AN: Can anyone guess who 'Damir Popa' is (before the story reveal)?
Deception
Step One for Wooing the Idiot American
"This is the absolute last time."
England slammed open the door of his study, apologising profusely to the agitated fairy he had dislodged from the bookshelf. He allowed her to sit on his shoulder while he rifled through the grimoires that lined the shelves. There had to be a spell to put that Spanish prick in his place.
The Spaniard took his masculinity seriously, so England knew that he wanted to take that away from him, at least temporarily. "Hêafodcwide ðancful forðý cynd ed−wenden!" England commanded, his eyes glowing green as he waved his hand at the bookshelf.
A book flew off the shelf and landed neatly on the podium in the middle of the room. It quickly flipped through the pages before stopping with a final *snap!* of a page.
An Olde English spell and description graced the page, along with a drawing of a figure transforming. The picture was a bit more gruesome than England would have expected, the cursed's skin looking as if it were being burnt off and a look of agony on the figure's face. Arthur felt bad. Well almost.
"Gíemen hwæðre mîn word−cwide. Medemian rædungbéc êower must fricgan. Gyfylness ðæt nêadðearfnes hwæt bringan, tîma wîf êower must bêon—"
"Hey, Iggy! I've been looking all over for you. Can you believe that Commie Bastard Russia is such a prick!"
England was so flustered by his son's sudden appearance that he repeated, "Russia?" finishing the spell and sending it off to its unintended victim. He stared down in disbelief before looking up at Alfred, eyes blazing. "America, you flaming idiot! How many times have I told you not to disturb me when I was in here "
"Sorry, Dad." America smiled at him, not looking the least bit sorry.
o0o
Step One for Wooing the Idiot American: Draw on his heroics, have him save the 'Damsel in Distress'
Alfred sat in the corner of the bar, back against the mirrored wall, arms crossed over his chest as he studied the clubbers around him through flashing strobe lights and the vibrating beats courtesy of the DJ. He tended to spend his evenings at bars and clubs where high incidences of rape and druggings occurred. If he were going to be alone because everyone else was busy, he would help to protect his citizens.
He blinked violently as a woman with long ash-blonde hair and a tight red halter dress stepped in front of him to lean on the bar. She had thrown her hair over her shoulder, accidentally slapping him in the face with the silky strands. "Excuse me, may I have a refill?" Her voice had a foreign tinge to it, soft and melodic, her tongue lightly rolling over the 'r' in refill. He watched her curiously, blushing when she turned to him. Alfred's breath caught in his throat as she maintained eye contact for several seconds before smiling and turning back to the bartender.
The woman took a seat, pulling herself up onto the stool, crossing her long legs, and pulling the hem of her dress down towards her knees. Alfred couldn't help his eyes being drawn down as she rubbed them together while changing positions, her black high heel shoe falling off her foot to dangle on a toe. She seemed to be there alone, a rather bold move as women tended to pair off, both for safety in the numbers and so that losers wouldn't bother them all night.
Alfred took a shuddering breath and threw back his pint, motioning for the bartender to refill his drink. He forced his eyes away from her and to the other clubbers. He kept a particular eye on the glasses on the bar, their owners' backs turned away, not keeping a vigilant eye.
"This one's on me." Alfred looked up and snorted. A man with chin-length hair had approached the woman.
Alfred narrowed his eyes, looking him over. The man looked familiar to him, but Alfred couldn't determine why. Alfred ran through a mental checklist— chin-length strawberry blond hair, of average height and build, red eyes, handsome— but nothing was coming up. He frowned, the back of his brain tingling, knowing that he was forgetting something. Alfred knew this man from somewhere. He shook his head and reached over for his beer, taking a deep drink from it.
She had turned, evident surprise on her face while she scrutinised every bit of the man before smiling demurely, "Thank you."
"No problem. It looked like you could use another round," the man said with a smile.
The woman laughed, hiding it behind a manicured hand. "Is it that obvious?"
He shrugged, "I doubt many have noticed. But I also came alone."
Alfred closed his eyes and concentrated on the two people in front of them. He tried to feel if there were any other nations close by, to narrow down who it might be. But the only ones were his brother and Prussia, at the border of Canada and New York. He had some vague clue that at least one or two other nations along the east coast were where he was, but the auras were so weak that he couldn't pinpoint where or who they were.
He frowned at that, wondering if there was something wrong if he couldn't sense exactly who was on his land. Alfred shrugged the thought away. It was probably the beer that was numbing his senses. In any case, from what he could feel, he didn't think the man standing in front of him was a nation, which helped him narrow down the pool a bit.
On a whim, he quickly sent a text to Arthur.
Me: Iggy, do you have a revealing spell?
Iggy (Dad): You'll need to be a lot more specific, Alfred. And I've asked you to stop calling me that.
Me: It's just a feeling I have… possibly a glamour spell? There is a person nearby that I swear I know, but it's like something is blocking the memory of them.
Iggy (Dad): Bear with me a moment.
Alfred rolled his eyes at his father's, over the top, proper response. If he wasn't being too polite, he was cursing him out. There was never a middle ground.
"I feel bad," The woman said as she eyed the new drink in her hand. "You bought me a drink, and I don't even know your name."
Alfred's ears perked up at that.
"Damir Popa."
He shook his head to himself. The name didn't ring a bell either. But, on the other hand, maybe he was just being paranoid.
Alfred could swear a look of sheer annoyance crossed the woman's face before it smoothed. "It's a pleasure to meet you… Damir." There was no way that Alfred misunderstood the sheer sarcasm rolling off the woman's tone. "I'm Anya Chernenko."
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Chernenko." They both smiled darkly at each other, like the both of them were in on a joke. "Care to dance?" He asked, pulling the woman to her feet.
"Don't mind if I do," She turned towards Alfred questioningly. "Excuse me? Would you be so kind as to watch my drink?"
Alfred's eyebrows knitted, "I-I, of course." He swallowed heavily and smiled at her.
"Thank you!"
Me: Do you know anyone by the name of 'Damir Popa'?
Iggy (Dad): Doesn't ring a bell. I think I found something. Give me a moment to send it over.
Me: :)! Your the best Iggy
Iggy (Dad): You're*
Me: -.-
They made their way to the dance floor. The man, Damir, grabbed her hips, and she giggled, placing her hands on his shoulders. Alfred pulled his eyes away from the couple and took another swig of beer. He was losing it tonight, obviously seeing things and situations that simply weren't there.
"What do you think you're doing "
Alfred scanned the crowd, looking for the cause of distress, when his eyes landed on Anya and Damir. The male was leaning down and whispered something in her ear that she hadn't liked as she was currently trying to twist out of his grasp.
Alfred noted that she had used the correct technique as he had initially let go but was quick to grab her again before she could step away. The man's mouth twitched at Anya's evident agitation.
Anya tried to yank away again, and this time the man dug his fingers into her side hard enough for her to wince. Her features darkened, and she reached to the side to grab his wrist with her free hand. She squeezed tightly and twisted his wrist to force him to let her go, stamping hard downward towards his foot. However, he had anticipated the move and quickly moved behind her, holding her arms at her sides.
She gave Alfred a wide-eyed look before she was steered towards the back exit of the club.
Alfred cursed and stood quickly, slowly moving towards them through the crowd. He kept some distance, not wanting the man to see that he had been caught. There was no way to know if Damir had any weapons on him, and Anya was much too close to him to be safe if he had.
Cool damp air and the scent of garbage met him as he pushed out of the club. He pressed himself against the wall to keep himself out of sight and peered around the corner into the dark, dingy alley that ran along the side of the club. He kneeled, staying out of the assailant's eyesight while he observed.
His cellphone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He turned, keeping the light out of sight of the two on the other side of the wall and glanced down at the message from his father.
Iggy (Dad): Yfelcîegan gamol ríceiu, ġeswuteliġe hêo hwîlum whilom ðâ to tôweardnes nihthwíla. Ġeswuteliġe bere of hê sêað ¯ægðand gearwe, ġeswuteliġe hêo adverbial phrasesealdgeweorc canne ðurhwlîtan.
Alfred's eyes widened before he cursed under his breath. What fucked up language was that?
Me: What the fuck is that shit?
Iggy (Dad): The spell you requested.
Me: When I said I learned all of the world's languages, Iggy, I meant the modern, useful ones. Idk wtf this crap is.
Iggy (Dad): It's Olde English, Alfred. I swear you kids these days have no appreciation for the ancient languages.
Alfred dialled England's number and barely waited for him to pick up the phone before he began talking. "There is a reason they are 'ancient languages'. Some shit is better left in the past. Grandpa Iggy."
England made to interrupt him, but Alfred was quick to bulldoze over anything he said. "Listen, I can't even being to comprehend how to read, let alone pronounce, what you sent me. I need you to say the spell for me."
"Get off me!" Anya growled, attempting to knee the man in the groin, but missing.
"Now, please, it's a bit of an emergency."
He could see rather than hear England heavy sighing. "Alfred, what did you get yourself into now?"
"I don't have the time to explain it right now!" Alfred said through gritted teeth. "I need your help, please, Dad."
England sighed heavily, he really did tend to do that a lot when on the phone with Alfred. "Turn on video call and turn me towards the person. I'll need an image of them in my mind while I do the spell."
Alfred did as requested and turned the screen towards the assailant and the girl.
"Alfred!" England hissed angrily. "You didn't tell me a girl was being attacked in a back alley!"
"Well, we can continue talking about it, or you can start saying the spell, and I can help save her!" Alfred snapped through gritted teeth.
"Yfelcîegan gamol ríceiu, ġeswuteliġe hêo hwîlum whilom ðâ to tôweardnes nihthwíla. Ġeswuteliġe bere of hê sêað ¯ægðand gearwe, ġeswuteliġe hêo adverbial phrasesealdgeweorc canne ðurhwlîtan!"
The man glowed purple momentarily, but neither the man nor Anya seemed to notice.
"Is that Romania?" England asked, squinting his eyes to try to see through the hazy darkness that projected through his screen.
The man had grabbed her chin and turned her face forcefully. "You are quite a pretty one, aren't you?" The woman had yanked her chin away. "Now, now, the less fuss you make, the easier this will be."
"It's Romania, all right." Thanks to England's spell, Alfred could identify Romania both by looks and the Romanian accent that coloured his words. "Thanks, Dad. I'll call you later. Love you!"
"Alfred Foster Jones, don't you dare hang up the phone!" England warned. Alfred ignored him, snapping the phone shut, shoving it into his jacket pocket. He rounded the corner and stomped over to them, his eyes flashing dangerously.
He put himself between the woman and Romania. "Vlad! Kion diable vi faras!?"
Vlad pulled out his gun, pointing it straight at Alfred's forehead.
Alfred snorted, not believing the audacity of Vlad to pull a gun on him, on his own fucking land. "Mi scias, ke vi ne estas sufiĉe stulta por direkti pafilon al mi."
He reached over and bent the end of the pistol backwards as if it were merely a piece of Play-Doh. "Vi havas ekzakte kvin sekundojn por klarigi al mi, kion diable vi faras ĉi tie antaŭ ol mi kontaktas vian prezidanton pri la milito, kiun vi ŝajnas fervora komenci kun Ameriko."
The man dropped the gun without further incentive, and Alfred smirked at the trembling of the nation's hands. "Kvin... kvar... tri... du... unu."
Romania wouldn't dare attack him with magic. England would be on him so quick his head would spin, and that was before England's brothers got wind. Alfred may not be their favourite nephew, but he was family, and you didn't dare mess with their family.
"Alfred! Estas nur miskompreno!" The man shot Anya a wide-eyed pleading look, but the woman merely looked at him with a blank expression.
"Ho ĉu vere?" Alfred's smile was innocent, but his tone was anything but. He quickly grabbed Vlad by the neck and pinned him against the wall where the woman had been trapped. He squeezed the Romanian's neck until his face turned blue. "Se mi iam denove kaptos vin sur usona grundo sen mia eksplicita permeso, ĝi estos rigardata kiel militdeklaro. Ĉu vi komprenas?" Alfred said dangerously before dropping the man to the hard ground.
"Jes, Alfred."
"Iru hejmen, nun." His tone left no room for argument, and the man scurried out of the alley and straight into a blockade of police cars.
"Alright there, Alfred?" The young police officer closest to him called as he handcuffed Romania.
"We are well! You best take this with you for evidence." Alfred bent down to grab the gun with his gloved hand and slipped it into the evidence bag officer's partner was holding.
"You should get checked out by the EMT's, Miss." The officer said, turning to Anya and eyeing the bruises on her arms worriedly.
She shook her head, waving her hand to dismiss his worry. "I just wish to go home."
"Would you like a police escort?" He asked.
"Нет. I will find my own way, thank you." Anya's tone left no room for argument, and the officer nodded in understanding.
"Get home safe."
"Thank you."
Alfred indicated towards Romania. "Make sure Vlad is on the next flight to Romania. Escorted, please."
"Of course!" The officers nodded at him and Anya, saying goodbye before escorting Romania to their police cruiser.
Alfred watched as they shoved him into the backseat of the cruiser and slammed the door. He debated warning them that Romania was as important as he was and should be treated with more respect, but he looked over at Anya, with her ripped dress, bruises on her arms and mussed hair, and decided against it. Romania had dared attack someone on his soil. He could handle being roughed up a little.
"Friend of yours?" Anya asked coldly.
Alfred cleared this throat and looked down at her, eyebrow raised. "Work acquaintance, actually."
"Lovely man," she said dryly.
Alfred didn't respond, studying her for any sign that she was going into shock. To his surprise, he saw none. "May I drive you home, Miss?"
The woman crossed her arms over her chest as she surveyed him with narrowed eyes. Alfred couldn't exactly blame her and cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke. As far as Anya knew, she walked out of one dire situation and taking him up on his offer could put her straight into another. "Why would I allow that?"
"Fair enough." Alfred had to bite back a smile. She looked ready to fight, which impressed him immensely. "You have experience with defensive attacks?" He asked, trying to put her at ease.
"I protect myself if I need to," She said simply.
"Of that, I have no doubt." He shoved his hands into his bomber jacket. "I was merely wishing to make sure you didn't run into any more idiots tonight." He glanced up at the sky pointedly. "It's a full moon, you know."
"So… there are werewolves about?" The woman asked playfully, causing a rush of unexpected laughter to leave Alfred.
"Everyone knows all the crazies come out during the full moon." He said casually.
"And how do I know you are not, as you say, a 'crazy'? Hm?" She asked, looking up at him with wide violet eyes and an amused smile.
"You don't."
She studied him for a moment longer before shrugging her shoulders, "Why not."
He nodded and started to walk towards the parking lot. "Do you need to get anything from the club?"
She shook her head, "I've everything with me."
Alfred pursed his lips and eyed her, vaguely wondering where she kept everything, but the minute those thoughts filled his mind, he quickly snapped his eyes respectfully forward.
He led her over to his Mercedes and opened the passenger side door for her. He closed it gently once she was in and walked over to his side, sliding into the driver's seat.
Alfred turned on the car, lowering the radio to a pleasant background hum. He turned to look at her, frowning as she shivered.
He removed his jacket and handed it over to her with a smile. "Here, take this. You look half frozen."
Anya stared at him for a moment before accepting the jacket and sliding her arms into the sleeves. She pulled the jacket up to her shoulders and threw him a sweet smile. "Thank you."
"Where are we going?" Alfred asked, pulling out of his spot and starting towards the parking lot exit.
"The Conrad in Midtown."
"Simply in New York on business then?" Alfred leaned forward, quickly glancing around before starting down the road.
"да, my job takes me all over, but I live in Russia." Anya closed her eyes and pressed her nose into the collar of his jacket.
"Russia…" The name sounded desperate coming from his lips. His chest clenched, but he ignored the feeling, swallowing it down. Alfred cursed himself. His feelings were getting the better of him. He had drunk way too much.
Anya sat up, her eyes wide, eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You have an issue with Russia?"
Alfred snorted at that. Where would he even start? "Not per se, it's just…" he sighed heavily, unsure how to continue his sentence without offending the poor girl further.
"да?"
He bit his lip, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He eyed Anya from his peripheral, deciding to go with a story that was as close to the truth as he could get without blowing his cover. "I work with people all over the world, and the Russian guy that I have to work with is quite difficult to deal with." He mulled over his thoughts before adding, "It's quite frustrating truthfully, as we used to be quite close before The Col— before," he finished lamely with a soft laugh. "My brother has been trying to rekindle our friendship, so to speak, but I think he's hoping for a bit more."
"Ah, you are gay then?" Her eyes shined in a way that confused Alfred.
"That's a bit of a loaded question," Alfred admitted. He hummed as he thought through his response, making sure to keep his eyes on the road and not the woman beside him. "I don't put labels on myself. I fall in love with the person despite their gender. Which I guess is pansexual, but I don't see a need to be labelled."
"Labels are important, Нет?"
"For those that need them, they deserve to have one that properly represents them. However, I think it is just as important for people who don't want a label to not be pushed into giving themselves one, or to have one placed upon them by others."
"I see." She nodded in understanding. "This Russian man then, you, how do you say… wish to date him, да?"
Alfred huffed out a laugh. "At this point, I'd settle for not getting into a fistfight with him every time we step foot into the same room," Alfred said, voice falling low. "I believe any chance at a relationship with him, be it friendship or otherwise, is much too far out of sight at this juncture. There's just too much hurt on both sides."
"If it makes you feel better, I could say quite the same about the American man that I've been working with." Anya leaned her head against the cool, fogged-up window. Her tone sounded almost regretful.
"Because he isn't a hero like me!"
She snorted, much more elegantly than Alfred had ever heard from another person. "You, a hero?"
"I did just save you from a bad guy in a dark alley. Does that not count for something?"
She hid her laugh behind a hand, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes. Alfred joined her, wiping his hand at the corner of his eye where tears had formed. Whether it was from the laughter or the conversation, Alfred would never reveal.
He pulled up to the front of the hotel and parked. He leaned back in his seat and studied Anya. Alfred decided after a moment that he liked how free she looked when she laughed and how it rang, melodic and airy. "Erm, if you aren't busy tomorrow, would you like to go for a coffee?"
"But sir, I don't even know your name!" She asked, mock scandalised with a hand at her chest. Or he assumed she put a hand on her chest. He couldn't see anything under his jacket.
He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling in the lights of the hotel. He held out his hand, palm up, towards her. "I am Alfred Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Anya… Chernenko, wasn't it?"
She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his. "Да, Anya Chernenko."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Chernenko." Alfred closed his eyes and lightly brushed his lips across her knuckles before pulling away and smiling hopefully, allowing her to remove her hand back into her lap. "So, coffee tomorrow?"
She worried her lip, trying to hide a smile as a blush crept over her cheeks. "How could I say no?"
To Be Continued…
AN: Hello All!
I hope you enjoy this! I relied on a translator for Olde English and Esperanto. If I made any mistakes, please let me know.
Were any of you able to guess it was Romania before the reveal?
I'd love to hear any feedback!
Thank you so much for reading!
There is Tea in the Sea
Mini History Lesson: Alfred and Vlad spoke Esperanto, a language created in 1887 by Polish ophthalmologist L.L. Zamenhof. It was created with the intention that it would become a universal second language for international communication. He claimed that the grammar was so easy that it could be learned in an hour, assuming that the learner had a background in European languages.
Admittedly Horrible Translations:
"Gíemen hwæðre mîn word−cwide. Medemian rædungbéc êower must fricgan. Gyfylness ðæt nêadðearfnes hwæt bringan, tîma wîf êower must bêon—" — "Hear now my words. There are lessons you must now learn. Until that time has come, a woman you must become."
Yfelcîegan gamol ríceiu, ġeswuteliġe hêo hwîlum whilom ðâ to tôweardnes nihthwíla. ġeswuteliġe bere of hê sêað ¯ægðand gearwe,ġeswuteliġe] hêo adverbial phrasesealdgeweorc canne ðurhwlîtan. — "I call upon Ancient Powers to unmask him now and in future hours. Show him well and thoroughly, reveal him so the world can see."
"Vlad! Kion diable vi faras?" — "Vlad, what the hell are you doing "
"Mi scias, ke vi ne estas sufiĉe stulta por direkti pafilon al mi." — I know you aren't stupid enough to be pointing a gun at me.
"Vi havas ekzakte kvin sekundojn por klarigi al mi, kion diable vi faras ĉi tie antaŭ ol mi kontaktas vian prezidanton pri la milito, kiun vi ŝajnas fervora komenci kun Ameriko." — "You have exactly five seconds to explain to me what the hell you're doing here before I contact your president about the war you seem eager to start with America."
"Kvin... kvar... tri... du... unu." — "Five… four… three… two… one."
"America! Estas nur miskompreno!"— "America! It's just a misunderstanding!"
"Ho ĉu vere?"— "Oh, really?
"Se mi iam denove kaptos vin sur usona grundo sen mia eksplicita permeso, ĝi estos rigardata kiel militdeklaro. Ĉu vi komprenas?" — "If I ever catch you on American soil again without my explicit permission, it will be considered a declaration of war. Do you understand?"
"Jes, America." — "Yes, America."
"Iru hejmen, nun." — "Go home, now."
Да — Yes
Нет — No