Antonio

In a sense, everyone was alike. Every human being that walked planet Earth had its own similarities. These humans were similar in the way they looked even though their species varied in race. Just as there were some commonalities, there were differences. Some were larger than others, and some were so minuscule that they were barely noticeable. In the case of a Spanish pirate captain and his Italian prisoner, the differences seemed larger than life when in reality, they were nearly nonexistent.

Stories usually start with a scene, and just as other do, so shall this one. There was a ship rocking on the waves of the Celtic Sea. It had been sitting stationary off the coast of Britain for some time, merely displacing water. The crew that resided on the decks worked tirelessly, cleaning the deck to their captain's standards. They did not dare stop even though the burning sun beat down on their backs. They all feared the same man. They all feared the punishments he was rumored to inflict. They didn't dare risk getting caught slacking off when they were supposed to be scrubbing his beloved vessel. The ship was the Captain's pride and joy. Leaving her in disrepair was like disrespecting the Captain in the worst possible way.

The Captain himself was nicknamed Mad Man Capitaine by his crew. A long time friend of his had started it some ways back when he first became a captain. The crew never breathed a word of this nickname in his presence. They acted as if he had no clue of its existence, but he had found out the very first day it uttered. Still, the name had stuck. He wasn't crazy, no. His ideas were just a little... eccentric. He loved a challenge. He craved death-defying odds. He engrossed himself in it all, and in turn, he engrossed his crew in the same way. But that was just the way of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. No one aside from a select few on deck knew him as that, though. He was simply known as Captain Fernandez, nothing more. The civilians that feared to speak his name gave the Captain a more fitting title. He preferred the name the people had given him. He thought of himself just as they did. He was a Conquistador. Carriedo conquered. He took what he wanted. It may not have been for Spain as a whole and for their ignorant king, but it was for something. His cause may have at one time been noble, but those intentions had long since disappeared. Anyone who looked at him now saw that his motives were for his own greed and pleasure. And Antonio had not a single regret.

That is until the Italian entered his life.

Like any other day, Antonio walked upon the deck of his ship. A red strip of fabric was tied around his forehead beneath his long, curling brown hair to catch the sweat that threatened to pour down from his brow. The length of his curls were tied back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His bangs were either flattened beneath the fabric or hanging freely on top of it. Despite being a seldom religious man, a rosary was strung into the red fabric. It was a delicate object of precious rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds. He never wore a hat unless he was sailing his ship himself or making an attempt to look fearsome and presentable. An arrangement of earrings hung from his cartilage all the way down to the lobe of his right ear. He was garbed in a plain white shirt that remained untied at the neck, black pants that fell just inches below his knees, and black boots that shined in the sun. On his hands, he wore an assortment of different rings, whose settings held more precious stones. A bottle of Spanish wine resided in his hand. It was half empty; he drank the majority earlier that morning. To complete his attire, he wore a long red coat. It was bright, like a rose. The fastenings were gold as well as was the brocade and stitching. It was his signature, the red, like the flag he cast when he was preparing to attack.

The ship itself was a beautiful vessel made of oak and sapele. Three masts stood tall and proud, white sails billowing in the wind. At the front of the ship, just below the bowsprit, was a beautiful figurehead of a young girl. She was not pornographic like most figureheads were. She was elegant and innocent. In her outstretched hand, she held a lantern. She acted as the beacon that led the Wandering Anna Maria through the darkness. She was Anna Maria. She could use a bit of paint, but her beauty held strong. Some time had passed since the ship was built, back when his intentions as a pirate were still pure. It had been an expensive venture, but he had managed with the money he had scraped together under the command of his former captain. He may have stolen said funds from the aforementioned captain and raised all hell with him, but that was a story for another time. He had been successfully sailing the Wandering Anna Maria for six years.

The Captain meandered across the deck, watching his crew clean. They gave him swift greetings as he passed, only pausing for a moment before turning back to their work. He did not respond with words. He only provided a brief nod. Antonio remained on deck for a moment longer before heading below deck towards the brig. Down below was his prisoner, his Italian. He met him Britain. Antonio had neither intended nor expected to take along extra cargo during his last visit to the city, but unexpected circumstances arose that peaked his interest. He remembered it like it were yesterday. It was yesterday.

The Captain walked down the cobbled streets of the town. These roads were a maze of twists and turns, but he knew them well enough. He had spent many summers there with his two friends. Oh, the havoc they wreaked racing up and down these streets. They stole from the open air markets, crashed parties of diplomats, and got drunk off of the shit British wine. That was many years ago, but not much had changed since then. The road that he took was booming with merchants and consumers. It was a fantastic sight full of hundreds of colors and scents. Antonio, however,w as not there to reminisce and sight see. He was there to settle a few deals, sort out a few new affairs, and possibly spend a night at the inn with a few of the local girls. That was all. He could not stay long and risk exposure. As a pirate captain, he was a wanted man in many countries. Britain was one of them. It was a risk docking his small skiff that he had taken from his ship, but the odds of capture did not daunt him. He was fearless.

People swarmed the narrow road, so he took a left down a familiar, less-crowded, open pavilion. A few people milled about. A few painters had set up shop. One was what seemed to be a set of twins. Antonio let a small smile briefly cross his lips before he walked over to a vendor who was selling food. He purchased some cuisine, but he wasn't sure what it was. It tasted good, though. He also managed to snag a bottle of wine from an Italian vendor. It was strange that the old man had set up shop in Britain, but he did not care. Wine was wine, and anything was better than the local brew. And now he was just waiting. His contact for business had been in Britain had to show sooner rather than later. If not, then his dangerous trip was all in vain. Just as Antonio was about to leave the cobbled square, his contact came.

Allistor. He only provided a first name, never a last. He was only known as Allistor. He casually stopped beside the Captain and leaned against the wall. A cigarette sat between his index and middle fingers. He took a long drag off of it before speaking.

"Anthony?" Allistor asked. He used the English variety of his name, not that the Spaniard paid any concern.

The Captain gave a brief nod and held out a bag of coins to the man beside him. He kept his actions discreet. "For the information you provided me that led me to the treasures in the Caribbean. The rest will come upon visit to my ship. That is all I can risk carrying at the moment," he said softly. His words were in Spanish. He wanted to risk no one overhearing their conversation.

"Of course. I do have another business venture if you'd like to hear," he said. His words were in his native Gaelic tongue, which Antonio had taken the time to learn some years back. The Spaniard nodded to Allistor and awaited his response. "There is a wealthy man here on business with his two grandsons. They're renting a house in town for the next few months." Allistor paused to point out the old man selling the Italian wine. Antonio discreetly hid his stolen bottle behind his back after his emerald eyes made contact with the man. "The two boys are the only heirs to his wine industry and his fortune. Take them hostage. Hold them for ransom. Your earnings will make you a king."

"Who are these boys?"

Allistor subtly glanced across the square to the set of twins that were painting.

"Their background?" the Captain asked. He looked closer at the boys. One was smiling, and the other wore a sour expression.

"The younger one is the happier one. He has been living with his grandfather since he was a child. He is afraid of most everything. Won't hurt a fly. The older one is the grumpy one. He is said to have raised himself on the streets before coming to stay with his grandfather about a year ago. A lonely and irritable child. I don't know much about him, so I couldn't tell you what harm he could cause. I wouldn't underestimate him until you can size him up," the Scot said.

Antonio weighed his options. Taking both would mean an additional two mouths to feed on his ship. When times grew rough on the seven seas, food became scarce. Those two extra mouths could mean life or death, but the reward at the end of the road seemed far greater than the risk. "Which one does their grandfather love more?"

"It seems to be the one that smiles. The old man dotes on the boy left and right. The older of the two just seems to be a real pain in the ass unless he's talking to the local ladies. His charm soars right there. Take one, take both. I just know that a very high price will be paid for their safe return."

The Spaniard nodded. "Their names?"

"Vargas. Lovino and Feliciano Vargas."

Antonio was nearly at the brig. He had stopped in the kitchens along the way and acquired a meager meal of a tomato and half of a loaf of bread. He also had a bottle of Vargas wine. He rarely was this kind to prisoners. The boy was lucky to get a single one of his tomatoes. Fresh food was hard to come by whilst sailing the seven seas, so anytime Antonio docked anywhere, he grabbed a basket of tomatoes. He loved the fruit, and it was a treat when he could take them with him. It was rare that he actually shared with his first mate, let alone a prisoner. But his prisoner needed something to keep him alive.

The Spaniard walked down the steps to the brig slowly, his gaze cold and calculating. One crew member resided down below. He couldn't quite remember his name. He, however, gestured for the man to leave. He did so without hesitation, leaving the Captain and his Italian prisoner alone.

Antonio let his gaze gloss over the boy. He was skinny yet muscular. His face was narrow and his eyes a strange mix of amber and green. His hair was a wavy, dark brown, matted with grease. One curl, however, did not seem to want to lie flat. Such an oddity. Overall, the Italian was an attractive sight to a man stranded at sea for many months at a time. The girls back in Italy must have been fond of him. He'd have to keep the crew away from him...

"Eat, no?" Antonio asked, holding out the tomato and bread. He took a swig of the wine before holding that out, too. The Italian remained quiet and did not move. "I am neither a patient nor a kind man. Rather than take what I have to offer you, you treat me with disrespect. You can either eat the meal I've provided or wait for a few days until I'm particularly generous once more, sí?"

The boy slowly moved and took the food into his tanned hands. Antonio noted that he left the wine in the Captain's outstretched hand. He actually looked upon the drink with disgust. He instead took a small bite of the tomato, his gaze far away from the Spaniard.

"What is your name?" he asked although he knew the answer. He wanted to give the boy a certain semblance of control. Again, the Captain was met with silence. "Answer me. What... is... your... name?"

"Lovino Vargas," the boy said, his expression growing irate. He did not seem like being treated like a child. Well, if he was going to act like a child, then he was going to be treated as such.

"How old are you?"

A pause and a puzzled expression. From the looks of it, the boy didn't seem to recall his own age. And then a simple, "Eighteen."

Antonio nodded briefly. This boy was young but old enough to marry. He saw no ring on his finger. There was no marriage to speak of, and from his personality, he could assume that there was no prior engagement, either. He was only eighteen, and there was a ten-year gap between Lovino and himself. "You're young, and by the look of you, you're strong, no? I will give you three options that you will choose between. One, you can stay here in this cell until your grandfather buys your freedom. Two, you can work with my crew on deck. Or, three, you can be my cabin boy. The latter of the three are to be decided on how well I can trust that you won't run or stab me in the back first chance you get."

The Italian was quiet at first. He seemed to be contemplating his options. "What the fuck did you do with my brother, Spanish Bastard?"

Antonio didn't let the surprise register on his features. This kid certainly had a mouth. "Him? He's an enjoyable little fellow. He's with the cook, keeping him company."

The boy snorted and mumbled something under his breath that the Spaniard didn't quite catch.

"Speak up boy," the Captain said with a bit of lazy annoyance.

"I said 'it's like him to smooth talk his way out of sit with that innocent little smile of his.'"

"Oh. Yes. He's very good at that. I actually find it annoying."

Lovino snorted again. This time he seemed more amused rather than pissed off.

"I should have stayed in Napoli. Would have made my life a hell of a lot easier."

"Ah... The southern end of Italy, no? Sí, that probably would have been smart, but you instead came to the call of your grandfather and brother. You went North. I don't think he even knows you're here right now. Undoubtedly he knows about your brother."

The amusement dropped from his features. Lovino flushed a bright crimson and took another swift bite of the tomato.

"Not happy, are we, mi tomate?"

The flush on the Italian's features deepened. "Oh, I'm just peachy. You've kidnapped me and locked me in a cage. I just love being treated like an animal," the boy snapped, sarcasm literally dripping off of each word. "And don't call me your damned tomato."

"There are so much worse things that I could do to you compared to locking you in a cage. You can preach your speech on equality of man all you'd like, but there is a difference between the pair of us. I am a captain, and you are not. You are a prisoner on my ship."

"Yeah. Sure. A captain. You're a pirate. A captain would have honor. You clearly lack that."

"You wound me with your statements that point out the obvious."

"They basically let anyone with a ship call themselves a captain. You're just a drunk pirate with a pretty boat that's either stolen or has been paid for with stolen funds."

The kid pretty much hit it on the head. But did he really think that Anna Maria was pretty? Antonio was flattered. But that was beside the point. "I think of myself not as a pirate, but as a Conquistador. I take what I wish. I conquer it. I have taken you, but have yet to conquer."

"Conquer? How could you conquer me, Spanish Bastard?"

"Break your will, make you bleed, take everything away that you keep to yourself. Your pride, your dignity," he said. "Tell me, mi hijo, another man has never touched you before, no?"

Lovino's eyes widened at the hidden implications of the question. "Spanish Bastard, you wouldn't dare."

"Now that I know you're against the idea, I might have to try," Antonio said softly. He reached his ring-covered hand through the bars of the cell and took hold of Lovino's chin. "Your emotions are quite delicious. I will enjoy conquering you. Take care, Lovinito."

The Captain released the boy's chin and stood. He left his canteen of water that he carried on his person by the bars for Lovino and took the wine with him. He stalked away and went up the stairs with purpose and swagger in his step. He finally had a new project to keep him busy whilst on this business venture. His crew was working the same that they had been when he last checked. His ship was tidy and beautiful. His prisoners were under control. Life seemed easy for the Captain and his crew. Far too easy.

And as irony would have it, that was about to end.

It was that British flag flying off the mast of a British ship that made his happy little world come crashing down.

And it wasn't just any ship. It was the Lady fucking Beth.

Antonio cursed. Nothing ever seemed to be easy for him. He did not hesitate on the thought, though. He merely began to shout orders at his crew. He knew for a fact that they were coming closer to his beloved Wandering Anna Maria. He knew they were hostile, too. That ship was the Lady Beth. It was under the command of none other than Alfred fucking Jones. He had every reason to hunt Antonio. That was his job. He hunted pirates for the crown. There were two most possible for this sudden appearance. One, he was coming to arrest him for piracy. Two, he was coming to retrieve his prisoners. With or without payment, he did not know. Either way, it was a hostile ship. It was too soon for his message to have reached the grandfather of the boys. He had sent it earlier that morning with Allistor after he and his most trusted crew member, his first mate Bella, took the prisoners...

Antonio walked the shadows carefully. His blonde companion walked behind him. Their goal was simple. Take the two boys quietly and without alerting any resident of the home. The Vargas family was staying in a large house in town, one they were simply renting for the time being. From the house, they had to get the boys to the horse and carriage they had stolen and then back to the coast where their small skiff was docked. From the skiff, they had to make their way back to the ship. He and Bella were lucky the waters were calm that night. Turbulent seas and winds would be problematic.

They now stood in the wake of the house rear side of the house. They only remained there for a moment. They had no time to waste. Their point of entry was the servant's door on the first floor. In the dead of night, when the residents were asleep, that was a manageable task. It may have been dark and silent, but the Captain was sober and alert. They were able to locate the door easily. Antonio knelt down in front of it and pulled a lockpick from the pocket of his red coat. He inserted the pick into the lock and moved it around a bit until he heard a click. They were in. Antonio gestured for Bella to enter and mouthed 'Ladies first."

The house was just as dark and silent as the outside. The Captain shut the door gently and crept along the floor towards the stairs that led to the main level of the house. Before their venture inside, Antonio had paid off one of the scullery maids. He was given a full rundown of the house by the girl. It had two or three floors, and the kitchen was one of the many on the lowest. He wasn't concerned with the kitchen. He was concerned with the bedrooms which were located at the top of the house.

The main floor was absolutely breathtaking. The ceilings were high and vaulted. The windows were draped in crimson silks. Vases and pottery line the shelves. Even though he was only at the residence temporarily, the master of the house, Augustus Vargas, had exquisite and expensive taste. Antonio dared not touch a thing. This was not a bedlam job. He wasn't stealing artifacts from the home, no matter how valuable they were. He was merely taking his captives and slipping out silently as if he were never there.

The pair crept up the next flight of stairs onto the top most floor of the manor. They were faced with a hall with three doors. One on the left, one of the right, and a double, solid wood French door at the end. Augustus had imported doors from France. He had such expensive tastes... It was sad that he did not have better security and servants in his home. He had allowed two pirates into his home to kidnap his grandsons.

Antonio gestured to the door on the right and motion for Bella to go inside. The woman gave a curt nod and slipped through the door. The Captain, on the other hand, crept towards the double doors. He unsheathed his sword and gently slid it through the handles. It was a pity to lose such a beautiful blade, but he could afford another at a later date. If something was to go awry, the Augustus could not come to the aid of his grandsons. They were to be entirely at the mercy of the Captain.

The Ship was less than two leagues away and gaining. His adrenaline pushed away any of the deliria that his drinking had brought and sent it from his veins. He was alert. Antonio did not hesitate. He was also a pirate. It was his nature to come to this decision. They were going to attack without a second thought or question. There was only one ship, and it hadn't risen a white flag of peace and surrender. They were probably outnumbered in quality weaponry, yes, but they had an advantage. As pirates, they played dirty. They were taking this ship over. Antonio yelled his orders: get your swords, get your guns, prepare yourself and this ship for battle. His voice thunder and his orders were followed. He had one last thing he needed to do before following them himself. He needed to get the younger grandson of Augustus Vargas down below. Sure, it would break the kid's happy mood to be behind bars, but Antonio had no choice. He couldn't risk anything. These boys were precious cargo. The Captain hurried across the deck towards the galley. He flew down the steps and burst inside.

"Vargas!" he called.

Antonio then stopped. The youngest Vargas was sitting in the corner, his arms wrapped around his legs. Tears streaked his face, and he was mumbling something rapidly in Italian. Bella sat beside him, her hand on his head. She was cooing to the boy in broken Italian. It was like Bella, with her motherly nature, to come to the aid of the boy. She had always been a step ahead of him when it came to those sort of matters. He must have heard the commotion on deck. He was a child. He seemed to be petrified. He had to be - what? - the same age as his brother, if not younger. Upon noticing the Captain, the Italian wiped his eyes and nose roughly with his sleeves.

"You will be okay, no?" Antonio asked. It was the closest he could come to compassion towards the kid. "Bella, we are on the verge of attack. I need him down below with his brother where he will be safe." When neither moved, Antonio groaned inwardly. "Get the lead from your boots, Bella!" The Captain pulled the Italian to his feet roughly and shoved him towards the next flight of stairs down. Bella stood and followed the boy down below.

It was then that Antonio's swift flying feet brought him to the helm of the ship. He pulled his spyglass from his hip and peered into it. The ship was undeniably British. He had no doubt that it was one of the King's own unless the Lady Beth had suddenly switched it allegiances. They were going toe to toe with the best ship in the Royal Navy. It was definitely going to be a long day.

Antonio let out a sad sigh. It was tragic to watch the beautiful ship fall and sink to the depths of the sea. The British fought valiantly and bravely. The Lady Beth and her crew were the pride and joy of the British Royal Navy. It was a difficult battle against them. The crew of the Wandering Anna Maria gave it their all. They did everything they could... And in the end, the British were conquered. The Wandering Anna Maria was intact. The ship had survived with minimal damage to the woodwork and sails. The beautiful carving at the bowsprit was a little worse for wear, but it was nothing a bit of paint couldn't fix. The Captain was pleased. His crew had performed well under the pressure and heavy bombardment of the British Navy Men. Only two prisoners were taken.

First was an Austrian Musician that was formerly the prisoner of the British Navy. He was interesting, to say the least. Interesting and pompous and entirely irritating. He challenged Antonio's patience as well as his authority. He seriously loved to complain about the manners of the crew as well. That is why he landed his pompous rear in the brig with the Italian brothers for the rest of the evening. The musician couldn't be near the Captain. His temper couldn't hold that long. He knew he had to get rid of him quickly. Hell, he could be a present to Gilbert. The man always said he needed a woman on board to entertain him. The musician was close enough.

His second prisoner was rather special. It was the captain of the Lady Beth himself. It was Alfred F. Jones. He was a loud one, that former captain. Loud and annoying. Upon capture, he proudly proclaimed that he would indeed 'escape the clutches of this terrible and unlawful pirate before bringing him to the justice of King Henry VIII.' For that speech, he landed himself down below as well, but he was locked in his own individual cell, far from the others. Antonio didn't trust the Brit. He knew Jones was a resourceful man. He'd try his hand at escape the first chance he got. Antonio had gone as far as to chain him to the wall. He wasn't taking any fucking chances with this man.

In the meantime, the rest of his prisoners were staying down in the brig until morning. The eldest Italian could possibly stay longer than the younger. He didn't want to deal with his ornery bullshit just yet.

The sun had set hours ago, and they had long since sailed away from the wreck of the Lady Beth. Antonio had been sitting on deck, watching the waves, the ocean, his crew since the battle. He was far more perceptive than usual. He hadn't a drink since before the battle. He was as sober as he'd be for a long while. The moon was now high in the sky. The night itself was brisk. A cold breeze blew on the British seas, one that penetrated the entire ship. Only the night watch and the Captain himself remained awake to suffer through the cold in consciousness. It left Antonio alone to his thoughts, to his interests. No one was there to pry into his business, to watch his actions.

Antonio found himself rising from his seated position and gravitating toward the brig as his thoughts raced towards that angry Italian. He had seldom interacted with Lovino Vargas, but his interest was already peaked. He was told not to underestimate the boy, and all he wanted to do was see what he was capable of. He slowly made his way down, his emerald eyes scanning the dark rooms and holds below deck. There was only the light of the full moon to guide him, and even that was scarce as he delved deeper into cold depths of the ship. The Spaniard pulled his red coat tighter around himself and kept on his way. Once downstairs, Antonio looked upon his sleeping prisoners. The eldest Italian lay in the glow of the moonlight, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He had given his blanket to his brother before they had fallen asleep. The Austrian in the cell beside him had his own blanket. Even the Brit had the protection of his Navy garb and a blanket. The group, however, was short one. Lovino was the only one without the warmth of a blanket or coat. He wore only a dirty, white cotton shirt, black pants, and boots. He had no coat, nothing to protect him from the sudden chill of the night. This was all Antonio had allowed him to take that night.

The Captain opened the door on the left side of the hall and stepped into the bedchamber. He closed the door with a soft click. There was a large bed at the center of the room, against the wall. A sleeping male laid at the center of the bed. Antonio looked him over in the moonlight. He seemed almost angelic in the peaceful way he slept. But those thoughts couldn't cross his mind. He was here to take the boy prisoner.

Antonio drew his second sword slowly and soundlessly before bringing the tip close to the boy. He placed his hand over the boy's mouth, and he awoke with a start. His amber eyes few wide and wild in the moonlight.

"Be quiet and remain so if you wish to live, sí?" he whispered, taking a step back from the child. "Dress quickly and make no noise. I will not hesitate to kill you if I feel you are too loud, you understand, no?"

The Italian nodded and scrambled from the warmth of his bed. He only wore a short nightshirt in these wee hours of the night, but neither male cared about modesty at the moment. The Italian merely hurried to put on a pair of black pants. He tugged the nightshirt over his head. The boy was thin but muscular. The moonlight accentuated his body. The Spaniard shook the thoughts from his head as the boy pulled a fresh, white shirt over his frame. He had to get his head on straight. This wasn't the time to fawn over a pretty face.

"Quickly now, boy. I haven't got all night. Hurry and remain silent..." Antonio whispered as the boy tugged on his boots.

The Spaniard them led him from the room and into the hallway by the tip of his sword. Bella had the younger one with her as well. He looked scared and unsure about the pirates that were taking him away, but a look of relief cross his features as soon as he saw his brother. The older, however, looked mortified. Whatever their relationship was, they must have been close.

Antonio pulled a nondescript dagger from his holster on his leg and a roll of parchment from the inside of his coat. The parchment was a letter addressed to Augustus Vargas. Antonio glanced over the writing to make sure it was satisfactory.

It read:

Sénior Vargas,

Your presence if required at the request of your grandchildren. In two months times, bring twice their weight in gold to the Land's End in two months time, or they will pay dearly.

Kindest regards,

The Conquistador

Antonio quietly drove the tip of his dagger into first the paper and then the wood of the fancy French door. He then pulled his sword from between the handles of the grandfather's door before heading silently down the steps with the boys in front of him. Bella led the way. The two pirates led the boys from the safety of their home and back to the carriage they had stolen. They made their way to the docks where their skiff was. Before leaving the mainland entirely, the Captain met Allistor on the dock beside his little boat. They were hidden in the shadows of the cliffs and ships of the wharf. It was as if they were a part of the darkness itself. Antonio left a payment with Allistor for his information and service that led to his success that evening.

"Take care, Allistor," Antonio said before slipping into the skiff. "I intend to see you aboard my ship for the rest of your payment soon."

Allistor nodded back to him. "And you, too, Conquistador. Watch where you ventures with these Italians lead you. Don't allow them to lead you astray."

And with that, they parted way. Antonio turned to the Italians that Bella was binding at the wrists. They seemed so innocent and tired in the moonlight. The older one, however, had traces of hatred in his eyes. How Antonio had mistaken him for an angel was beyond his sobriety. These two were innocent, though. Far too innocent and young to face the cruelty of this world.

Antonio looked back to the sleeping Italian. He had regained his angelic grace through rest. He looked peace as his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. The curl on his head never seemed to lie flat. It gave him that boyish charm. Lovino was just a boy. He was young and innocent. His innocence, however, was slowly deteriorating with every moment of this journey. The boy seemed to cling to it desperately. Beyond the hatred he often saw in his eyes, there was fear. In fear, there was innocence and weakness. Antonio could just tell by the way the boy held himself while he slept that he was full of fear. His arms and legs were drawn in as if he were trying to protect himself. Of course, he had a sense of maturity about him. He had taken care of his brother and given him the blanket when he had no obligation to. He was taking care of the younger boy, Antonio noticed, despite how bitter had been to him the few times he had seen them together on his ship. There was much more to the Italian than the Captain had initially realized.

Still, he was nothing more to him than a prisoner. He was a prisoner that, in a moment of pity and weakness and sobriety, Antonio showed kindness to. He unlocked the cell and stepped through the doorway. He removed his red coat and draped it over the boy's body. After that last act, the Captain needed a drink. After a day as stressful as the one he had experienced, he deserved it. He needed a drink and Bella in his quarters. He briskly turned and shut the door to the cell. He didn't look back as he stalked up the stairs silently. He did not notice the bleary-eyed boy staring up at him as he left.

Lovino

Lovino did not notice how long the Captain had been watching him sleep. He could have been there for hours or he could have been there for only a moment. Lovino did not know. He merely felt warmth surround him in the cold of the night. He opened his amber eyes and watched the Spanish captain leave. He did not look back at Lovino He never even said a word. He just walked away. Maybe if he had, Lovino could have saved him... Maybe.

Lovino pulled the Captain's coat tighter around himself. The last thing he remembered before dozing off was the scent of the fabric. It smelt mostly of sweat and vaguely of Spanish flowers.

A/N/: Okay. Well. That took me long enough. Next chapter will take just as long. I haven't even technically started the writing process. Okay. Well. I dedicated this chapter to another Pebblecat because of a nickname they inspired me to use. Lovinito. I thought it sounded cute.

Okay. As for the historical inaccuracies, I know certain countries such as Germany and Italy and Belgium were not founded circa 1500 a.d., but instead of trying to use different adjectives to describe some of their nationalities, I just said fuck it. This is Hetalia. They are countries. Belgium is French for the sake of this fanfiction, but so far that is all I plan to change. That and America. Because America is something you can't really stretch, especially when you're American. There are too many wars for the country. He's just gonna be a Brit with really bad slang and shit. Yeah. Sounds about right.

One final thing. I do not own the majority of the letter Antonio pegged to the door of Augustus Vargas. That is a reference to the movie Hook with Robin Williams (may he rest soundly). Also, I do not own the name, Lady Beth. That belongs to George DeValier, who had inspired me to write fanfiction and caused me to love SpaMano with every fiber of my being.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this. It took a lot of work to put out there. I literally retyped every single word. I didn't copy and paste a single thing because. Yeah. Then none of the problems would have been fixed. I managed to add like three more 1.15 spaced pages to this as well. So. Hurrah. I also changed some things in the story. Certain characters. Older readers will understand what I'm getting at. Newer... Not so much. I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for the shitty, lengthy, not very coherent author's note. Spread the word. Tell other people about this. Yep.

Thanks for reading.

Gravey.

P.S. I know that there isn't an 'e' in gravy, I just... Don't question it. 3