Hetalia Deaths

Elizaveta Héderváry (Hungary)

Elizaveta was a woman who, after disguising herself as a himself, went to fight in the army. Unfortunately, she was discovered and forced into marriage, which later caused her to commit suicide.
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Autumn, 1480

Mama had been crying a lot as of late. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Elizaveta would wake up and listen to the muffed sobs and quiet tears that mama didn't think she and her little sister could hear through the dark stifling curtain that night brought. Or some days, when she was gently stirring the contents of a pot over the stove, she would discreetly scrub at her cheeks with the palm of her hand, wiping the salty trails away.

Elizaveta could not blame her for not being able to keep the whole affair discreet. Many days, Elizaveta would feel tears welling up when her little sister, Felicia, would ask when papa and their older brother Tibor were going to come home. The honest answer that she could not bare to choke out was that she had not the slightest idea.

They had left early, when the rumors of war were just beginning to spark. She remembered the day they passed through the front doorframe for the final time in god-knows-how-long. Papa had still had that stern, yet gentle smile on his face and Tibor looked ebullient, his veins itching for the adrenaline rush that war brought. Papa had kissed mama's cheek, and pulled she and Felicia into a tight embrace. He had left with the promises of returns rolling off of his tongue, but they had not heard a word since. Not a single drop of ink had made its way to their door, nor a messenger dressed in blue and gold.

Although things were going well for Hungary, the lack of news from the war front in their small village constantly worried Elizaveta. No matter how much they yearned for horses bringing information to come storming through the mountains, it was those mountains that prevented it. The only way they heard anything of the battles was when a soldier came home to either be welcomed with joyous tears or breath his last.

That conundrum had bothered Elizaveta for as long as the war had been persisting. Three years, and they had barely heard a word. Whenever she brought it up around mama, she was always dismissed.

"It's just the way it is. There is no use in complaining about something you cannot change."

However, as she thought about the topic more and more, and her brash courage increased with her age, a nagging solution had been scratching at the back of her mind.

Mama always talked about how much Elizaveta looked like her father, with her long hair and her build and even her nose. She understood that her father was a somewhat feminine-looking man, so it was no surprise when she nearly mimicked his appearance as she became older.

Elizaveta thought that it explained the sourness and regret in her mother's eyes whenever she looked at her.

Yes, she looked so much like her father, aside from her distinctly female aspects. But those could be hidden, couldn't they? If she bound her chest and pulled back her hair, she could become her father. She hoped so, at least.

Slowly, so slowly, that nagging solution had become something far more concrete. If news of the war, if news of their family, did not arrive naturally to their village, Elizaveta would bring it to them.

The one flaw in her hastily executed plan was when on earth to actually make her escape. If she tried to leave at night, her sister sleeping next to her would wake up, and mostly likely cause a fuss. It would be impossible for her to leave during the daylight hours due to mama's vigilant eye. Eventually, she decided that the night would be safer. If she fed her sister a little white lie, she would be able to slip out of the back door, through the steep mountain terrain, and to the nearest army center.