The air was eerily calm, the silence daunting in the bleakness of the day. Even the birds flew without sound. Their eyes seemed to follow Antonio, their gazes harsh and criticizing. He had never meant to become this.. to do this! This wasn't how things were supposed to be!
He had just wanted to prove himself. To show that he could be strong, could be everything everyone had said he couldn't be. An empire, self sufficient and rivaling his fathers own.
Romulus' voice echoed in his head, words from his childhood haunting him even now as he stared at the red on his hands, on his coat, too dark to vanish in the red fabric. "Listen to me, Toni. You will never be an Empire. Don't even try. Swear to me you will not try!" Antonio had been confused and hurt by the words. Did his father not believe in him? Think he was weak? Tears had filled the five year olds eyes, which he had promptly been punished for. Men were supposed to be strong. He was weak. Just a stupid baby. The boy had sworn to himself then and there that he would be an even greater nation than Rome ever was!
He had worked himself to the bone to become strong. Training with his father and brothers, and still, he had never been enough to make his Papa proud. Even after Papa was gone, he worked. He became strong, built a stable nation. He even had colonies, the start of his Empire!
Little Romano had been his world, his pride and joy. But still it wasn't enough. He had wanted more… he had wanted to be worth love and pride. He wanted Romano to be proud of him, to have everything he had not been given.
And so he had taken to the sea.
He had started with the best intentions, misguided by the words of his leaders into believing he was doing something right. Take Christianity to the Godless Heathens in the New World. Crush the savages and expand the weren't really people, his leaders had told him. They were just savages, no better than beasts. And Antonio had believed them. His faith had been everything to him then, and he would do most anything if he believed it was what God wanted. That was how they controlled him, manipulated him into fulfilling their own selfish desires. But the chaos and death that had happened in the New World… it had done something to him. Twisted his mind, made him crave more power. Always more.
And so he had gone back to the seas, killing and robbing. It hadn't been long before he was a pirate feared even more than Arthur was, and oh how he had looked up to Arthur for his power and wealth. It felt good, and Antonio had stopped caring who he hurt. He had women falling at his feet, a different one in his bed every night, he had power, he had wealth. The sun would not set on the Spanish Empire.
That insanity followed him home too. He even became cold towards his precious little Romano, and with his leaders becoming the voices in his head, he began to act cruelly, punishing the once stubborn child for even small offenses.
Blood stained his hands almost permanently, and Antonio had relished in it, gotten a sick amusement out of the suffering of those around him.
There was no more of that now. Emerald eyes were broken as the Spaniard looked around at the faces of his crew, no more loyal as they once had been. His movements were weak, as his fingers clutched around the blade driven into his stomach. He had not seen his Romano grow. Had not known he was now the teenager who had snuck aboard his ship. But Romano had not forgotten. He had not forgotten the Spain who had once treated him so kindly, who he had called his Papa. Now, this monster was all that remained. And so Romano had done what he had to.
Blood gurgled from Antonios lips, as he struggled to speak. "If I don't make it…. know I always loved you… Roma…. all I did… I did for you…." It all made sense now. His father had not told him to not become an Empire because he thought Antonio was weak. It was to protect him from the madness that had once taken Romulus too. But he had followed right in the mans footsteps and done everything he had hated his father so much for.
"Hush." Lovinos voice was flat, quiet. There was no malice, he was pained but he knew he had to do this. Walking behind the man, he gripped his ponytail, pulling out his dagger. It had to be done. It was the only way. With a deep breath, he sliced it off, the symbol and representation of Antonios Empire.
The Spaniards eyes grew heavy, head dizzy as he lost consciousness, falling backwards. Romano caught him easily, cradling his caretaker to his chest, removing the sword in his stomach and bandaging him up carefully. "Please… please understand why I did this…" He whispered. All he could do now was pray. And pray he did.