I lay quietly in bed, staring fondly at the ceiling I had helped whitewash all that time ago. I smiled a little, remembering Moldova tripping over the bucket and spilling it all over Armenia, then having to explain the mess to Russia. Those were the fun times. Even if it was under Russia's control and constant surveillance, they were still better than what I had now—
I sat bolt upright, shocked and ashamed of myself. Why was I thinking this? Russia was not my parent or guardian; I didn't need him to run my country. I didn't WANT him to run my country. I was a surviving Eastern European nation. I many not have the best economy at the moment, but by God, it was my economy. It may not be much, but it was mine.
I glanced at the alarm clock, and winced; it was past midnight. Russia had insisted on sleeping downstairs on the couch until "your room is aired and taken care of, sestra. I don't want you to get sick." I think he also wanted to keep me from sneaking out in the night; not only did he walk like a cat, he had the ears of a cat. (Not literally. You know what I mean.)
Perhaps I was just feeling nostalgic. I nodded; that must be it. Seeing the table and hearing the chair creaking probably just triggered some long-forgotten feelings. A memory shimmered into my vision: the few dances and soirees we were allowed to attend, and dancing with each nation of the opposite gender in turn, as was the custom. Moldova was hesitant, Armenia graceful and light on his feet; Russia was intimidating, but so gentle one almost forgot who and what he was. Latvia always hid when the dance started, stammering something about flat feet. Estonia was capable, but he was much more comfortable standing in the back, face in the shadows, watching people, than actually being under the lights of a dance floor. Lithuania was even more elegant and experienced than Russia. I loved dancing with him, and he with me; I wondered if he remembered me as well as I him.
I stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering what my allies were doing. Armenia was probably trying to explain where my country WAS, and Moldova would be too busy to come to the meeting. The black market was really getting unmanageable in his nation. I smiled. Moldova and Armenia looked like brothers at first glance, but once you met them, you would find how different they were. Moldova's eyes were a stormy gray, while Armenia's were an innocent blue; Moldova was three centimetres shorter than Armenia; Moldova would rather argue than ask nicely, while Armenia suffered several genocides and occupations because of his own generosity.
They called me their sister. I looked somewhat similar, I suppose, but my national policies differed, and I desperately wanted to be a member of NATO and the EU. They didn't care as much, but I knew that Russia would try something in Ossetia1 eventually. Preventative measures only work so far, after all. The summit was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
I rolled over onto my side. Hopefully the Baltics would speak up for us; they had been friends of mine, while not as close as Moldova and Armenia and I were. I hadn't really talked to them, except in defence of Estonia, since the 1990's, when we were all breaking free of the Soviet Union. I closed my eyes; it was useless to spend my time worrying, and I should've gotten some sleep.
However, I was awake all night.
1 Region still occupied by Russian troops.