[I am aware Spain beat England as much as much as England beat Spain.]
Constructive criticism is always welcome!
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!
Some things never really do leave you, no matter how many times you try to leave them behind. Everyone does things that they aren't proud of. I guess in those days we were all young and stupid, stuck in the magic of the present without regard to the effects it would have on the tomorrow. Blood tasted good. Power tasted better.
I was Arthur Kirkland, a mighty pirate who concurred many lands and acquired many possessions... nobody ever questioned my authority and those against me wanted my head on a spike. That was the way it should have been. That is how I had learnt to deal with it.
Something had changed with that one word 'forgive'. It wasn't something I had heard outside the confines of worship but that slurred Spanish voice had it ringing in my ears and it wouldn't shift.
The man stood below me, his head bowed so that his scraggly fringe hid his glistening eyes. "Antonio…" I muttered, lifting his face up with the toe of my boot "…look at me when I am talking to you."
Still he focused his eyes on the corner of the cabin and gritting his teeth as he barely spat out 'I would rather die' in his native tongue. It made me angry, to think that one in such an unpleasant predicament would still be so disobedient but I knew him not to expect anything different, I leaned down to his level; gripping his jaw to that he had no choice but lock eyes with me. "You do what I tell you to because I beat you… From now on I will always beat you. You aren't owning me or my people again."
He spat at me, spraying my face with droplets of blood from his cut up cheeks and lips. "Stop pretending you are so moral. You are just as bloodthirsty and angry as me. Just as distraught... but it is okay. I forgive you."
"Oh really now?" I smirked sadly, wiping the blood away from my lips with the back of my hand and at the same time, ripping the delicate cross from his neck, snapping the gold chain.
He squirmed away, ripping his face to the right side and away from me. "I do… I always will but God, you better pray He is as forgiving as your Queen claims He is."
I laughed but there was nothing behind it. The dark cabin of his ship was only made drearier by the claret and musky purple furnishings that should have made it much more lavish. I stared at the bottle of wine in many hand, waiting for it to slip from my grip in my drunken state.
Only days previously, I had defeated the Spanish's first round of fire and I had stood so strong… but now could even my enemies see me as strong? Notorious Captain Kirkland, feared pirate and ruler of the British Empire who apparently spent his days sat in a dark room, emptying bottle after bottle until looking in the mirror became somewhat bearable.
The dark was driving me mad! No… his words were driving me mad! Even the worn curtains where a quiet torment… the fabric still stained with Spanish blood, serving as a reminder to what power can do; power, greed and pride.
I raised the broken chain to my eyelevel, looking at the light shining of the religious icon. I felt small, I was being crushed and I couldn't get away.
I broke my view of the carpet, which I was becoming less and less fond of the longer I looked at it, to look out across the conference table for the first time the entire meeting, trying to distract my mind for those times without success.
It was July again… the worst month for reminiscing on old times although I was becoming more distracted by the French bastard next to me, glancing at me in a daunting way. It didn't matter, for the first time ever… anything that took my mind off both the hyper-active Alfred in front of us and the somewhat tense Antonio who sat just across the table from Francis, next to his Lovino with this gaze set on Roderich.
It made me itch, jealously swelling in my throat.
There was so much to say… too much to say.
My chest felt like it was filling with thick fluid, like it had in my pirate years, sat alone in my cabin covered in Spanish blood and when I had stood on the battlefield with my beloved Alfred, covered in the American's. My eyes did too, thinking about it. I suddenly became more aware of Francis staring at me… not glancing after all – staring.
I looked into my tea-cup, desperate to get my thoughts back under my own control before I lost control when the meeting finally ended. Antonio stood with his back to us out in the gardens, Lovino and Roderich with him as I approached.
The words I had planned to say had already started to dissolve as I stepped closer, thrown off guard by Roderich who looked up with slightly watery eyes. I couldn't feel any concern for the other man's well-being, only seeing him being chased after by Antonio as he walked away filled me with something… that same jealously and hurt, like being passed over for a promotion.
I grabbed his wrist and my words froze in my throat as he glanced up at me, eyes reflecting all of that anguish right back.
"How can you look at me?" I muttered under my breath. "Please. I need to know how... how could you forgive me?"
He shrugged, looking back in the direction Roderich had run "Sometimes I wonder the same thing… how any of them can forgive us." …and he was gone.
Vaguely aware of someone standing behind me as I spun around to Francis' waiting hand. I wanted… no, I needed a drink. At the end of the day, it always ended with alcohol.