I Do :PrussiaXHungary: (Prize fic)

She looks beautiful today.

The white dress.

The flowers.

The veil.

She is doing it all today.

“Liz, are you all ready to go? The ceremony will be starting in ten minutes!”

She stares at the woman in the mirror with unsure green eyes, cautious fingertips barely touching the glass surface. Yes, she looks beautiful, indeed. Her long, brown hair braided and plaited so lovingly by her best friend, tucked beneath a lace veil, and her face powdered and glossed to what had been exclaimed as “perfection.”

She may look absolutely beautiful, but she hardly feels like it.

“Liz? Liz! Hey, are you in there?”

The voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and Elizabeta turns around with a great, big smile adhered so carefully across her lips. Her eyes meet the concerned gaze of Bella--green versus green--and her best friend gives her a worried frown.

“Liz...you didn’t answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeta apologizes quickly, giving the dark blonde woman another smile and adjusting the veil so that it covered her face. Perhaps with the slightly see-through fabric, Bella would not be able to see the apprehension in Liz’s eyes. “I was spacing off, I suppose. Thinking. Is it really only...ten minutes?”

Bella nods, placing her hand on Liz’s shoulder and giving her a comforting squeeze before looking in the mirror and grinning widely. “And you look absolutely stunning, Elizabeta! Just look at yourself. You look like an angel. You look perfect. Roderich is going to faint at the altar when he takes one look at you--I promise!”

A weak laugh manages to escape Elizabeta’s lips as she glances yet again at the unfamiliar woman in the mirror. That woman looks almost...fake. She does not look like the real Elizabeta Herdervary. The blush in her cheeks is too perfect; the coral hue of her mouth is obviously painted on; the virginal white dress that seems to consist of nothing but lace and sequins makes her look somewhat like a mannequin whose form does not quite go with the costume.

“Yes...I suppose I do look lovely, don’t I?”

Bella frowns again, this time even deeper than before. “...you’re worrying me, Liz. You were so excited about your wedding a day ago--I understand if you’re nervous, but...you seem almost like you are...”

She does not finish the sentence, but Liz knows exactly what was on her tongue.

Distraught.

Elizabeta shrugs nonchalantly, brushing a stray strand of perfumed hair away from her veil so her view is not obstructed even more. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I think this is just the way I’m dealing with the nerves.”

Bella opens her mouth to respond, but the sonorous notes of a piano immediately cuts her off. Liz feels a sense of dread rush through her veins like the opposite of adrenaline, yet she maintains her composure and merely smiles reassuringly at her best friend. “I’ll be fine, Bella. I’m getting married to Roderich, remember? I’m going to be Mrs. Edelstein, now. I’ll be fine.”

“...if you say so,” Bella murmurs quietly, her tone suggesting that she is not entirely convinced. She gives Elizabeta a tight embrace, however, and adjusts the tangerine-hued petals that are tucked into her braids, before giving her one last look and slipping out of the dressing room door. The piano is playing in earnest now, and Liz knows that it is time.

Her wedding to Roderich Edelstein is beginning.

Time seems to halt, like the grains of sand in an hourglass completely freezing in mid air, as she finds herself stepping out of the dressing room and into the church doors. The world is in slow motion as so many pairs of eyes lock on her as her fingers tighten around the bouquet in her hands, throat closing up and feet threatening to stumble along the thick carpeting all the way to the altar. Her fiance is there at the altar, waiting for her with a pleased smile. His brown hair is smoothed back as always--except, of course, that stubborn curl of his--and he is dressed in an aristocratic cerulean suit. Roderich looks as if he had stepped out of the pages of a dictionary, the image for the word “nobility.”

From all around, the voices murmur in awe and admiration as she continues her strenuous trek to the altar. “She’s gorgeous,” they say. “Absolutely lovely. Beautiful. Exquisite. Roderich is so lucky to marry her.”

The words send a flame of repugnance throughout her mind, and she resists the urge to scream aloud.

Stop calling me beautiful when all of this is just because I was dressed up like a doll!

For a moment, the violet eyes framed by spectacles of her husband-to-be flash the vivid crimson of a freshly bloomed rose, and Elizabeta halts in her tracks for only a mere second.

In an instant, Elizabeta knows why she is dreading the day that is supposed to be the best day of her entire life.

It is because of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Her mind churns with memories as she takes her place beside her fiance, not even comprehending whatever the priest is saying incessantly as Roderich grasps her hand tightly--it feels more like bear trap clasping around her flesh. The memories build up more and more and more until she can no longer take it, and she forces herself to relive them as the priest drones on, just to pass the time.

They are merely voices of the past, for she refuses to remember the faces and images that went with them.

“Gilbert, I need to tell you something...”

“Heh, what is it? That I’m awesome and sexy and you’re finally agreeing to a date with me because you broke up with that prude?”

“...Roderich and I are now engaged, Gilbert.”

“...was?”

For a moment, the pale, handsome face flashes before her eyes--a face of heartbreak and disbelief that quickly turns into anger, crimson eyes flashing like fiery rubies.

“Why the hell did you say yes?! He’s an arschloch, Elizabeta! He’s not right for you! All he does is play the piano and bake disgusting cake and act like he’s better than everyone else! You’re too good for him, Liz--you’re the exact opposite! If you marry him, you’ll end up as just what you’ve always hated...a girly housewife! Is that what you want?!”

“I love him, Gilbert.”

“Und why is that?! You should love me! Because I...because we...dammit, why do you love that son of a bitch over me?”

“Because unlike you, Gilbert, Roderich treats me with respect. Something you never did.”

“That’s because you never wanted me to go soft on you, remember?! You always said you never wanted me to treat you like some wimpy girl...so that’s what I did! It was respect, Liz! It was...the way I respected you...”

Again, his face flashes in her mind unbidden.

Silvery hair falling just short of those blood red eyes now filled to the brim with regret, and pale face straining to remain as calm as he could. The desperate, haunted look that crosses over like a storm cloud; a tempest that gains yet more chaos with her next words.

“If you aren’t happy for me, Gilbert, then don’t come to the wedding. I’m sorry. This is my choice. You were always my best friend--you know that. So please...don’t make this harder than it already has to be. Just be happy for me, Gilbert...”

“And how the fuck can I be happy for you when it’s so damn obvious that you’re not even happy for yourself?”

The words had been like salted blades driving straight into her heart. Those blades had sunk even deeper when he had pushed her aside and hadn’t looked back as he had walked away from her--not even once.

“Do you, Roderich Edelstein, take Elizabeta Herdervary to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

The priest’s voice coupled with the way Roderich’s fingers tighten around hers shakes Elizabeta out of her reverie--and just in time, as it seems that she has been daydreaming until the moment where the vows are to be said. Her chest is tight and her heart feels as if it will just burst out of her ribcage and fall to the floor. Her eyes are watering, her hands are clammy, and it is all she can do to remain standing by Roderich’s side and act as if the inner turmoil inside her is not taking place.

Roderich smiles down at her, a smile full of approval and compassion...yet, there is not a single hint of passion residing in those violet orbs. His gaze seems almost like what he is doing is merely his duty. As if marrying her is nothing but a task to be done, and one he shall do with precision.

In that moment, Elizabeta realizes that Roderich is treating her as if she is nothing but a sonata or concerto he would play on his beloved, all-important piano.

“I do,” Roderich is saying in a compliant manner, nodding to the priest for him to continue.

The priest turns to Elizabeta now, and she is certain that she is about to faint.

Gilbert...I think I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. You...you were right. And I’m sorry.

What she wouldn’t give to see his face amongst the crowd in the pews of that church.

“And do you, Elizabeta Herdervary, take Roderich Edelstein to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

All eyes focus on her.

Roderich gazes at her expectantly.

Yet the words are stuck in her throat, and all Elizabeta can do is stare out at the crowd sitting before her and pray desperately for the power to turn back time to the day where Roderich pulled out the box and the ring inside it so she could have said the correct answer.

“No.”

She does not love Roderich Edelstein.

She loves Gilbert Beilschmidt. For he was her imperfect, arrogant, childish, superficial best friend who had always treated her the way she had desired--as an equal, and not as a girl who cared more for dresses and makeup than the martial arts and swordplay she had worked so hard to master and had given up simply to be what Roderich had wanted.

Elizabeta loves Gilbert, and now she is regrets with all her heart having ever made him walk away that day, because he was the only one who ever made her feel truly beautiful without having to pretend.

“Elizabeta,” Roderich is hissing out in earnest, nudging her side. “You must answer, dear. Say ‘I do,’ remember? It isn’t very difficult!”

“...I...I...I...”

The words are still stuck in her throat.

“She doesn’t, you unawesome prude!”

Elizabeta knows that voice anywhere.

The doors are shoved wide open, and in struts the person she had wanted to see so desperately, yet was certain he was going to keep away. His eyes are reflecting the smirk he is currently wearing, and his arms flex as his silver hair glistens in the lights from above. Roderich gapes in pure shock as the man makes his way right up to the altar and grabs Liz’s hand from his own, the smirk widening even more.

“G-G...Gilbert...?” she whispers shakily, not able to believe her eyes.

He came...he really came...

“In fact, she never wanted to in the first place,” Gilbert sneers as he tugs her away from Roderich slightly. “Elizabeta is just too awesome to let people down! But, since I’m the one who knows her much better than you, dumbass, I’ll be taking her off your hands and ending this wedding immediately. By the way, I don’t know how, but there’s now a big hole in your car’s window!”

With those words, before Elizabeta can speak or move or do a single thing, Gilbert is scooping her into his arms--dress and all--and sprinting down the aisle of the church as those in the pews merely gape in stupefaction and Roderich looks as if he is going to wrap piano wire around someone’s neck and choke them.

Yet, as Gilbert races out of the church and outside into the parking lot, not a single person chases after them.

He merely continues to run without a care, his arms embracing her tightly and a victorious grin on his devious face. He races past Roderich’s car--which is indeed plagued with a mysteriously broken-in dashboard window, and a hammer resides on the glass-covered ground next to it--and finally to an old truck she knows so well, before yanking open the door and hefting her into the passenger’s side. Before Liz knows it, Gilbert is pulling the truck out of the parking lot and speeding down the road without a care.

Time fast forwards like a falling star, and suddenly the two are parked next to the old warehouse in which they used to spar with one another. Not a single person is around, and the silence of the day is permeated only by the breathing of each other.

At last, Elizabeta finds the air to speak.

“...You came.”

Gilbert grins even wider, nodding. “Of course I came! I had to rescue you from that prissy pianist! Und after all, I owed it to my best friend to show up at her wedding...despite the fact we fought.”

Suddenly his face deflates, and he stares down at his hands as if he has murdered someone.

“...I’m sorry, Liz. I’m sorry I got so angry when you told me about the engagement. I just...couldn’t believe that you were going to lose yourself for some uptight, pompous arschloch. I wanted you to...I wanted you to...”

For the first time today, Elizabeta manages to smile.

A real, true smile that doesn’t hurt her face.

Raising one hand, she gently cups Gilbert’s cheek and tugs him forward while simultaneously yanking the obstructive veil from her face and tossing it aside.

“You know what, Gilbert? You were right. Absolutely correct. I was fooling myself. Roderich would have smothered ‘Liz’ and made me into an ‘Elizabeta’ I wouldn’t have recognized. So I forgive you for getting angry. The question is...will you forgive me for being such a goddamn idiot?”

Gilbert’s eyes are no longer ruby fires full of rage and contempt.

They are placid petals of a rose, and his smile is the sun that brings the light to their gorgeous hues.

“...ja, liebe. I will always forgive you. Because it’s a critical trait for awesome people like me to do so.”

Their lips connect like a star falling to the earth; with a harsh, demanding force that had been building up for the last twenty years. Their fingers entwine with one another’s as Gilbert yanks Elizabeta closer to him, tongue pushing past her lips and overtaking hers in a brutal yet passionate display of dominance. Their breathing accelerates as the two devour one another almost desperately, hands roaming over every inch of their bodies and mouths sparring against one another as their tongues play the role of rapiers. Before either of them know it, they are sprawled out in the back seat of the truck; Gilbert on top of Elizabeta and her insufferably countering wedding dress torn off and tossed aside, her slip doing enough of a job covering up the rest of her body.

At last, they pull away, panting and cheeks tinged bright scarlet with the exertion of the fleshy dispute to have just taken place.

Elizabeta gazes up at Gilbert with soft, emerald eyes, running her fingers through his short and silvery hair with a dazed smile. “Thank you, Gilbert,” she murmurs softly as he nuzzles her neck in affection, placing gentle kisses along the tender skin. “Thank you for rescuing me...thank you for always making me feel beautiful the way I needed to. Thank you for being my Gilbert.”

“You’re welcome, mein liebe,” he replies in a deep, husky tone as he pulls away to gaze at her, his usual arrogance replaced by nothing short of pure adoring. “So does this mean that you und I are now...together?”

“Yes it does, Gilbert,” Liz can’t help but laugh a bit, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “I do believe it does.”

“Gut!” Gilbert looks quite pleased with himself, and he can’t keep away the smirk from stretching across his lips. “I believe that also means you’re in love with me...right~? You love me, Elizabeta Herdervary~”

Elizabeta’s smile could have lit a thousand lamps and still had enough brightness to shine all by itself.

“I do, Gilbert. I love you more than I could have ever known. I do.”

She finally says “I do” at last.

This time, however, it is to the person she had been meaning to say it to all along.