((AN: Edited the first chapter. I have this headcanon that countries use their real names only with those they trust, really like, or just feel close to. Most countries know each other's human names, but refer to them as their country name to be formal, or because they don't feel like they are close enough to be called anything else. Next chapter will be coming soon!))
"Romania!" Elizaveta emphasized the vowels in a shrill voice as she snapped her fingers.
She arched her back against her chair at the end of her long table in her dining room, and waited a little while before calling again.
"Romania!" Elizaveta let out the command in a short, loud burst.
When the second call escaped her lips, a small jingling sound was heard and a medium sized, fluffy, brown dog with pointed ears walked through the doorway; their little paws patting the floor. The dog's small pants were barely audible – tongue hanging out and a small smile on their face. The dog, after making their way across the wooden-floored room, plopped down next to their master and looked up at them attentively.
"Good dog," Hungary ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "You know, sometimes I regret naming you after that stupid man. It really is a shameful name. Oh well; you're a pleasant dog, and you come most of the time when I call you. As a reward, you can have this."
Hungary moved the scraps of her recently devoured steak to the center of her plate, and then she placed it in front of the dog. The dog, with their tail thumping against the ground, happily licked up the leftover meat. Hungary grinned and stroked the fur on the dog's back. This Romania definitely had potential, and maybe it could even join the other dogs, also named Romania, for guard duty. Exhaling with a subtle grunt, Hungary screeched her chair along the floor, stood up, and clicked off down the hallway in her boots.
"That Romania has been awfully quite lately…he's planning something - I know it!" she murmured while she strolled down the hall. "If he's planning an invasion then I'll hand him his ass on a silver platter. He should know better than that…"
Her soft clicks turned into stomps of rage as she whipped open the door to her study. She swiveled her leather desk chair and sat herself down so quickly and with so much force that chair legs threatened to snap by emitting a weak creak. She let out a slow breath to calm herself, and put her palms to her face as she hunched over her desk. She didn't need another war. She didn't want another war. It was true Romania and she weren't on the greatest of terms, but she was too exhausted and busy with other things; she didn't have time to fight with him, and she certainly hoped he felt the same.
Pulling her hands away from her tired eyes, she leaned back in her chair. She had so much paperwork to do. Her olivine irises moved along her wooden desk, glancing at all the familiar stacks of sorted documents. Bills, government papers, national issues, complaints – things that she didn't feel compelled to browse over at that exact moment. Then, she caught something over of the corner of her eye; something that hadn't been there before. Elizaveta turned her chair to the unfamiliar object, which turned out to be a letter of some sort. The country leaned forward as she eyed an envelope on her desk.
"No label…" the Hungarian commented, flipping the envelope from front to back.
Reaching forward, she snatched her envelope opener from a jar of miscellaneous pencils and pens on the end of her desk. The opener tore through the paper as if it was air, and Elizaveta pulled out a very neatly written letter. Upon further inspection, the Hungarian realized that the word position was nearly perfect – not dipping too low or soaring too high – just straight across the paper. But, the letters that those words contained were obviously hastily written (either that or the sender couldn't see what they were writing). Her eyes scanned the letters sloppily spilled onto the parchment, and she gritted her teeth.
'Dearest Hungary—
I regret to inform you that one of your many beasts has "accidentally" (really, how stupid to you think I am) wandered into my space. I have taken them into my custody, since well, they are on my property now. You should find their collar returned to you sometime in the near future, because the name you gave them certainly doesn't fit, and I have no desire to give you the pleasure of naming it. "Romania" is such a fine name, but for a dog I really think that "Hungary" is a better name. I like dogs, so I'll treat them well. If any more of your dogs come over, I'll be sure to keep them. You're really funny with your little attacks; it's almost cute. They're only benefiting me, after all.
Thanks for the dog!
-Romania'
Thrusting the letter aside, she smashed her head into her palms and let out an agitated, muffled yell. Her boot thumped once, hard, against the inside of her desk. Brushing back her hair, she sat up, her face red from looking down. She tucked some strands of stray hair behind her ears and she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. Her eyes were fixated on the abandoned letter to her left; she wanted to burn it with her eyes. Some of the words were skimmed over again, and her anger built. She snatched up the letter, along with a leather satchel, and briskly walked to the kitchen. She kidnapped a frying pan from a drawer, slammed the drawer shut, and made her way to her door. She almost opened the door, but then she stopped and pivoted around to view her foyer.
Turning to the umbrella holder, she spread apart the bouquet of umbrellas and pulled out a rifle. Slinging the gun over her shoulder, she opened her front door, locked it behind her, and began her journey into the woods.
His room was dark, but he didn't mind it. In fact, the darkness seemed like a friend to him, but he wasn't a vampire like his folklores told of. Yeah, some people considered him creepy, but these were also people who hadn't bothered to have a lengthy conversation with him. Picking at his fang, he remembered the day Hungary punched him in the mouth.
"Stupid bitch," Vladimir spat, and the feeling of his bleeding teeth came back to him and caused him to shiver.
It had all happened suddenly, and he admitted to himself that it was partially his fault. He had boasted about the Count and his whole family to everyone, since, of course, it was a great tale! Hungary and he had gotten into a fight about it, because he kept pestering her. How was he supposed to know what harm he was doing? Well, she did ask him to stop…but he couldn't not boast about it. Along with that, he had pulled her hair a couple of times to aggravate her. To this day, he still remembered her words:
'If you like this Dracula guy so much, then why don't I make you the spitting image of him?'
That was right before he got pummeled in the face.
"I'm surprised she didn't do anything worse than chip my tooth," he chuckled, outlining his jaw line with his finger.
His eyes glossed over as he stared at his ceiling, remembering the past. The hand he had hanging off the side of his bed was met with a cold nose. Jerking his hand back, he propped himself up on his elbows to see what was at his bedside.
"Oh, that's right," Vladimir chuckled again, looking down at a dog. "Hello there. I almost forgot that I confiscated you from Hungary."
Yawning, the Romanian planted his feet on the floor, and the dog, newly named 'Hungary', wagged their tail joyfully.
"I shouldn't have stayed up writing that letter," Vladimir said, stretching his arms up over his head and letting a yawn tumble from his mouth. "I wonder if she got it yet."
After lifting himself from his bed, Vladimir dressed himself with a white, button-up dress shirt, black tie, and black pants. Shortly after doing this, the Romanian snatched up a blood-red coat that almost went to his knees from off a hook on the back of the door. He buttoned up the coat, did the belt on it, and pulled at it from various angles to make sure it was comfortable. When he was satisfied, Vladimir seized a small hat with ribbons and his black military boots. The hat was placed onto his strawberry-blond head, and he tied up the boots. When the dressing process was finished, Vladimir opened his bedroom door, and sunlight poured into the room.
"Geez…I've gotta learn not to sleep past noon." he grumbled while squinting his ruby colored eyes.
The dog dashed out from behind the country and sprinted down the hall, eager to find something to chew. Vladimir tisked, but then smiled. He followed the canine, pausing every once in awhile to look out some of his huge windows. When the Romanian stopped for longer than a couple of seconds to gaze out one of the panes of glass, the dog doubled back to retrieve his attention again. The day was beautiful - lots of sunlight and only a few clouds drifted by. Disregarding the numerous holes dug last night in his yard by the dog, everything seemed to be in top shape.
"At least you were gracious enough to leave the tulips," the Romanian commented.
The dog tilted their head and let their tongue flop out. When Vladimir crouched down to pat them on the head, the dog sprinted down the hallway again, skidded to a stop in front of a door, and waited patiently.
"Is this some kind of game Hungary taught you?" Vladimir scoffed, approaching the dog. "Or did she not discipline you very well? It could be either, since she does lack in quite a few things…"
The dog lit up when Vladimir finally reached them, and put their paws up on the door. Shooing them down, the Romanian turned the handle. The dog trotted in and plopped down in the middle of the floor. With ears and snout pointed to the country, they fell silent. Vladimir soon entered the room, the kitchen after the dog, and gazed down at it. At first, he was confused, but then he let out an "Oh!" and nodded to the dog.
"I guess you want food. I haven't had a dog – or even a pet – in a while. Let's see what I have," the country pulled the door of the fridge to examine its contents. "Huh…"
The immortal's eyes moved quickly from one container in the fridge to the next. He had plenty of food, but what would be healthy for a dog? What would suffice until he could go out and buy some dog food? Jars clinked together as the Romanian shoved them to one side of the fridge. He tried to peer behind them in case if there was something good to be found.
"Well, you can't have carrots, pickles, or blueberries. I don't think bread would be a very good option either…uh," he cranked his head back to the dog and then returned his attention to the fridge. "Cheese won't do, and neither will celery…"
Vladimir moved his search to the next shelf of the fridge. More jars, some ketchup…"Wait, what's this?"
Vladimir fished out a container full of hamburger patties. Would this do? It was meat, and dogs were carnivores. The Romanian peered back at the canine curiously, and then popped the lid. Upon cracking the lid, the dog seemed to smile and perk up. Setting the container down, the country stepped back to give the dog room. The dog sniffed at the patty, licked it one, twice with their tongue, and then quickly devoured the meat. When Vladimir crouched down the retrieve the container, only a few, tiny specs of meat were left. He smiled at the dog and then placed the container into the sink.
"Glad I could find you something. I'm going to have to get some dog food soon. Well, unless Hungary decides to pick you up," Vladimir rolled his eyes. "Eh, even if she does come by I won't give you up. She has enough dogs already."
Vladimir sat criss-crossed on the tiled floor next to his new companion and stroked the light fur on the dog's back. The dog sniffed at the country's arm, and then laid their head onto Vladimir's knee. Their tail thumbed against the floor happily.
"Yeah, I think you should stay with me," Vladimir stated, grinning.