AN: okay... So the original idea was for this to be a one-shot, but I was getting a bit frustrated with the battle and I thought that maybe posting it in separate chapters would give me more perspective (and getting feedback will probably encourage me to keep going) so that's what I did.
I'll be adding some notes (the numbers between brackets) to explain some things that couldn't be explained in the narration or I simply didn't want to add to the story but that are worth mentioning.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (if I did, there'd be a whole season dedicated just to this battle)
Hope you like it! n_n
ENGLAND
As much as it hurt to admit it, it couldn't be denied that Spain had the world at his feet. Even after losing control on Portugal and his colonies, even after having had to give up his territories in South Italy and Flanders, even after having suffered the most during his succession war, the Spanish Empire was still standing, tall and proud, with territories in every continent, and it didn't seem to matter how much other nations tried to bring him down.
England really hated the guy.
It was time for him to fall, and he knew where to strike.
Everybody knew that all the gold and silver that were extracted from the American mines were sent to Spain once a year, when an impressive fleet crossed the Atlantic carrying the precious cargo. The ships left from the fortified city of Cartagena, in the Virreinato of New Granada(1), where all that was to be shipped was stocked throughout the whole year. That single city was the key to the whole Spanish Empire: if it fell, it was only a matter of time for the rest of the empire to collapse. Which is why it was heavily fortified, and why England became dead set on conquering it.
"You wanted to see me, Sire?" someone said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He turned and saw a man standing on the door of his cabin, waiting for permission to come in. "Ah, Admiral," he motioned for him to enter. "When do you plan to attack Cartagena? We've spent quite some time attacking many other places. Not that I don't enjoy cannoning Spanish cities, but it's like trying to harm a giant with a toothpick."
"I was about to give the order to head to Cartagena, Sire," Admiral Edward Vernon answered. "These last successful attacks have lifted the men's spirits; they're all ready to fight and win for you."
England smirked. Oh, Spain was about to fall, and he had been waiting for that moment for such a long time… Failure wasn't an option.
"Is Lieutenant Wentworth aware?"
"Aye."
"You enrolled soldiers from the colonies as well, didn't you?"
"Indeed. Almost three thousand." He paused for a moment. "I'll have them attack from land as a distraction while the ships bomb the city."
"They'll be cannon fodder," England understood. He vaguely thought that Alfred wouldn't be too happy about it, but didn't pay much attention to it. "Well then. Set sail to Cartagena — let's crush the Spanish Empire!"
SPAIN
His horse neighed, impatient, as the city doors were opened for them. Spain patted his neck, soothing, and looked to his right, were Blas de Lezo struggled to maintain balanced on his horse — which isn't easy to do with a wooden leg.
He was a man worthy of admiration. He had lost in battle his left leg, right arm and left eye, and yet he remained in the Armada. Mediohombre, they called him. Half-man. Not mockingly, but with admiration: he hadn't lost a single battle he had commanded.
Yes, Spain knew that, if there was one man who should command the defence of Cartagena de Indias, that was Blas de Lezo.
The doors finally opened and they rode inside the city. There were many waiting for them, and Spain was pleased to see New Granada on the first line. He reached him and got off the horse, immediately hugging his colony.
"You've grown up," he noted, smiling at him.
"Not too much. It's just that it's been too long since you last visited."
Spain pouted at the reproach. "I've been busy!" he protested. "I can't visit you all on a regular basis!"
"I know," New Granada laughed. "I was just teasing you. Come, I'll show you to your room."
He ordered his men to escort and give accommodation to the men that had come with Spain and then walked away, the European quickly following him.
"Your room is right next to mine," he informed as they walked through the corridors. "It's one of the most comfortable rooms of the entire fort; and it has some impressive views. Although— you're going to be busy with other things, I'm afraid."
His voice shook slightly at those last words, and Spain didn't miss it. He waited until they walked into his room, though, and they weren't going to be seen or heard by anyone to mention it.
"Are you scared?" he asked, leaving his halberd resting against the wall and dropping his read coat on the bed. When New Granada didn't answer, he walked to him and hugged him. "There's nothing to be afraid of—"
"I am frightened," the colony finally admitted, interrupting him. "How can I not be? They say England has sent the biggest fleet mankind has ever seen, and we are so few! You've brought very few men with you."
Understanding, Spain sat on the bed, forcing New Granada to sit beside him, and let him rest his head on his shoulder. "Don't be scared. I'm here." He pressed a kiss to his hair, rubbed soothing circles on his back. "I'm not going to let him lay a single finger on you."
"But we're so few…" he insisted, weakly.
"Yes, we'll be greatly outnumbered," Spain conceded. "But we have thick walls, and a burning heart and iron will; and we have Blas de Lezo! Don't worry, kid. We'll make it out of this."
None of them fully believed those words.
ENGLAND
He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been fantasizing about the moment in which a wounded and defeated Spain would kneel before him and hand him the keys of Cartagena — the keys to his whole empire. He toyed with the coin in his hand, trying to think of the words he'd say after the victory. Should he humiliate Spain any further? Or should he behave like a gentleman and treat him kindly? Knowing how proud his rival was, he wasn't sure which of those options would bother him the most.
His gaze travelled to the desk, where Admiral Vernon and Lieutenant Wentworth discussed the strategy they were to follow. They didn't seem to agree much, but that wasn't a big problem. Their army was much bigger than the one that awaited them; if not brains, brawns would win the fight. Although…
"Admiral," he called, and the two men instantly stopped talking to one another and payed attention to him. "Do you know the man who's in charge of the defence of Cartagena?"
"Lezo," Vernon replied instantly. "I can't say I've met him personally, but I know for a fact that we've fought against each other in a few battles."(2)
"They say he's never lost one," Wentworth intervened.
"I'd say he's about to," England retorted, smug. "What do you think, Admiral? Will you defeat him?"
"Of course, Sire. It's enough proof the fact that I'm still in one piece and he isn't."
England burst out laughing. "I'll let you keep his wooden leg as a trophy."
SPAIN
"How did you get all those wounds?" New Granada asked, curious.
"Sergio!" Spain exclaimed. "You shouldn't ask those things," he scolded.
"No, no, it's okay," Lezo intervened. He knew the question would come sooner or later, and now that the three of them were alone on the top of the walls, waiting for the English navy to appear, it seemed like the best moment they'd have to talk about it. "The leg," he started, patting his left, wooden leg, "I lost it when I was fifteen. I was fighting a battle near Gibraltar during the succession war; a cannon ball hit the ship I was in and splintered my leg. I had to have it amputated in the middle of the battle."
"Did it hurt?" the colony asked, eyes open wide.
"I had four men holding me down and an unhealthy amount of rum in me to help me cope with the pain. I ended up fainting." He paused for a moment, shuddering at the memory, before going on. "The doctor said I endured the pain much better than he had expected.
"Then came the eye," he continued, pointing to the left side of his face. "I was eighteen and helped command the defence of a fort called Santa Catalina. A cannon hit the wall and a small rock hit me in the eye. I can't see through it, but at least I didn't have to have it removed.
"And the last one to go was the arm." He patted his right arm with the left one. "I was twenty-four when we were attacking Barcelona; a bullet pierced my forearm and paralyzed my elbow and arm. I can still move the hand a little," his fingers twitched as if to prove his words, "but it's not too useful. I can sign documents, and that's the extent of it."
New Granada whistled, amazed, and looked at Lezo with renewed respect. He was about to say something else when Spain straightened by his side, his gaze fixed on the horizon, and said: "They're here."
The three gazes locked on the horizon, where white sails were starting to appear. None of them said a word as more and more ships started to come closer to the city. It was Spain who broke the silence, his voice slightly shaking:
"That's an awful lot of ships."
ENGLAND
"They have six ships. That's so cute," England snickered, looking through his spyglass to Cartagena. Really, Spain? he thought, unbelieving. It's like you're begging me to destroy you. He spotted movement on top of the walls and smirked when he recognized Spain's red coat. "Prepare me a boat, will you," he ordered to the sailors that were by his side. "I think I have a date."
He rushed inside to get his own coat and hat, as well as the coin he had been playing with before. After hesitating for a moment, he took his weapons as well. It wasn't like Spain to attack on a pre-battle chat, but he never knew. Considering the situation he was in, he could try something desperate.
When he got out of his cabin, his boat was already prepared to leave. Vernon was by its side, waiting for him.
"I'm going alone," England said. "Wait until I'm back to start the attack; in the meantime, get ready for battle," he ordered.
"Aye, Sire."
Without any other word, England hopped on the boat and started to row to the shore, where he could already see two figures waiting for him.
SPAIN
"He's coming," New Granada said, instinctively getting closer to Spain.
"Yes, I've seen him," he replied, his gaze fixed on the boat that moved towards them. "Are you sure you want to be here?"
New Granada nodded without hesitation. "I'm safe with you," he said. "And I want to show him that I'm not afraid of him… even if I am, a little."
They didn't say anything else as they waited for England to reach them. Spain tightened his grip on the halberd when the other got close enough for him to see the smug smirk on his lips. Oh, how he wanted to punch him in the face…
"Do yourself a favour and surrender now," England said as soon as he was close enough.
"Surrender?" Spain laughed. "Come on, Arturo, as if you didn't know me."
"It's Arthur," he glared at him. "And England, to you."
Spain only smiled charmingly at him. He knew how much England hated when he called him by the Spanish version of his name, and thus did it every time he could
"Anyway," England went on, clearly annoyed but trying not to let it show, "are you really that proud and stubborn to let your people die for nothing?" Not giving him time to reply, he straightened and proudly started to expose his superiority. "I have three times more cannons than you have, and I have ten soldiers for every one of yours."
"That's okay," Spain smirked, confident. "A Spaniard is easily worth ten Englishmen."
"You have six ships," England ignored him. "I have one hundred and eighty. That's thirty times more than you."
"That may be a bit of a disadvantage, yes," Spain admitted, his smirk never leaving his face. "Nothing more than a small inconvenience."
England glared at him, clearly not happy with his superiority being labelled as 'a small inconvenience', and finally snapped.
"Do you really think you stand a chance against me?" he yelled. "You're a fool if you think you can win this!" His glare sharpened and his voice became lower, more menacing. "Do you really think that crippled of yours can outshine my Admiral?"
"A man in a shiny armour is a man that hasn't had his metal tested," Spain replied without missing a beat. "Don't you dare to underestimate me."
"I'm not underestimating you," he retorted. "I'm just being realistic. Only a madman would bet on you." He snorted. "The result of this battle is clear even since before starting— why can't you see that?"
"I'm stubborn," he shrugged. "I don't like giving up."
"You should learn to."
Not giving him a chance to reply, England tossed something at him, and Spain barely managed to catch it. It was a coin, and upon a closer look, he was left flabbergasted.
"Is this a commemorative coin?"
"Of my victory in this battle, yes."
"Is that Lezo kneeling before Vernon?" Spain asked, unbelieving, as he studied the coin. "Oh, you got his bad profile; he won't be too happy about that."
"Does he have a good profile?" England grunted, although he was ignored.
"What's this written here? The Spanish arrogance defeated by Admiral Vernon?" He let out a snort that wanted to resemble a laugh. "You make commemorative coins of a battle that hasn't been fought yet and I'm the arrogant one?"(3)
"Oh, come on, Spain, don't play innocent. Not with me. Aren't you always reminding everyone that you're the biggest empire in the world?"
"Because I am," he replied, calm. "I am the Empire where the Sun Never Sets, and you're very wrong if you think you'll be the one to end that," he said, pride dripping from every word.
"You're just so fucking proud," England snarled. "I'm going to thoroughly enjoy destroying you—"
"Don't be so sure," New Granada interrupted him, speaking for the first time since England had arrived, and surprising not only him, but Spain as well. "Year after year we've kicked out every single pirate that's tried to steal the riches of this city. Year after year, attack after attack, we've remained standing strong. You're no better than those pirates of yours," he hissed, "and we'll defeat you just like we've defeated them."
ENGLAND
He looked in disbelief at the kid— no, the brat that had just talked to him like that. By the look on Spain's face, he hadn't expected that outburst either; but while there was pride in the Mediterranean's eyes, England could only feel rage swelling inside him.
"We'll see about that," he simply said, piercing the young colony with a burning gaze before turning around and walking away.
As much as he hated to admit it, they had won that round. He'd make sure they didn't win anything else.
When he got in the ship again, he saw Vernon talking with a man he didn't know.
"Ah, Sire, you're back," the Admiral waved at him, clearly not sensing how annoyed his country was. "This is Lawrence Washington, the captain of the colonists."
"It's an honour, Sir!" Washington exclaimed, saluting.
"He was just telling me about his family," Vernon commented. "His little brother wasn't too happy about him leaving."
"Yes, George," Lawrence laughed. "He kept telling me that one day he'll go to war, too, and that he'll be a hero.(4)
"And I'm sure he will," England said, immediately after changing topic. "Admiral, we attack whenever you order it."
To be continued... (eventually)
Notes
(1) The Spanish colonies in America were divided in four 'virreinatos', enormous territories governed by a Viceroy. The virreinatos were Nueva España, Nueva Granada, del Perú and del Río de la Plata. Since the Latin-American countries that we know nowadays didn't exist back then, I decided to create a whole new character as the virreinato of New Granada.
(2) Lezo and Vernon fought against each other in quite a few battles, both as soldiers and commanders, yet never met face to face. For instance, Vernon fought in the battle in which Lezo lost the leg. Lezo always proved to me a magnificent strategist, and tricked Vernon more than once, when they both had climbed through the ranks. Vernon would exclaim one: "I'll be damned— it's the same bastard!" It's safe to say poor Edward Vernon was never a fan of Blas de Lezo :P
(3) Okay, I took a few liberties with the coins. For starters, they didn't say 'arrogance', but 'pride'. However, for the sake of the story (i.e. for the sake of having Spain verbally bitch-slapping England) I decided to change that word. Also, the coins were indeed forged before the battle was won, but not before it was started. Basically, England couldn't have had one at that moment, since they didn't exist yet; but again, for the sake of the story, I took some liberties.
(4) Yes, Lawrence's little brother is THE George Washington. England was right: he did end up being a hero XD
And that's it for now! Reviews and any kind of feedback are very much appreciated :)