Chapter 1:

Hello, brosephs. New story. And, I know, some of you people are like, "FFF, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU SHOULD BE UPDATING YOUR OTHER STORIES RAGERAGERAGE." WELL. THE TRUTH IS, I'M A LAZY BUTT WITH A SUDDEN BURST OF INSPIRATION. SO DEAL WITH IT. By the way, Princess Gillian is fem!Prussia. Eli is male!Hungary.

King Ludwig of Turtinbeck was, in all simplicity, at his wits' end.

His daughter, Princess Gillian of Turtinbeck, simply refused to be a princess. She dressed like a boy, stuffed her long silver hair up in a cap, slumped in stature, could drink half her weight in beer (she was underage, too!), and blatantly refused her royal duties as a princess.

Needless to say, it was earning their Kingdom a bad reputation. Gillian could care less. In fact, the only people who knew her for who she really could be were her closest friends, the king himself, and her. To everyone else she was Gillian, the rash, loudmouthed, yet feminine-looking bastard who could drink anyone under the table.

Even though she herself would never admit it, she was actually very, very nice to look at. When let down, waist-length silver hair (she could never bring herself to cut it) framed a pretty round face (she never really did outgrow her facial baby fat), big, sparkling red eyes and a slightly cocky grin that could light up anyone's day. She had a fondness for her little pet bird, "Gilbird", and used the word "Awesome" in almost every sentence. She could shoot the head clean off a bird from a mile away, and her spitting distance was nothing to be trifled with. She spent more time than anywhere in the stables, with her friends Antonio and Francis. Gillian alone was trouble. Gillian with them was…bad. Very bad.

Although annoying, the king conceded that it didn't really cause too much trouble. So he'd let his daughter be, for the time being. At least, until she became able to marry—18 years old. That would be a whole different story.

It really was too bad that her eighteenth birthday was next week.

Eli Herdváry was the best huntsman around.

From a mile away, he could see a rabbit, shoot it right in the head, and not move an inch from where he was standing. Oh, yes, he was the finest of the finest. Aristocrats all over the world traveled to the small city of Turtinbeck just to simply watch him hunt. His aim was the best, and he never disappointed.

However, he didn't come cheap.

That was why only Roderich Edelstein, richest man in Turtinbeck, had been the only one he'd ever worked for. He had been the only one able to afford him, and Eli liked him well enough. Good pay, nice house, enough to eat.

So Eli had absolutely no idea why he was running away. Feet pounding into the dirt, sweat beading down his forehead, brown-blond hair sticking to his face. He allowed himself a grim smile as he realized that this was exactly what he had been missing. The rush; the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins—this was good. This was great.

Besides, he'd never really intended to stay forever at the Edelstein house, anyway.

He subconsciously put a hand up to the side of his head, to feel for the flower he always kept tucked in his hair—only to find that it wasn't there.

He skidded to a halt, and only then did he hear the calls behind him.

"Hey! Hey! The awesome me is calling you!"

Eli stopped and turned around, shoulders tense, gun cocked, ready to shoot at anyone. However, who exactly he saw was not quite what he was expecting.

Out from the trees came a slim, slim man, silver hair shoved up into a cap made of cloth upon his head. Red eyes glinted out from a pale complexion, and he wore a loose-fitting tunic and leggings. The man looked rather feminine to Eli, and, had it not been for his gait, he would have completely mistaken for a woman.

Eli set a withering glare upon the man. "What do you want with me?" he demanded.

The man seemed unfazed. "I think you should talk a little more nicely to the awesome one who retrieved your flower for ya." He dug into his pocket (where had that come from?) and produced a pink, pretty—if not slightly smushed—flower.

With a small gasp, Eli swiftly took the flower from his hand, immediately smoothing it out. He tucked it securely back in his hair.

The man was still there.

"Any specific reason you're still here?" Eli questioned, turning back around, his back to the mystery man.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see him shrug. "A thank-you would be nice." Before Eli could answer, he prodded on, "Hey—where are you going to in a rush?"

Eli scowled. This guy was really irritating! "None of your damn business," he growled, and began to walk forward. He heard footsteps follow him.

"Is it someplace exciting?"

"I don't know."

"How will you sleep?"

"I don't care."

"Sounds exciting!" The man's eyes lit up like a little child's. "I'm coming with you!"

"What?" Eli turned around, eyes wide. "Oh, no, you aren't. You'll only get in my way! I don't even know your name!"

"I'd never get in anyone's way!" The man proclaimed arrogantly. "My name's Gil! Nice to meet'cha!"

"Eli," Eli grunted. Oh, well. This guy didn't look too tough. He'd probably lose him on the journey, anyway.

Gillian was having a blast.

Like, a really, really good time.

She couldn't believe how easy it had been to sneak out of the castle! She should've tried this much sooner! Dressing up like a commoner was a piece of cake, and so was tricking someone into letting her tag along with them. Running away from home was going to be a snap, no problem. She only hoped she'd be able to keep her real gender a secret, or else she'd be screwed. She could only imagine the punishments her father was dreaming up for her.

She kept the air full with useless chatter, to hide her own nervousness. Eli was pretty cool, in her terms, if not a little boring. She could grow to like him.

Woot! There ya go. That will probably be a multi-chapter story. Review if you like, review if you hate. ^^