below her knuckle, finding the way she gaped at him with horrified mortification amusing.
“Then I release you from my service,… Lady Héderváry.” There was a sadness within him even as his mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. It befuddled her as she snatched her hand back with spluttering words on the tip of her tongue, for things were not supposed to be this easy.
A king can never do that to his knight.
Why are you letting me go this easily? Don’t I mean something important to you?
"Liz... I'm going into the Survey Corps..." "Okay... Be safe. You'll know where to find me.." SnK!SweHun with short haired Hungary. Ber is going into the Corps and Liz is going into the Garrison. Also blurry phone picture is blurry. :P
I had a fun date with @ask-the-lion-of-the-north or (roma-antiqua-vincit-mundum) We talked and Sweden made a blog and then Sweden stripped off camera and I laughed and answered sad questions. Fun was had by all.
