Author's Note: This is an update to the story I wrote a while ago. I deleted the original due to the fact the edits I made are substantial enough to warrant it. Maybe not right now, but definitely later. They made the story flow better with what I wanted to tell). Enjoy!


The storm had gotten worse. For most of the day, the black clouds of doom had been covering the heavens and the pressure has been building up until the rain started and the wind picked up. The sea was rising with anger. It felt as though the little vessel of a ship was inside a snow globe being shaken by a toddler. All hands were on the deck, clinging to anything stable for dear life. Even the Union Jack was very close to being ripped off the mast.

England, in a black captain's coat, stood at the wheel, not trusting anyone else to steer the ship to safety. He had been roaming the seas longer than any of them had been born after all. He had seen stormy seas before… just not one quite as wild as this.

"Sir!" one of the members of his crew called out, "We can't see anything through this!"

"Keep vigilant!" England shouted back, "There'll be no safety until this storm ends."

'Or we reach port,' he thought, though it looked very unlikely since he couldn't even find land. The rain was too thick and the world looked as if it was painted in black and white. 'Damn it. We should be near shore. Why can't we see anything?' Surely there should have been a lighthouse to guide weary sailors to safety.

There was a crack of lightning nearby, and the noise temporarily deafened England. He wasn't all that scared before. Now he was terrified. Lighting storm plus wooden boat equals almost certain death.

'Lord God in heaven,' England prayed silently, something he hadn't done in a long time, 'Steer this goddamn ship to safety or I swear I'll…'

"LOOK OUT!"

From out of nowhere another ship, much bigger than England's vessel, appeared. Without any time to get away, the two ships crashed into each other. England was propelled forward onto the main deck.

"It's the Spaniards!" one of the crew shouts.

England got up and straitened his captain's hat. Indeed, it was the Spaniards; their bright red and gold colors were whipping around in the wind. It was the only bright thing in that cold, dark night. All of England's crew drew out their weapons, ready for any sort of attack to come from the enemy ship.

"Hold your ground!" England commanded, as he drew out his own sword. Any other day, the nation would have a charge-and-take-no-prisoners attitude, but today they were in a bloody storm and their ship was badly damaged to the point of no return. If Spain was on board this ship, just maybe they could come up with an agreement to get out of this alive.

"Well, look what the storm decided to wash in?" said a familiar voice nonchalantly, and the nation of Spain walked down the ramp onto England's ship. He looked calm, almost as if in control of the storm itself.

England gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. "I don't think I gave you permission to come aboard yet," he hissed at Spain.

The Spaniard walked up close to the Englishman, so that the two of them were almost touching noses. Spain's eyes this close up looked tired and worn. England had no doubt his own looked very similar. Spain got close to England's ear and whispered, "Just between you and me, I have someone at home I'd very much like to get back to in one piece or else he'll kill me. No doubt you do as well. Surrender your ship and I'll see you home. ¿Comprende?"

England raised an eyebrow. "And how can I trust you?"

Spain looked at England's eyes again, and said so that everyone can hear, "You really don't have a choice, do you?" England looked down and saw a gun pointed at his stomach. He glowered at Spain. "It's not loaded," Spain said in a hushed tone, "This is just for show. My ship is fine. So tell your crew to obey my orders, or I will have you perish in this storm."

England swallowed his pride and dropped his sword. His men followed suit, hands raised in defeat.

"Good. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you and your men. Just this once."

With his hands raised in defeat, England was led by Spain's gun point onto the Spanish ship, and to the captain's quarters. Once the door closed behind the two of them, Spain put away the gun.

"Now," Spain said, adjusting his attire to look sharp and put together, "I have to get this ship out of this storm. Take a siesta; you look beat. I'll be back when we are safe and sound, and we can talk about things then, 'k?" He put his hand on the doorknob and paused for a moment. "Oh, and welcome to the Asunción."

England nodded as Spain left the room. Being there should have made England nervous. Instead, he felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All of a sudden, England felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. He sat down on the edge of the bed. England? It seemed the day's events finally caught up with him. He lay down on the bed and sighed. He hoped he was making the right choice, surrendering for the sake of the crew. England, can you hear me?That and if the Spaniard would be true to his word. England, wake up!England closed his eyes and let his mind become numb. His last thought was about the child back home who was waiting for his return. Shit, what have you done?


Thank you for reading. For the first few chapters, they are going to come up pretty quick because there isn't that much changed material. Once the heavy changed material comes along, updates will be like once a week. Please comment; I like reading them.