The Monsters in us all ( Dark!/Yandere! Hetalia x Reader )

Dark Romania x Reader ~Fox~

A/N: Please not beforehand that there are a few religious references in the story. This oneshot goes in the direction of an Alternative History AU. Trigger warnings as usual.

A rooster crows loud and clear, presaging the birth of a new day as the sun rises over a rural village in the Romanian countryside. A lone figure hurries through the deserted streets, glancing around every now and then to make sure they aren't being observed.

This figure is you. Pressing yourself against a wall you cautiously slid further and then knock softly on the door you've been told to seek out. The door opens a crack, just enough for you to glimpse a pair of eyes leering at you from the dimly lit room beyond.

"Where can I find a post office?", you mutter, the coded words leaving your mouth with urgency.

A hand shoots forward, encircling your wrist in a vice-like grip and jerking you in the house before the person silently shuts the door. They tug you along with them and as your eyes slowly adjust to your new surroundings you're able to make out the silhouette of a tall man. He leads you through the house, passing by richly decorated furniture and coming to a halt in front of a tapestry. The red and gold fabric rustles softly as it is pulled away to reveal another door.

The lock unclicks, letting a sparsely lit room come into view. Papers are strewn over a few desks, accompanied by typewriters and in one case even a radio transmitter. Maps cover the windowless walls, pins littered over its surface. The solemn occupants of the room glance up briefly before resuming their work.

"And, what news do you have?", the man by your side gruffly questions. Wordlessly you give the letter to him, Cosmin Lahovary his name, the yellow parchment slightly wrinkled from having to carry it in a shawl. The letter is torn from your grasp and the envelope is ripped open in haste. You study Captain Lahovary as he scans the paper sheet, his facial expression betraying his frustration towards the news.

His black hair reaches down to his shoulders and a scruffy beard covers the chin of his slim, weather-worn face. His appearance is more that of a simple farmer than a member of the resistance.

But that is how they all appear to be; ordinary, a solid piece of society, somebody who wouldn't dare rebel against the government, against the Iron Guard. It has been two years since the fascist group brought the government under their control in a coup and enforced their ridiculous ideas on the nation. To top-off the insanity most of the people lapped their empty promises and sweet lies like dogs and let themselves be chained. Except for that saw the gruesome truth behind their unrestraint trickery and decided to resist the tyrants in these harsh times of war.

That was the corner stone of the resistance. Life is harsh for you; there is the constant fear of being discovered and put to death for treason. With the Iron Guard being ever so relentless with weeding out any defiance the going can get rough at times. Prudence is a must, especially considering the methods that are used by the state police: wire-tapping, house searches, opening post just to name a few.

You yourself just came to the capital with an urgent message. For the past two weeks, the headquarters have been under close surveillance. The higher-up somehow caught wind of the "terrorists" in the heart of the country and unleashed their best men to close in for the kill.

Men would be leaning against the wall of the opposite side of the street whenever somebody would look out of the faded windows of the rickety building, observing, waiting to strike. Or they would park their cars by the pavement and watch from behind dark-tinted windows for hours.

In their desperation, the boss had given you a vague description of where and who you should go to and sent you out along with a few others to the outposts with a warning.