This fic was actually a request based on my Hetalia one – shot :X

I give cookies to whomever figures out the purpose of this fic! I might even consider another request…

Pairings: Arthur/Antonio and Antonio/Arthur; Antonio/Romano; Arthur/Alfred; Gilbert/Roderich;
Rating: For this chapter T for a little blood and cursing; Overall M;
Warnings: cursing, blood, violence;
Summary: After an encounter with the British Empire Antonio makes a wish to the Britannia Angel; AU; Conqustador!Spain, Pirate!Arthur;

AN: Somebody make me finish this! Human names are used to show that two characters are very close to each other while country names means that they are simply familiar;
Maricel is a Spanish female name that derives from the Greek Ares, who was a God of War;
The "rr" in the Spanish language is used to make the "r" sound more prominent and resonant

Disclaimer: Do not own!

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Arthur stared at the gold coin in his hands. He had picked it up from the floor of his own house on the way out to the World Meeting.

He flipped the thing and looked at the ornaments at the back of it. Spanish, definitely Spanish. One of the many he kept in his basement. Alfred had invaded his cellar, babbling something about Pirates of the Caribbean and a big party. Alfred had taken a few of Arthur's old pirate cloths and must have spilled the coin from some jacket.

Arthur sighed and looked at the old, slightly worn out inscription that marked the piece of gold - Imperio Español.

Antonio.

Arthur couldn't help but wonder about the other. Did Antonio miss the old days? Back when they were Great and chased each other around the seas in a mad race, trying to take more, win more, conquest the other?

He flipped it again and closed his eyes. He could still remember… Steel meeting steel in the middle of the night, while cannonballs flew over their heads, wood splintered and fire illuminated the dark sky. He could still remember how the mast dandled beneath their feet as they crossed weapons and eyes – fiery, bloody and craving death.

Arthur took a deep breath and could smell the gunpowder that had covered their cloths and the alcohol that had spilled on the wet wood. The deafening sound of lead crushing…

"Hell!" Arthur jumped out of his chair as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry… didn't mean to scare you…" Someone was saying and he spun around only to be met with a pair of bright green eyes that were looking sheepishly at him. Then they widened as their owner saw the coin Arthur was still holding. "You still have those?" Antonio beamed at him and reached to take it, but he pulled his hand away instinctively. Their eyes met again and this time Antonio's were slightly startled.

Arthur shivered. There was something dark and sinister shifting behind the other's bright green eyes. Something that Arthur had longed to see for far too long. But then Antonio just shrugged, smiled and turned to walk towards his own seat. He couldn't have controlled his anger even if he wanted to. He grabbed the darker man by the hand, swirled him around and slammed him on the table.

He was furious. Had he really hoped to see the Spanish Empire?! That mortal enemy of his? Was he really that disappointed at what had just transpired? Most importantly how dared Antonio disregard him like that?

"England, what are you…?"

"It's Arrthur, you moron!" He growled through clenched teeth, trying to calm his blazing anger.

"Arrt…, are you sure you're fine, you don't look so good…" Arthur took a deep, calming breath "…sure you…" He wanted to beat some sense into the other "eaten something…" It was wrong. It was all plain wrong. What had happened to them? "…can give you some…" Had he done that? "…have in my jacket outside…" Had he really broken Antonio that much? "…a moment." Was the ache at the pit of his stomach regret? "England." He wanted to kill something. "England!" Preferably South Italy. "Arrthur!"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his own name.

"Can you please move, so I can take the pill?" Antonio smiled that same sweet, caring smile up at him.

"What pill?" He asked, confusion washing over him for a moment and pushing all other emotions away.

"For your stomach ache." The man beneath him said and his lips pouted slightly and Arthur wanted to bash his head in the wooden surface. Yes, his stomach was aching, only the nausea that was currently bubbling in it wasn't caused by any food.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, he whirled the coin between his fingers, before bringing it forwards, so they could both see it. The early morning rays caught on the precious metal and it was once again shiny and new. It brightened with the same pure light that had made man kill for it. It took Arthur's breath away. His heart sped up and he was once again back on the ship, swinging his sword and making his way towards the chest full of gold that lay in the Captain's room. He had been sure that Antonio would be there, waiting for him.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Antonio had been there, sitting on the wooden chest, one hand holding that crazy axe of his and around the other he had been twirling the chain of the key for the box. Not that he had needed the key to open it, but it had been a challenge. One he had lost.

"Isn't it beautiful, Antonio? Don't you miss it?" He asked and couldn't take his eyes off the little piece of metal. Arthur turned it, so Antonio would be able to see the sign "The gleam of gold and taste of blood?" He leaned forward, closer, feeling the other's breath brush over his face. So close, his hand slid around Antonio's neck, just a little bit more "Imperio Español" He breathed and…

Antonio laughed! The fucking moron was bloody laughing!

Arthur's hand squeezed around his captive's neck and the sound quickly turned into chokes and gasps for breath. He tightened his grip even more, anger seething inside of him harder and harder with every passing moment. Antonio wasn't defending, he didn't try pray his hands open or kick him. He just lay there. Arthur let go and slammed his fist on the table, besides the dark locks of the man beneath him.

"Breath. Breath. Breath."

Arthur leaned down and whispered in Antonio's ear:

"I hate you."

Before he could even finish the words he was on his back, with his hands pressed against the table.

"How can you say such a cruel thing, England?" Antonio asked cheerfully if a little breathy. His cheeks were red and his lips slightly open as he panted for breath. "Here I was hoping that we could forget our past and be friends."

Arthur sneered at those words. Forget the past? Be friends?! Who was this person?! Who was he talking with?!

He had Antonio on his back in an instant. He opened his mouth, right about to share exactly what he thought about friendship with the older male when two hands wrapped around his neck and someone blew hot breath in his ear.

Arthur swirled around and grabbed the newcomer by the hand, ready to knock them out, but his attacker had been ready. Pain shot through his hand and he was off the table, with his hands behind his back and pressed against a hard body. He tried kicking at the legs of the person, but he was already being pushed face first on the table with his legs spread wide.

"Let me fucking go, you bastard!" He screamed and twisted his hands, trying to free them from the strong hold.

"Aren't you feisty today, Arty?" Came a mocking voice from above him and Arthur froze.

"Gilbert!" Antonio exclaimed, before he got up from the table and was no longer in Arthur's line of vision.

"What should I do with him, Tonio? Hmmm? Feed him to Francis?"

Arthur sputtered.

"You do that and I'm going to send Russia after you! Gilbert!" He yelled, the slightest bit of panic, crawling into his voice as the mental image of France all over him invaded his untainted inner eye.

The grip that was holding him slackened immediately. Arthur turned around to glare at Gilbert.

"You're not even supposed to be here!"

"Ah, what, can I say? This place just needs awesomeness, ME!"

"Get out!"

"No." Gilbert crossed his arms and smirked at him.

"Gilbert, get out this instance or else…!"

"Else what?"

"Else Russia!" Arthur's lips tugged into a leer, showing just the right quantity of teeth.

Gilbert paled. His smirk faltered around the edge, he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Arthur's eyes adverted to Antonio who was snickering in his hand. He took a step towards the dark male and grabbed him by the hair. "I'm not done with you yet." He whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. Their eyes met and he could see the shiver that went through Antonio. Then he let go and headed for the door.

"Three seconds, Gilbert, a twinkle more and you shall become one with mother Russia!" He yelled over his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

Gilbert swallowed hard. He pointed at the door shakily "H-he was kidding, right? He wouldn't do that to his butto, r-right?" The white – head turned towards his friend and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight.

Antonio stood beside him wearing that same maniacal grin Gilbert had only heard legends about. The wide happy eyes had narrowed and gleamed dangerously.

"Arrthur misses me." It came out as a low purr and it sent a shiver down Gilbert's spine. "Should I fulfil his wish… for old, times sake, Gilbert?"

The man in question simply nodded, unable to speak under the pressure of those dark green eyes that were fixated upon him.

"Then it's decided!" Antonio smiled cheerfully, squeezed Gilbert in a bone-crushing hug and exited the room.

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Summoning the Britannia Angel wasn`t as easy as people claimed Antonio decided and slammed his glass on the desk next to him.

Wasn't the thing supposed to come whenever someone wished for something really badly? Well, he wanted to have another round against Arrthur. One more chase. He wanted it quite badly. No one could make his heart race as fast as Arrthur could. Pirate Arrthur, the man that could make you lose your mind from fear by simply existing. The Arrthur that had ruled the Seven seas.

"To His Greatness!" Antonio laughed and lifted his glass in a mock toast. He downed the grappa in one gulp. Or was it rum? He wasn't sure anymore.

The man leaned forward and traced his fingers on the axe that was currently lying on the desk. The blade cut through his rough skin and blood trickled down the cold metal.

"Arrthur…" he breathed before sucking his fingers clean and then wiping them in his pants.

He leaned back in his chair and pushed his hand in his pocket. A small piece of gold gleamed on the dim light. His fingers easily fell into the old movement and he played with it before flipping it in the air and slamming it on his tight.

"Imperio Español"

The worlds gleamed as if possessing a light on their own. He had managed to take it from Arthur when he had leaned to breathe his final words. Antonio smirked at the memory. "Right back at you." He thought.

Bright light flashed in the room and Antonio squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. When he opened them he couldn't see a thing. It took him a few moments to notice the person hovering in the middle of his study.

Antonio could do nothing but gape.

There stood the Britannia Angel in all of its glory. Arthur in a dress… Arthur in a short, white dress, revealing his legs that looked suspiciously soft.

"I've come to fulfil your wish." The Angel said and Antonio stared. He could never in a million years imagine that he would hear this voice coming out of this mouth. It was soft, polite and most certainly caring. Antonio wanted to vomit.

Bright green eyes looked at him expectantly. "How may I be of service?" The Angel repeated and Antonio cleared his throat, trying to recover from his shock and failing.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his tongue. He tried again and this time he actually managed to utter a few words.

"Turn back the time." He said. "Bring Arrthur and I back to 1585. Back to the War that never happened."

The Angel looked carefully at him, before replaying slowly. "I can't do that. I can not under any circumstances endanger time and lives."

Antonio's shoulders sagged. So much for this plan… Guess he had to actually dig out those magic books from his basement and look for something useful.

"There is something else that I can do for you, though." The Angel spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "But remember those words Spanish Empire "Oh, wonderful moment come to a halt!" and say them when you are done living in your fantasy."

Antonio was blinded by another flash of light. Suddenly the whole world spun beneath his feet. He choked as the strong smell of burned wood and gunpowder filled his nostrils.

He immediately opened his eyes and sure enough he was standing on a ship in the middle of nowhere. Cannon fire echoed into the night, followed by the screams of the dying and wounded. The world shook again and he stumbled sideway, something heavy dragging him to the right. He caught the thing and swung it. He would have recognized the deadly weapon anywhere. His beloved axe, his Maricel.

His eyes swept over his surroundings. The ship he was currently on was being boarded by another one. Hooks connected the two as people jumped from one to the other. On the light of the fire he could see the black flag, bones dancing with each blow of the wind. A sour smile spread on his face. Of course the Spanish ship was the one getting boarded. It was the Britannia Angel after all.

God forbid Arrthur be pure and innocent in any way or form…

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