"And what do you plan to do now?"
The figure glowered from the warping shadows cast by the flashing orange firelight, the vicious ruination serving as the backdrop to the captain's wrath. His first mate stood silent at his side, eyes of gold flickering an almost poisonous yellow hue in the glow of the blaze. They bore over the injured nation, and yet-
Both sailors knew they were defeated.
The captain nodded to his charge, who strode forward, the unfitting coldness in his youthful features somehow coloring him even more fearsome and intimidating than his superior. The young Asian seized Indonesia by the collar as another explosion went off at the rear of the junk, and heaved him up with deceptive strength as the commanding sailor approached.
"Now, I leave you to get out of this burning wreck on your own. But make no mistake," threatened the captain. "I'm hardly through."
With that, the first mate dropped Indonesia and both pirates departed, leaving the battered man to escape the rapidly deteriorating junk.
"Ai-ya, Hong Kong! What are you doing, aru?"
The child looked up from the text, holding it up; China frowned in distaste at seeing the character měng in the heading. "Reading," he answered simply.
His mentor sighed. "You know you're not allowed down here on your own, aru," he scolded, though the reprimand was not without a note of affection (however exasperated it was). Hong Kong blinked indifferently up at China before replacing his readings back in their rightful place amongst the rest of the archives. The sound of footsteps down the hall approached rapidly, bare feet on glossy wood, and another child swung themselves on the edge of the doorway in their haste to enter the archival room.
"Teacher!" Taiwan called breathlessly, drawing China's attention to the entrance.
"Meimei," he acknowledged with a smile, bending down to scoop her up into surprisingly strong arms. She clung to his crimson robes, heaving with her excited breathing. "What is it, aru?"
"India says those pirates are bothering her again," Taiwan said with a pout. Hong Kong stared up at the pair, eyebrows twitching marginally as if to furrow.
China's smile faltered slightly, and he adjusted his grip on Taiwan, one hand raising to stroke her hair. "I'm not surprised, aru. The West has been becoming much more bold lately." They think they have the right to the world, after all. They've not seen a real pirate. "-wait, you visited India, aru?"
"She's just next door!" defended Taiwan with a pout, curling into the silk of China's shirt, no doubt in a hopeful effort not to be scolded.
The eldest nation breathed another sigh, smoothing a hand down Taiwan's hair and that errant curl that he could never seem to persuade to stay flat with the rest. "Yes," he conceded reluctantly, before the justification, "You are an island, Taiwan; you have to be careful, aru. Those barbarians are always looking for new ports to raid." His intention wasn't to frighten her, far from it; but he didn't want his charges to end up as pirate havens, especially not for the foreign mud.
"I hear they bring women onto their ships and do things to them," Hong Kong interjected in an unenthusiastic tone. "Or just knock them out and take them outside. And they throw bombs and axes into all the buildings, then take back the weapons from the bodies they're stuck in-"
China gave the other of his territories a warning glance, which Hong Kong received with apparent indifference. Taiwan shivered from fright in his arms. Far be it from him to correct Hong Kong on his assumptions - for all China knew, the child could be right. He'd put nothing past the Westerners. But, scaring Taiwan for the simple purpose of scaring Taiwan was enough to warrant a stop to the stories.
"Everything will be alright, Meimei," the eldest consoled, sighing and cradling the girl closer to him. "I won't let anything happen to you, aru."
The small island sniffed, hugging China tightly. "Thank you, Teacher."
The eldest smiled fondly. It was funny; the two smaller Chinese territories called him "Teacher", but they treated him more like a big brother. He didn't mind, though. Especially not with how Japan treated their relationship - it was nice to have someone (who wasn't Korea) value his attention.
Well.
It was nice to have someone value his attention who didn't also want to invade him or exploit him for resources.
That was just a tad bit different.
It wasn't long after China had promised to protect Taiwan that a move was made in determination of forcing him to break his word. The world seemed to be conspiring against him lately - did it hold a grudge against the Middle Kingdom for refusing to buckle under the constant shifting in the paradigm of the Earth?
Well, considering who he was dealing with, China wouldn't have been surprised if a grudge played a part in his assailant's motivations.
"Japan!" shouted China from the bow of the ship, nearly tossing himself over the railing in a futile effort to snatch the frightened Taiwan out from behind Japan. Even as the other fully-matured Asian looked on impassively, China's younger territory heard him well and clear, and darted out from her hiding place to run towards the railing.
"Teacher!" she cried, desperately avoiding the struggles going on around her in a way that made China wish she hadn't moved from her safe position.
"Meimei, don't-!"He had already seized the closest loose rope and pushed himself atop the rail when he swore his age-old heart stopped, just for the briefest of moments. A stray blade caught Taiwan over the shoulder, enough to alarm Japan into drawing his sword. As the rival Eastern power began to maneuver his way through the throng, China kicked off of the edge of the boat and closed the short distance between the two ships with one magnificent swing.
He landed with a thud behind the sobbing Taiwan, collapsed with one hand against the wooden bars and the other clutching her bleeding shoulder. "Meimei," China whispered, falling unceremoniously to his knees to scoop up the injured territory with arms that had not yet lost their strength. At the same moment that a blast rocked the ship and an uproar took root amongst the enemy crew, China felt the delicate pressure of the point of a blade against his back; the scar ached. He knew the placement of the sword was no accident.
"Leave, or we will all go down with this ship, aru," said the eldest nation to the little brother he knew was behind him. Already there were cries of flooding and sinking from Japan's pirates.
The world seemed to still in the time that Japan took to make his decision. But eventually, the katana was removed. Soon after, China found himself being thrown a line.
Taiwan was his again.
He never questioned if the edge that scarred her belonged to Japan's men or one of his own.
It was a few decades after he recovered Taiwan that China was approached, much to his surprise, by a country he would have been content with never meeting in the long span of his entire life.
"I come to formally request the opening of trade between China and England," said the thick-browed man with a deep, reverent bow. "…that is, you and I. Neither of us are without things that would benefit the other - together, we could rule the seas."
The Oriental power stared at the younger country, not without a hint of awe at his brevity. He'd already successfully managed to irritate the Ming authorities with his approach in Macao, and now he had the audacity to request this of the world's oldest surviving civilization, as if he were an equal?
"I apologize that you had to travel all this way, aru," China said, tipping England's head upwards with the assistance of two fingers. Green unlike any pair of eyes that had ever come about in his homeland shone up at him, thick with anticipation. "But I will have to decline." He had made it all these centuries well enough on his own; he didn't see why it was so difficult for others to be self-sufficient.
England shied away from his touch, straightening. "…I see. Thank you for your time, then."
He and his men departed, much to China's immense relief.
But China didn't pretend not to be aware when small bouts of fighting and smuggling broke out along the Bogue.
From what China heard of the world outside, Spain just seemed to be the eternal chew toy of Europe, especially of the French and the British. Shortly after his rejection of England, word spread that Spain's colonies in the New World ("New World", what a joke, China had explored those lands centuries ago) were being harassed. In spite of Spain being part of the filthy Western world, China was sympathetic, honestly. He knew how it felt to lose control over your children at the hands of someone else.
Especially when pirates were involved.
Now, in the aftermath of Spain's war of succession, England had seized the glowing laurels of opportunity and had taken to aggravating the Caribbean. China was hardly surprised. Europe was full of treasure-mongering tyrants. He was almost ashamed to know as much as he did about the current affairs outside.
But, he didn't know as much without reason.
England was in the Caribbean, yes. The ancient civilization could care less about their affairs.
But England was also in the Indian Ocean, hellbent on acquiring the rarities of the East; and that, China found, was far too close for him to rest comfortably at night.
He could feel it, sometimes. His whole body got lighter and his thoughts became more disconnected, to say nothing of the intense times that made even his vision swim, so that his officials questioned him when he suddenly groped along the closest solid object for support.
The trade was starting to pick up.
China stayed away from the drugs, himself. But a nation was its people. When things became widespread, he knew.
The day that he almost collapsed in the company of his emperor, enough was enough.
He couldn't take it anymore. If this was going to continue, it was going to be on his own terms. He was going to show the West what a real pirate looked like.
"Orders, Captain?"
China's attention was not on the quivering underling that requested his presence from the deck, nor on the fact that technically he should really be called "Commodore", but rather fixed with venomous intent on the British ensign flying innocently over the vessel in the distance. His grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw set in anger. "Give no quarter, aru," he answered coldly, to an immediate telephoning of the response from one crewmember to another until the news was being proclaimed loudly and excitedly along the entire small fleet.
He watched as his underling junks began to move forward. They advanced menacingly on the other ship, wind propelling them forwards at a speed that the British boat couldn't hope to outrun. As soon as they were within range, his men began to fire. Shrapnel flew satisfyingly from the sides of his enemy's vessel, the well-glossed wood exploding into thousands of useless splinters beneath the hapless crew's feet with beautiful cracks and crunches.
China watched the destruction smugly, one hand on the wheel and the other against the dao at his hip. He was going to hear about this from England, no doubt.
"Captain," one of the his crewmates interjected from his side. The brunet turned to look at him, the silk of his ornate headgear gleaming in the sunlight. "Signal says they found opium aboard. They're collecting it as we speak."
"Good, aru," China complemented dismissively, returning his gaze to the now flaming wreckage that used to be a boat. "Here is hoping they can take it all before it sinks. It would be a sad waste otherwise, aru."
He received a letter soon after that, reprimanding him for the wanton destruction of the business vessel. Not that such was a surprise, considering his actions. It was penned in English and signed elegantly by one "Arthur Kirkland"; Mister Kirkland didn't have much significance to the everyday soldier, but the higher-ups knew that there was no Mister Kirkland - only the United Kingdom.
"Burn it," China directed nonchalantly, unsure of which he wanted to be rid of faster, the signature or the disturbingly familiar smell of opium smoke on the parchment. "As far as he is concerned, that letter never made it to me, aru."
The loud clattering of plump raindrops assaulting the lacquered wood surrounded them, a persistent buzz shrouding the cacophony that blasted forth from the brawling crew members and muffling most of the shouts, be they of scorn or of pain. The shrill singing of blades clashing rose largely above the storm, each sword producing sounds as sharp as its edge.
A longsword halted the downwards slash of the gleaming dao with a loud clang; China recycled the rebounded momentum into a horizontal chop, which was also stopped in its tracks. This time, China pushed his dao against the other blade, grinding it into the flat of the longsword.
"You must feel quite pleased with yourself," remarked England. He eyed China from head to toe, taking in the drenched leathers and silks as well as the dripping silver and jade jewelry hung like ornaments anywhere that they could keep their grip. "You must have been hunting this opportunity for some time."
"I won't feel pleased with myself until I see your head roll, ahen," returned China, pulling back for another swing. Their swords met between them again, the rings rising and falling over the words exchanged between blows. "You probably think you're quite clever, ahen, to be bypassing my trade laws like this." He swept out a foot to try and trip England, but the European simply sidestepped with a flourish, doling out a swing that China ducked to avoid.
"And you resent me for it? From the way our shipments keep disappearing, it seems to be one of your favorite indulgences," England argued simply, toeing out of the way as China surged upwards from his crouching position for yet another attempt to take a chunk out of him. "Showing yourself off to be offended by this trade when you yourself are an outlaw; you're quite the little hypocrite."
China's face drew in on itself in a challenging glare. "You're just bitter," he started, "that I control these seas, ahen; better than you ever did."
The island's eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together. He snapped out his arm for a quick slash, but China saw it coming a mile away from the affront clearly written across the empire's countenance. "Do you, now? Strange; here I thought that even your pirates were becoming ineffectual when pitted against the high of their favorite drug." He scoffed, pointedly glancing to the tiny fleet of pirate junks peppering the area surrounding his single ship. "Either my men have forgotten how to count in their reports, or your fleet has been steadily decreasing in size all this time," he bit out, voice clipped and curt. "You can't keep this up forever."
"I'm going to stop you, ahen," the Easterner interrupted hastily, trying to quell the shaky feeling seizing his thoughts at the idea that his control was slipping. "I will stop you and this filthy trade."
England smirked bitterly. "We'll see."
The control was rapidly slipping from his fingers. Soon, the only ship he had at his disposal was his own; he was informed, rather anticlimactically during one of his highs, that it was stolen by a ragtag bunch of two-bit smugglers and consequently wrecked along a rocky shore. China couldn't have brought himself to care even if he wanted to.
By sometime in October (his perception of dates was as fogged as the rest of his mind), the fighting had officially started. And yet, he could barely feel it. The bloodshed, the gunshots, the death (the death of his people), it was all secondary to the pleasant numbness stretched over his body in place of his normal skin.
All he really remembered were treaties (Nanjing, Wangxia, Whampoa, the Bogue - England probably thought himself so clever, reflecting back to those waters). He remembered losing Hong Kong.
That was the day China knew that his was no longer the only hand guiding his destiny.
The second war crept up on him like an animate shadow. He never expected that arresting a few smugglers would bring England to his shores yet again; it took all of his willpower not to spit in the younger empire's face when he saw the blond at the docks, stepping off of his vessel and onto Chinese soil as if he were some grand king. His strides spoke wonders about his opinion of himself, as well as his opinion of China. Clearly, he thought that having Hong Kong entitled him to the rest of this land. Imperialism was the order of the age, after all.
The Middle Kingdom was loathe to remind him that having one island didn't give you the right to the mainland. And, thought the eldest civilization, it certainly does not give you reign over my seas.
Most of the fighting was done on the waters and coasts. Perhaps England knew. Maybe the blood of a pirate still coursed thick within him - it wasn't that long ago that he'd had to hang up his glitz and glamour, and the taste of power is never as sweet as it is when coupled with the adrenaline that comes from clawing yourself to a place above the law.
China looked to the trunk beside his wardrobe and sighed. He knew that, somewhere deep within the confines of that trunk, mildewed silks and chipped jade rested within, still thick with the smell of old rain, metal, and likely the lingering scent of salt and brine.
He was no longer fit to be a captain; the evidence was in the dust settled along the lock of the box.
He pictured Hong Kong. Perhaps, wherever he was, he was giving that opium bastard trouble. He had certainly been skilled at it when he was at home. Lighting off fireworks, sneaking into the archives, getting into the liquor, peeking under Taiwan's skirt...
China laughed, picturing Hong Kong trying to pull any of this at England's house.
He was jealous of Hong Kong's spirit.
Another glance was cast towards the trunk, very aware of the garments within.
Give them hell, Teacher. Would he say something like that?
The eldest nation stood from his desk to kneel at the trunk. If he was going to go down, he could at least do it fighting, he supposed.
"Sir," murmured one of his soldiers. England turned to him. "We got another one. Caught them trying to pull a fast one on us from the mouth of the river."
The isle scoffed. "Honestly, if they wish to engage us on the waters, they can send their navy," he remarked sourly. "Any prisoners?"
"Two. There was a third, but we saw him throw himself overboard, sir," replied the officer.
"Interrogate them," England directed. How pathetic. If those pirates were going to attack warships, especially British ones, they should have been prepared to follow through with the consequences. "I'll be in my quarters." He left his men with that, carrying himself confidently to his cabin and pulling the door shut behind him.
The United Kingdom seated himself at his charts, eyeing the outline of the Bogue on his map. With deliberation, he made a mark in ink over their current location; yet another stray pirate junk. They were awfully determined to pit themselves against his naval forces, it seemed. He had to wonder if their motivations were selfish, or if they considered themselves rogue freedom fighters against the foreign mud.
The thought made him chuckle. China always had fancied himself a pirate. Maybe the drug-addled nation was orchestrating all of this.
As if China could even think that clearly, with how often he was high.
Another chuckle brought him back to his work. It was a crying shame, really. China would have made a beautiful addition to his empire; to be throwing tantrums like this was unfitting of his elegance. There was just something about Asia, England mused. India still fought him to this day. Perhaps it was something in the water.
England almost laughed again.
But the sudden awareness of a sword at your throat can suddenly make the world much less funny.
The isle mentally cursed, trying to decide if he should blame himself for being distracted or the other nation for being so light on his toes. "And here I thought you'd jumped overboard," noted the blond dryly, careful not to move too much against the coldness of the dao.
"You'd be surprised at all the little trinkets you can catch yourself on, ahen," China reflected. "Give me one reason I shouldn't just kill you right now."
The curve of England's mouth was halfway between a smirk and a grimace. "Because you know it's not that easy," was the answer. "I should think you're in the more likely position to die right now."
He couldn't see China's face, but he was sure it was twisted into a sneer as the Oriental seized his hair, forcing his head back to expose more of his neck and catch a glimpse of the countenance of his assailant. "You don't know anything!" he accused, his captain's garb doing very little to hide the wavering of his voice.
"Don't I? You're losing this war, aren't you? Your government is in turmoil as well. I would say the stage is set."
"It's your fault!" interjected China sharply, yanking England's hair and granting him a pinch in his neck for the trouble. "I'll never bow to you, ahen! My land - my seas - they're mine," he asserted, punctuating it with another tug. "I belong to no one, least of all you, ahen!"
At this point, England's only worry was that in the process of allowing his composure to crumble, China would forget he currently had a very pointy object aimed at a very important body part and would inadvertently slit something open. The island knew he wouldn't die even if that happened, but if anything was a pain in the ass to let heal, it was an injury designed to kill a human. "I would quiet down if I were you," he advised. "The crew is going to hear you if you keep shouting."
He saw China's face flicker from rage to indignity, his jaw set against some effort to hide another emotion. "I hate you, ahen," claimed the ancient country. Like lightning, he drew the blade over the front of England's throat, cutting the skin (but little else). Roughly, he threw the other nation's head back to its normal position, emphasizing it with another, "I hate you."
"So you say, Captain," mocked England in a grumble, pressing his hand to the bleeding cut on his neck so as to not drip onto the documents on his desk. "I'll have the treaties drafted by next week. I'll be surprised if you last that long."
He didn't have to look to know that China was gone.
In 1860, they met again at the Convention of Peking, with not a sliver of salt-crusted jade to be found on China's body. They said nothing to each other, but it wasn't really necessary.
When you hear "I hate you" once, you've heard it a hundred times.
Notes: Invasion of Java: The Mongols invaded the Indonesian island of Java in 1293. With artistic license, Mongolia is depicted as a pirate captain with China as his first mate in this story.
měng: One of the Chinese characters that makes up "Mongolia".
Occupation of Taiwan: In the 1500s, Taiwan was a haven for Japanese pirates. In early 1603, China was able to drive the Japanese pirates out and recapture Taiwan.
Anglo-Chinese relations: First direct contact happened in 1637, when Captain John Wendell led four ships into Macao back by a private group led by Sir William Courteen in the interest of opening trade with China. They are opposed by Portuguese authorities in Macao and aggravate the Ming authorities. They then capture one of the forts along the Bogue later in the summer, but are driven out.
Golden Age of Piracy: Can refer to one of three periods; the two addressed in the story are respectively characterized by Anglo-French buccaneering in 1650-1680, followed by the period of 1716-1726 after the War of Spanish Succession in which unemployed Anglo-American sailors turned en masse to piracy.
The opium trade: The 18th century marked the beginning of the opium trade in China, despite the Qing government's protests and later prohibition of opium except for medicinal purposes.
Piracy in China: Piracy in China hit its peak between 1800 and 1820, largely falling out nineteen years before the First Opium War began in 1839.
First Opium War: Officially started in 1839 and ended in 1842 with the Treaty of Nanjing, which opened Chinese ports to British trade and ceded the island of Hong Kong to the British government. Largely marked the end of China's isolation and the beginning of modern Chinese history.
Second Opium War: Began in 1856 and ended in 1860 with the Treaty of Tientsin. The aim was much the same as the First Opium War: to open up China to further European trade. During the Second Opium War, rogue Chinese pirate junks often fought with the British forces.
Convention of Peking: Where the Treaty of Tientsin was ratified.
Treaty of Nanjing: Between Britain and China. Ended the First Opium War.
Treaty of the Bogue: Between Britain and China. Supplemented the Treaty of Nanjing.
Treaty of Wangxia: Between the United States and China. Modeled after the Treaty of Nanjing, opened Chinese ports to American trade and abolished the law prohibiting foreigners from learning Chinese.
Treaty of Whampoa: Between France and China. Modeled after the Treaty of Nanjing, and granted the same benefits to France that were granted to Britain in the Treaty of Nanjing.
A/N: oh my god long historical notes. sorry. this was definitely supposed to be a lot more piratey than it turned out to be. ): whoops. i don't really like the progression, and around the part with Taiwan i had to figure out how to rail it back to emphasis on England and China (which i don't think i did very well). this is also part of a trade and it is very late, so not only is it lame, it is hardly punctual, and for this i am sorry. i am also sorry if my timeline is hard to grasp, because lord knows i was pretty damn confused while i was figuring it out.
oh well. maybe next time i will suck less. hope you enjoyed, regardless!