What if...

Chapter Twelve

Moldova insisted in sleeping at Romania's house, and with me. I didn't mind, and so when I woke up the morning after the meeting, I was not surprised when I found the mini Romania curled up next to me.

I sat up, smiling at him, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. He stirred and rolled over, but went right back to sleep. Careful to as not to wake him up, I crawled out of bed and quickly changed out of my pajamas, slipping on some slippers and padding down the stairs.

Romania was already up, as I expected. He was sitting in the easy chair reading a book. I checked the title, and got the slight gist that is was a romantic fairy tale.

Romania looked up, seeing me. "Oh, good morning, Carmen. I'm sorry I have no breakfast for you. I'm not use to having someone awake before ten."

I smiled, sitting on the couch. "Don't worry about it. What are you reading?"

He smiled. "A Romanian folk tale."

My eyes lit up. "I love folk tales!"

He chuckled. "I'll see if I can't pick out one for you to read. Oh, tell me, Carmen. Do you know anything about Romanian history?"

I chuckled. "Just that a lot of people believe that Dracula lived in the Transylvania Mountains, which I know is not real."

He nodded. "Good. So then what do you know about P-Dracula?"

I smiled. "Dracula was a Romanian prince and general, full name being Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia, of the House of Drăculești, also known as Vlad the Impaler (Vlad Țepeș to you Romanians), due to his favored way of execution, however before he was known as Vlad the Impailer he was dubbed 'Kazikli Bey' (The Impaler Lord) when the Ottoman Empire saw his 'forests' of impaled victims.

"At one point in his many reigns, he was captured by Hungry, sealed away in Oratia, a fortress located at Podu Dâmboviței Bridge.

"Many people presume that Dracula was Hungarian, and he was, having been born in Sighișoara, Transylvania, Kingdom of Hungary at the time, now currently a part of Romania. However, he was still a Romanian ruler," I rattled off.

Romania blinked. "You know a lot."

I smiled. "I like finding the truth. When I discovered that Dracula was real, and that he was Hungarian, I had to find out more."

He chuckled, closing his book and setting it on the end table. "So then.., What about the tale of Count Dracula, the vampire?"

"Dracula is an 1897 Gothic horror novel by Irish author Bram Stoke. He had never gone to Romania, but yet describes accurately people and places there," I promptly answered.

He chuckled again. "You know your stuff. So then... Can you tell me why you passed out in my basement?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but then quickly shut it, realizing what he was trying to do. "No. Sorry, but... I don't know... what happened."

Romania nodded, settling back into his chair, suddenly reminding me of Ciel, save for the lack of eye patch. "I see. I would like to know, though. I don't like secrets in my house."

I sighed, hanging my head. "Okay, fine." Gathering my courage, I lifted my head, starting my long explanation.

"It happened right after Elsbeth got here..." I started. "I went over to Alfred's house to play some games. He was playing one already, and yelling at the character in the game because he wasn't doing what he was suppose to be doing. I passed out, having a dream."

"What was the dream?" the blond asked.

"It was... Well, I was being taken away. By who I don't know. I couldn't see who they were. But the guy was in my dream. Didn't look like him, but they had the same name. He called me 'Anahi', and was trying to keep me from being captured."