Now comes what we've never seen yet… All right, at least not at all often: Hungary, in Moscow, in December, with a bottle of vodka and Ivan! Oh hell… this does not look good… T.T Russia, forgive me! I have a feeling I'll fail at writing you epically…

Disclaimer: This is getting boring, y'know… but no, I still don't own them.

9- Moscow

Hungary was shaking worse than Latvia did as they (she and Russia who came to pick her up and brought a big board with her name on it) exited the airport in Moscow, and she felt the wind and the freezing cold that was an ordinary winter in this city. She should've known better than to come here before April… She tried her hardest to swallow a few "well-chosen"Hungarian words about various things- words she would've uttered on the top of her lungs were she at home, but she had way bad memories with doing that within earshot of the tall Russian. Although her language had the great advantage of being rarely spoken (at least among the nations), you could never know just what others understand or find similar.

'Have you got any vodka on you?' She asked him (of course in Russian- she thought she'd fit in easier with her slight accent than with using English, plus it was an unwritten agreement and that they spoke in his language when they were among themselves) after a couple of seconds. He pulled a bottle from one of the pockets of his great coat, then handed it over to her. She mumbled thanks, opened it and took a swig, slightly enjoying the burning sensation in her throat and stomach then wiping her mouth and giving the drink back. She felt the alcohol heating her limbs, especially her legs- she had a good warm coat on, but the trousers and the gloves didn't seem to be enough at all.

'Only that much? You seemed like you were really cold.' he remarked, hiding the previous liquid again.
'I am, but drunkenness might result in me falling asleep, and I hardly think you'd like having to run with me to your house or the hospital, so let's get somewhere warm quickly.'
And so they set out to search for a place- a bar, a bistro, a fast-food restaurant- whichever came first and whichever they thought they'd prefer right then. After about ten minutes, the two ended up sitting in a bar, which (thanks to the fact it was about 10 o'clock) was nearly empty. They quickly hung their coats on the back of their seats.

'Something warm but alcohol-free for me, please…' She asked when they sat into two chairs and Russia asked her what she wanted. He arched an eyebrow, but didn't speak, preferring to turn around and give their orders. Soon enough, he returned with his favorite drink.
'The bartender says he only has tea if you don't want to get warm from liquor, and you'll have to wait for a while.' The large nation said as he returned and took his seat. She nodded in acceptation, praying that the tea will arrive soon- so that she'll have something to look at, for of course looking him in the eye was hardly imaginable now. She felt nearly nostalgic at that thought: it wasn't always like that; she remembered how leisurely they could talk back in WWI. They were in the same boat, neither of them wanted to waste ammo or people by shooting at the other who kept on hiding in the rifle-pit. It nearly felt like they were equal, both cold, both feeling that the rule of their bosses wouldn't last for long, and both fed up with war. They were joking, or discussing serious things, and Russia mentioned a certain Marx and Lenin with growing enthusiasm, until one day in the October of 1917, she heard he went home but would come back. Two weeks later, he did return, but without the emperor's coat of arms on his ushanka, and with a different look on his face. They didn't meet for long, since soon he signed peace treaty with Germany and all of his allies. Russia said he had better things to do (specifically, a regime to build up) than fighting, so he accepted the terms, after which he suffered the greatest loss in the entente- and by the next time they met, they were on opposing sides in yet another world war- which was more cruel and terrible than any they've seen before. When it was over, she found herself in Russia's side of Europe, wondering if it was merely her blindness or he did go through a significant change since the beginning of the century.
But of course, nothing can last forever- communism failed, and although what's happened cannot be changed, they had to develop a somewhat normal diplomatic relationship. The Russian Federation might be stripped of his status as a superpower, but he was still dominant- leaving him out of your calculations would be foolish to suicidal, perhaps unless you happened to be America.
'Elizaveta… are you all right?' she heard, and felt the blood rush to her face. He noticed?!
'S-sorry, I just… spaced out…' Hungary muttered. The knot in her stomach got only tighter- nervousness around him was nearly a second nature to everyone in the late Warsaw Pact, regardless of him meaning to induce it or not.
At long last, the bartender appeared with the tea. She took a sip and gave a sound of contentment.
'That's better…' She smiled. Russia's expression mirrored hers, but weirdly, it didn't worsen her edginess- maybe she let her guard down because of the warmth, but she didn't find any reason to question this smile's genuineness. Still… what should they talk about?
'What were you thinking about?' he asked, his face becoming more serious. She blinked with surprise, then looked at his face, and couldn't help but say the truth… at least a part of it.
'The past. You know… when we realized fighting is useless during WWI.'
Now, he did look kind of nostalgic- and that was something she found strange. She didn't see this face of his often, if at all. It was neither childishly happy, nor mysterious, nor scary or threatening. It was merely gentle.
'Yes… we were chatting nicely back then, weren't we?' he muttered, his voice somehow akin to Hungary's when talking about one of the short periods of peace during her history. Elizaveta was surprised he mentioned it with such fondness.
'I… I thought you forgot it… or that it seemed insignificant.' He looked suddenly up with curiosity. 'I mean… I wasn't an important opponent of yours, plus you had crucial changes going on shortly after.'
'I didn't.' He merely said, head bent slightly down, bangs covering his eyes. She took a large gulp- oh no, did she anger him? 'Your reasons are true, though. You were always good at analyzing.' He added in a colorless tone, adding to her feeling that she did something she will very much regret. 'Do you want to test how in-shape you are?' Russia asked with a small smile, finally looking at her, though he concealed his motives.
'What do you mean? Chess?' She frowned, earning a not from the larger nation.
'Yes, a simple game of chess, although… We could put a bet on it, just for fun's sake.'
Oh no, this didn't look well… there's no way to back out now, and he dictates the terms… She cannot afford loss, but that was easier said than done with Ivan Braginski… She played with him several times, and never yet managed to beat him (although he did admit she gave signs of progress); Estonia tried again and again as well, but failed all the same.
'What bet?' She inquired, hoping her voice didn't tremble- which it did, judging by the way his lips twitched.
'If I win… you'll hand Balaton over for 24 hours. If you win, I'll go and date anybody who comes to your mind.'
For a moment, she stared at him blankly. He had to be really sure about winning- he would certainly never volunteer to risk having to date someone he doesn't know; it was the perfect chance to get him and America together! But… If she lost… And she never won against him… Balaton was a part of her, just as Texas or Nantucket for America- or the hair curl of the Italies was.
'Deal?' He asked, giving her his hand. She sighed, and with a determined look on her face, shook it.
'Deal.'
He went and asked the bartender if he had a chess set, then borrowed it, brought it over and set it up.
'Which color do you want to play with?'
'White.'

And so the game began. Step after step, each thought over at least ten times; the board became slowly but gradually emptier as they mercilessly eliminated anything that got into their way, be it pawn or queen. She tried not to show it, but the hard concentration this game required took away loads of her strength; Elizaveta knew she wouldn't last much longer before crumbling, and even one mistake is enough for him to win. She'll have to end this, and soon…
But how? His moves were flawless, all of them, and he didn't seem to be tired; his face was unreadable, apparently taking this seriously.
She had only one chance- if her bishop… and then the castle… then she might give him chess, if not checkmate. But if he sees through it, she can kiss her castle goodbye… No matter what, she had to make that move. Now or never… So she lifted the little bishop and put it down again on its intended place.
And that was when the miracle happened- he didn't notice it, and the small success gave her enough strength to go on. Five minutes later…
'Checkmate.' She claimed, beaming. The pieces were hastily collected and returned to the bartender, along with the board.
'You surprised me.' He admitted. 'But I'll stick to my word: who is going to be my… date?' He said, the chance visibly unnerving him. She whispered it into his ears, then left before he could change his mind and avenge his defeat.

AN
Yet another chapter finished :D
So, about first world war… despite the severe cold, the Eastern or Russian frontline didn't become as infamous as in the second world war, in Hungary at least. Around 16-17, it was very common for Hungarian and Russian soldiers to befriend each other- yes, you heard it right. The reason is, I imagine, what I wrote: cold, supply shortage, etc. brought them together. That was how the Socialist ideals found their way to Hungary.
At Brest-Litovsk, Russia signed a peace treaty (with the central powers) which meant they gave up a great area to Germany. Why, you could ask, when they were winning? Because they had to organize and strengthen the soviet regime. The centrals (and the rest of the entente, for that matter) didn't recognize the new state; I read the person who represented Austria-Hungary even toltd it to one of the Russians (adding that they never will), to which the Russian smiled and said: "I sincerely hope we'll be able to make a revolution in your country." Sounds like Ivan, doesn't he?
An another thing, while we're talking about WWI: Italy did put up a fight; for us Hungarians at least, the Italian (or South) was more infamous than General Winter's one.
I made Russia say Hungary is good at analyzing because in the second edition of We, Europeans, it writes Hungarians are good at it and seeing loopholes (oh yes, that's true); even adding that the Hungarian language might have something to do with it. Well, it's true it has a complicated, agglutinating structure with a ton of suffixes (it means, it adds suffix after suffix if it needs to, instead of changing the basis form /German, English, French, etc/ or the emphasis and tone /Chinese is like that, I understand/ to express different grammatical relations. For example, the three tenses and modes of the verbs have their suffixes, as does the object in the sentence, etc.), but the history gives enough basis for that, too…
Russia was more difficult to write than I imagined, at parts at least... I hope I did him all right. -.-" Plus I only just realized I didn't include the Feliks bit... Sorry, Yana... :( But he will come! Next chapter I imagine... :)

And as for chess- I imagine Russia's quite the expert at it (loads of the best players are/were Russian), and with Estonia's brain, he's bound to keep trying to defeat Ivan.

Ps: What do you think, what would've happened if she had to hand Balaton over? I saw a mini-comic on dA where she turned into a male once she took it off XD