Alright. Let's get this thing crack-a-lackin'. I've been working on this for a while on my school laptop. I even had a few chapters finished. Sadly, before I had enough courage to start uploading it, my home laptop crashed. *sad face*
Anyways, I'm totes excited for this. I'd like to thank Kels and Sean for proof reading this bad boy for me. Also, I'd like to thank some naval websites- though I don't know their name by heart- for supplying what my Mom didn't know about the Royal Navy.
Warnings for this story: Gore, yaoi, blood, cursing, and sailors.
Warnings for this chapter: there's a bad word. That's just about it.
It was a warm June day in the port. Many people lolled around, each gawking at the magnificent boat that was aloft in the bay. Sailors of all ages were up on the wooden deck, all at attention. They stood proud and merciless- just like their ship. The people from the region have never seen anything much bigger than a merchant ship; this goliath awed them. Children gaped on how big it was. Women gossiped about unheard battles which were- rumor had it- being kept from the public knowledge. Men lined up to enlist in the navy.
For one thing, this magnificent boat was a battle ship. The sixty-four cannons could easily terrify any amateur sailor. However, it was the woman on the bow that sent shivers down the spines of every man who came across the HMS Hetalia. Her skin was made out of white gold- which was more precious than yellow gold, mind you- giving her a ghostly appearance. Her hair appeared to be a reddish brown, only because the last bloodshed was weeks ago. Upon her lips were blood red rubies, each reflecting brilliantly in the sunlight. From the waist down, she sprouted a tail. Emeralds and Sapphires were strategically placed to catch the eyes of covetous women. This, of course, wasn't the frightening part of the maiden. It was her eyes that struck fear in the heart of any man. They were deep and dark; the black diamonds were known to drive people mad. This had spooked so many sailors, that a new form of punishment was to stand on the bowline and bore into the eyes that were said to see through souls. Most men jumped, rather facing death by their own ship than this punishment. The captain didn't approve.
There was an old wooden desk in the mist of the crowd in the port. A single line of young men trailed in front of it. On a wooden stool behind the desk sat a very plump man. He wore a neatly trimmed uniform, a dainty powdered wig, and a look of disapproval. He scowled for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day when Feliciano Vargas approached the desk.
"Name?" the plump man asked dully. This was the twenty-third man, right? Perhaps the twenty-fourth? He was growing annoyed with the vapid task of finding new recruits.
"V-Vargas. Feliciano Vargas, sir." Feliciano answered. He probably wouldn't have stuttered, but he was on the run. Escaping can't be this easy… He thought to himself. Sweat slowly ran from his neck to his back. His hands shook vigorously.
"Age?" the man asked as he sized up Feliciano, and then shook his head. The boy could barely past for fourteen with that baby face. He was just skin and bones, but- the man thought grudgingly- who wouldn't be? He's probably just another street urchin with no idea of his next meal. Those damn orphans keep multiplying every time you turn around.
"Sixteen."
The man scribbled this down, laid down his feather pen in ink, and eyed Feliciano. The boy, beginning feeling uncomfortable, folded his arms against his chest. The plump man sighed, and leaned back. He rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb while looking thoughtfully at Feliciano.
"Well," he finally said, "can ye read?"
Feliciano smiled broadly at this. "Yes, Nonno taught me."
"What's an Italian," the man recognizing the foreign word, and instinctively questioning, "doing signing up for His Majesty's Royal Navy?"
The smile instantly dissolved, but the sly boy remained his composure. "I want to serve His Majesty, sir."
"What else," the man asked, "can ye do?"
"I can read, write, clean, mend clothes, cook, and learn, sir."
The man grunted. It wasn't much of disapproval than it was approval. Nevertheless, he nodded. He slid the paper around for Feliciano to see and read clearly. Handing him the feather, he told the boy to sign on the line. The boy did as he was told, and the document was snatched up swiftly by the man.
The plump man grunted, and then stated, "You are now a cabin boy in His Majesty's Royal Navy. You are to learn the regulations and rules by those appointed over you. You will obey the orders given to you, even if they are dangerous. You may die, boy. The navy is a serious thing; wipe that smile off your face. Are ye ready to sail the world, lad?"
Feliciano dully nodded. The recruit was then guided to the deck. He looked upon the faces of the sailors, but none returned his gaze. They were all emotionless statues, immune to any disturbance. He shivered, for he knew he would –in a few moments- become lifeless like them. He stood askew to the formation until someone with a decorated chest ordered him to find a spot.
He scrambled for a spot, and then mimicked the frozen state of the men who surrounded him. However, having a short attention span, he found it hard to stay still. His ear itched. His palms sweated. His eyes yearned for something- anything- to distract them. A fly buzzed around his field of vision. It flew hastily until it landed next to Feli- on someone's nose.
He glanced sideways at the boy. The boy didn't budge. Feliciano bit his lip to hide his laughter. He felt pity for the poor Aryan boy. It still was funny, though. Especially when he could see the Aryan's jaw jutting forward, clearly disturbed. The fly, somehow sensing safety in the seriousness of it all, was still.
Once they were called at ease, the Aryan cursed and swatted at the fly while Feliciano laughed heartily. The Aryan glared at Feliciano. Fierce blue eyes met warm brown ones, and Feli bit his lip again. He looked away, feeling conflicted.
The plump man returned with a uniformed man who wore a crooked smile. Eli, the midshipman had introduced himself as, was the name. Bright green eyes lit up under his long bangs. His short, wavy hair was the dirtiest of blondes. He showed Feliciano and Ludwig- that was the Aryan's name- around the ship and to their sleeping cabins. Eli handed them well-worn dark green bags. They each got a hammock, but they did not get the luxury of a private room. Three other cabin boys slept in that room after an uneventful dinner.
It was in the middle of the night when Feliciano was officially welcomed in. He had woken up suddenly by a scratching noise. He sat up in such haste that it had sent him tumbling to the wooden floor. The older cabin boys noticed his clumsiness and laughed.
"Welcome to the HMS Hetalia," an apathetic voice said to the scared Italian, "where if the rats don't get ye, Arthur's food will."
[A/N] Short first chapter is short. It had to be. My others will definitely be longer.
So, I have been doing a lot of homework on this one. This is my first Hetalia story (note: not my first; I had an account on here that was sadly deleted by mein mutti.). I've been desperate to type anything, and I suddenly found some inspiration. Anybody heard of the book "Bloody Jack" by L.A. Meyer? It is a marvelous story, and a well-written series. It inspired me to write a fanfiction like this one. Also my enrollment in Naval Sea Cadet Corps kind of motivated me.
Obviously, this is a naval story. If you haven't picked it up yet (I'm sure you will have by in the next chapter) it is around the nineteenth century. Though the HMS Hetalia was not a real ship, His Majesty's Royal Navy was very real back then. It was –in fact- the most powerful naval power in the world at that time. Go Engrand!
What's the bad news? Since my laptop crashed, I lost a lot of my documents. Of those documents lost was this story. I decided that I wanted to be impatient. Updates will most definitely be uncoordinated and unexpected, that is unless I finish it up before my "personal deadline". I deeply apologize in advance for any heart attacks due to over-anticipations. I always was the heart-breaker.
Translation:
Nonno- Grandpa (Italian)
Like the story? Follow it! Want to see some amazing GerIta or Hetalia videos? Check out my youtube channel. I'm ItalysWifeMab. I'm not half bad, either.
Please review!