So... yeah. An attempt at RomaniaxHungary. A day after his sketch came out it seems there was a crapton of fanart for this pair, and I got inspiration. I still prefer PruHun though! All the Romanian and Hungarian I got off of Google Translate, so if I got anything wrong, blame it. I speak neither language. More notes at the end.

The night was dark and cold, not that the coldness could be felt through the figure's skin. Leaves crunched under leather soled boots as they walked through the thick, almost black forests, not that the darkness was a handicap. The nighttime was his domain, and he could navigate it as easily as a bat did through echolocation. No, a bat wasn't a good description of him. He was more like a wild cat, or a hungry wolf. Yes, a wolf. Sleek, independent, graceful, intelligent, beautiful, predatory. Yes, that was a perfect description of him.

The man walked through with the ease of the wisping wind, his figure and clothing moving through the branches and bramble as simply as it would going down a flattened path or a cobblestoned street. A few rogue twigs caught the male's cloak, but a simple flick would free it. He travelled this way half out of preference, he enjoyed wandering through the natural forests and hills of the land, and half because he had a very important mission, and he could not accomplish it by travelling over conventional roads. Too great a risk of running into another person and aborting the mission.

He reached the edge of the forest and stared up at his destination. The castle was a great size, all brown stone that appeared black in the limited light coming from the moon and the few stars that were seen through the clouds covering the sky. Small hole windows dotted the outer wall, glass ones laid in the towers and higher levels. Large trees and bushes circled the outside wall and clustered around the pillars of the bridge into the centre courtyard. Instead of going for that though, he exited the forest and began to walk until he found what he was looking for.

Stopping outside the wall, he looked up at a window in one of the square extensions attacked to the side of one of the towers in the structure. It was a glass one, and opened to the night and to him. Closing his eyes, the wanderer took a deep breath in.

His nasal passages were assaulted with all the smells of the surrounding area. He could smell the moisture in the air, the rich musky scent of the earth beneath his boots; the accented scents of the trees and the sleeping wild foliage were no strangers, along with the cool smell of the castle stones. Beyond that he could make out the distinct smells of hay, animal waste, base human filth and the dirtiness of the castle in general mixed in with the rank stench of humans. Truly accursed creatures, humans were. Perfectly content to wallow in their own waste like they were no more than simple pigs. Disgusting. Shaking his head and his nose free of all that filth, he closed his eyes once more and took another, stronger smell, taking him all the way up the wall and through the open window.

Aaah, there it was; that was the scent he was looking for.

Opening his eyes, he looked up and saw the silhouette of the room's inhabitant, standing at the sill and looking out at the night sky. The white of the lady's nightclothes, for he could smell it was indeed a female, stood out in the darkness, and the man stood still. Not that she would be able to detect him down here, but he must still be cautious.

When the lady turned and closed the window to her chambers, he waited the time of twenty beats before he moved, going towards the wall separating him from his prize. Stopping at the wall, he pulled his gloves off with his teeth and pocketed them. Holding out his hands, he watched as his fingernails began to grow out and curved inwards so they looked more like claws, placing them on the wall and digging them in. Lifting himself up so his foot hit the wall, he began to climb.

Silently and with ease he crawled up the rock wall like it was nothing, hoping over the top onto the walkway, then took a few rushed steps up on the edge and leapt over to the wall of the tower, landing and grabbing just as silently as he had before. Glancing up at his destination, he began climbing again. Closer and closer he got, and with each grab he got closer to his prize and that alluring scent of hers.

Reaching it finally, he pushed it open and leapt over the sill, standing in the room and was hit with the two scents he came here for:

Woman. And blood.

The room was a typical enough ladies chamber. Large and made of stone, normally cold if there was no fire crackling. It had a luxurious four poster bed with canopy and bed curtains, all deeply rich colours of purple and green; a chest sat at the foot of the bed, some abandoned embroidery laying atop it; a handsomely engraved armoire sat against one wall, and a large screen sat in another corner for the mistress of this chamber to change behind; a large rug laid down on the floor in the centre of the room, and by the large fireplace to the side sat two chairs, and there sat his prize, sketching something on parchment with charcoal.

She really was a true jewel. Long luscious golden-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and framed her downward face; soft lashes laid over her round eyes staring down at the parchment on her lap she was drawing on with slim, nimble fingers. Her nose was perfectly long and pointed for her face, and her lips were soft and pink and full, begging to be kissed and ravished. The thin, womanly body he knew she possessed was covered in a modest white sleeping gown with a thin robe tied around her waist, her feet adorned with white slippers. The growing lust in the pit of his stomach only became stronger as his unnatural eyes raked over her seemingly unknown.

The charcoal strokes paused in their shading as the woman lifted her head up and looked in his direction. In many exact situations like this, the first instinct for a lady would be to scream and try to escape from a foreign intruder climbing into her room. Not her though, oh not her. She was no ordinary lady.

She was unsurprised to see him standing there, watching her. The figure at her window, clad in soft black pants, white tunic embellished with delicate and intricate embroidery around the collar, black boots and black cloak with a red interior was as familiar to her as the Sun in the sky. She quietly took in the thin man and the lithe muscles under those clothes, his paler-than-the-Moon skin, and his unearthly handsome face; sharp cheekbones and jaw were the basic foundations of his facial shape, thin lips were set in a line as he waited; his nose was thin, and his eyes were dark in his skull. All framed by light coloured hair that stopped below his chin, and topped with a small top hat with two ribbons flowing down from it.

Overall, an incredibly handsome man with an undeniable presence who made her skin crawl and blood boil at the same time with varying, conflicting emotions.

Outwardly her face was cold and indifferent, but those eyes... her eyes, a deep green, green as the forest just outside these walls, they showed her true feelings. Joy, smugness, desire, revulsion, passion, lust; they were all conveyable in those two gems. They screamed at him, What are you waiting for? Come and get me.

And, well, who was he to deny a beautiful woman what she wanted?

Before she could even blink he was upon her, hands grasping her hard enough to crack stone and his lips fused hotly to her skin. The parchment and charcoal fell from her hands as fingers grasped at him, digging into his shoulder blade and tangling in his hair, smudging black dust in his pale locks. Her body arched towards him as he sucked on her pulse point, drawing the blood to the surface without even penetrating the skin yet. She let out a noise, something between a breathy laugh and a quiet moan.

"Vártam, mikor jön értem..." I wondered when you would come for me, she finally breached the silence.

This drew a deep chuckle from her male companion, who lifted his head to look into her eyes. "Voi veni întotdeauna atunci când purtaţi astfel de parfum rafinat, floare delicata mea." I'll always come when you wear such exquisite perfume, my delicate flower, he stroked her jaw, his voice deepened by two warring lusts.

The woman almost laughed at this. She was by no means delicate, far more than capable of taking care of herself and getting what she wanted than any man before her dared. "Ön megy, hogy előre vagy fogsz lemenni hozzá?" Are you going to make advances or are you going to get down to it?

The man simply chuckled again, standing with her in his arms like she weighed nothing (and truthfully, to him she did not) and carried her over to the four poster bed. "Doriţi haine de pat tras înapoi sau nu?" Would you like the bed clothes pulled back or no?

"Azt akarom, hogy hagyja abba, így hosszú és kap már." I want you to stop taking so long and get to it, she glared.

With another chuckle he lowered on top of the bed clothes and crawled overtop of her, not bothering with his boots or his cloak. "Întotdeauna atît de nerăbdător, nu eşti tu, micul meu miel? Nu va faceti griji, va voi da ce vrei." Always so impatient aren't you, my little lamb? Do not worry, I will give you what you want. He gave her a wide, wicked smile, showing off brilliant teeth and sharp, extended incisors as he descended on her.

This was how it was, how they worked and belonged. Outside, in the normal world, they are like cats and dogs, always fighting and unable to communicate or function together. Only in moments like this, when desires of the flesh and hunger come together so exquisitely can they belong. The hate is still there, and in the morning they will silently ignore the events of the night past, but for but a short time, the hate is put aside as baser and deeper instincts and feelings are released.

His lips press to hers with just the right amount of pressure to make her close her eyes and submit shortly, her arms going around him as her hands went to his head again and she returned the kiss with equal passion. To expose yourself to any being of the night was dangerous, but to submit yourself to a vampyr, the ultimate of evil incubi, was suicide.

Well, she always was one to play on the wild side.

His hands went to the laces at the collar of her nightdress, undoing the binds that kept him from his prize. He learned long ago that to rip off the garment in his passion (which he still wished to do) brought about a great ruckus in the castle for her, and he did not wish to have her angry at him. At least in these times. A soon as he could get them done he bunched up her skirt and pushed the entire piece of fabric up and off, leaving it half-laying on the edge.

His eyes darkened more if possible. The first time he saw her like this his senses had went aflame, and he was almost positive were he a normal human he would have become aroused instantly. She was slim as was the norm, and he could trace the outline of some ribs when she laid like this; but unlike the peasant girls she ate better, so her curves were a little rounder, a little softer, and more womanly. Her long tresses spread behind her like a halo to match the brown thatch of hair growing at the cusp between her legs.

He wanted to devour her whole.

He peeled his gloves off his hands with his teeth and set them aside, exploring her familiar shape with bare hands. She let out a shuddering sigh as she felt those cold hands touch her skin. She wanted the gloves on only to keep her warm, but he insisted on having nothing restricting his sense of touch. When he lowered his face down so it barely brushed her skin did she start to feel hot again. He was smelling her, she knew.

"Deci, astăzi bogat de flori. Este acesta un parfum special ai facut pentru mine?" So rich today flower. Is this a special perfume you made up for me?, he sighed against her skin, making her shiver with need and not entirely willingly. With a smile she pushed his head down to encourage him lower. "Ma este egy különleges este, hogy csak egyszer egy hónapban." Tonight is a special night, that only comes once a month, she purred. He went down lower curiously, face coming to her nether regions–

Oh.

Oooh.

Well, wasn't this a treat?

He spread her legs open and moved down into her sacred core, inhaling. A visible shudder rippled through him. Ah, women. Such marvelous creatures, created just for him with their cycles of bleeding. He licked his lips and invaded her.

She gasped and bucked at the slippery muscle, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as the other balled in the cover beneath her. She could feel him map out every crevice of her intimate core, quenching his thirst like a dying man in the desert would when he stumbled upon an oasis. She squeezed her eyes tight as she felt a traitorous moan leave, though muffled by her hand, as his tongue extended inside her, growing longer to push further into her, getting what was available to him. She was his drug, and he would die a thousand deaths if it would allow him to have one taste of her.

He pulled his mouth away when he had filled his belly, emptying her of female blood for this month's cycle. He licked his lips and wiped underneath his bottom one, licking his thumb and stared at her as she watched with glazed eyes. "Draga mea, te gust cu totul divin." My darling, you taste utterly divine.

It took her a moment to compose a response to that. "Látom, hogy élveztem." I can see that you enjoyed it., her eyes flickered to his trousers, where there seemed to be a bit of tightness there that had not existed when he first entered her chambers.

He chuckled at that, red eyes adding to the detailed mind portrait of her naked form already compiled. He loosened the laces on his tunic and pulled it off over his head, showing his pale-as-death skin to the night. "Esti in seara asta doar prea tentant." You're just too tempting tonight.

She gave a coy smirk as he undid the lacings on his pants, watching him undress fully. To be perfectly honest, she was surprised he had managed to last even this long. After all, she had bathed that night specifically for him to be able to smell her; the combination of her own natural fluids, and that of the young, innocent virgins whose blood they "donated" to the mysterious lady in the castle with a miraculously ageless face and body.

The vampyr looked back to her when he was fully nude, smelling and shuddering in pleasure from what he had sniffed. He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. "Cât de multe ai de scurgere in seara asta pentru mine, hm? Parfumul tău este atât de puternic şi de dulce." How many did you drain tonight for me, hm? Your scent is so strong and sweet, he purred, leaning in and smelling her closer, nose brushing her breasts and he groaned, throbbing with need. It didn't help when her hands came up to push his head down to her breasts, encouraging his icy touch.

Neither gave thought to the implications this sinful affair had. He was a child of the undead who feasted on the living, she was a mortal devil who preyed on the innocent and used their life force for her own selfish purpose. He was the ice to her fire, the night to her day. They were opposites that managed to fit perfectly together. She would be the one shamed by this if she was ever arranged into a treaty or marriage, but she had no concerns with that now. She could blame her lack of virginity on the turban bastard in the East, or if she was really mad on the albino north in Germanic territory. But they both knew whose fault it really was, but when he pushed her legs apart and sunk himself deep inside her velvety heat, they didn't care. Her fingers grasped him as they moved, the shock of cold contrasting with the supreme burning in her body making her gasp in surprise before moaning in pleasure.

The vampyr watched her as he thrust inside her, fascinated with the changes to her face when they performed this carnal dance. The way her eyebrows would knit, how her eyes squeezed shut, the shaped of her mouth whenever she let out a sound, the colourization of her cheeks from milk to pink, her breath on his skin, her body rocking beneath his... he could never cease to observe and find some new, intriguing detail to add to his already extensive memory.

She really was like a drug; he wanted to know everything about her, commit it all to memory, so he could have the privilege of claiming he knew her better than anyone. Than the Muslim in the eastern empire, than her old Teuton friend in the north, and than the Austrian musician who governed another part of her original lands. He really did want to consume her whole, mind and body.

He gripped her hips and thrust in faster, making her wince as he hit a little too hard, but he didn't stop, gripping her hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises as he made sure she was reaching the peak of satiation. Just as she was about to hit her peak, his fangs extended and he descended, biting her neck and bringing forth a fountain of blood. She gave a cry before his hand covered her mouth, moaning as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, the combination of orgasmic ecstacy and suction too much for her to handle, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

He groaned as he tasted her, reaching his own end and spilling forth inside her as he drank her crimson juices again. Licking at her neck, the bite marks healed up completely hiding their existence, and he lifted himself up, licking his lips. Oh what a sight this would make, he thought gleefully, perhaps I should have this immortalized in paint. He chuckled at his own thought, pulling out of the unconscious woman and redressed himself.

He took a look as he tied his cloak back on, picking up her nightdress and replacing it on her. Disappointing to see her body vanish, but it must be done. He pulled the sheets over her and pulled on his gloves, brushing some hair off her face. He leaned down and whispered to her, in her language, "Hamarosan, virág, leszek vissza hamarosan. Várj meg, mint mindig." Soon, flower, I will be back soon. Wait for me as always. She stirred faintly, and he went to the window ledge, looking around the room before closing the glass and descending back down into the night.

Hungary in this is based off of an actual person named Erzsébet Báthory, who was accused of torturing and killing hundreds of young girls and bathing in their blood to keep her youthful beauty. She was Hungarian as well. More info on her can be found here: http:/ en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Erzs%C3%A9bet_B%C3%A1thory

The castle is based off of a real castle called Hunyad Castle, currently in Romania but originally Hungarian, then Transylvanian before Romania engulfed the latter. Picture is here: http:/ en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ File:Varkapu. jpg

Romania is a vampire because... hell, who hasn't imagined him as a vampire since his design came out? Plus he has a cult history of vampires. How fitting, ne?