Pirate Hetalia...yes. XD We tried to resist writing this for the longest time. But, in the end, we failed. Or would it be win? Haha, we hope you enjoy the story! Please review if you like~

~NightDreamers

Behind the Horizon

Chapter One

A loud ring chimed through the air as two swords clashed against each other fiercely. The wielders' intent to kill resonated throughout their blades and the metal sang as they slid to the opposite's hilt. Teeth ground together, blood was spat onto the ground from injuries previously inflicted—and bodies, the forms of their crewmates lay around them in a silent, yet deafening lament. A pair of leaf-green eyes covered in frost seared into the pair of emerald ones, and he leaned forward with a swing of his blade. But the other stepped out of the way, pointing his weapon at the blonde before he too thrust straight.

The guns had long run out of bullets and the ship, overtaken.

"You're not as weak as I thought you were," said the blonde, his British accent thick on his exasperated tone.

The Spaniard let a smirk play on his lips. "Si…you are not bad, either."

Both drew back, a standstill between them as they soundlessly strategized their next moves. Then with a sudden lunge forward and a twist of his sword, the Spanish pirate sent his counterpart's blade flying high into the air before disappearing into the rolling waves of the sea. "Looks like I win, mi amigo."

The victory was short lived; the ominous sound of a pistol clicked and was pointed up at the brunette by the smirking British pirate. "I always knew you'd best me at sword-work. But…have I ever come unprepared?" he chuckled, finger twitching on the trigger.

The reply came out in a hiss. "An extra bullet…you coward."

The ship rocked as the sound of cannon fire boomed through the air. The feud between the two pirate captains would end this day, yet both knew that the fight was doomed to continue, and would be carried on to the next generation.

Men bustled about carrying a variety of crates, bags and boxes as their superiors impatiently called out instructions and commands. In the air the smell of gun powder and food mixed to form an unusual odor that could neither be classified as appealing nor disgusting. The Italian heard peals of hearty laughter about him before someone shouted, "Hurry it up! Or I'll have ye all be keel hauled!"

Fratellino…just think of him and get on the damned boat while you have the chance!

The tanned Italian strode forward, taking a box from the wooden planks and carrying it up the small board connecting the sea-craft and the port. His amber eyes were focused forward, a scowl firm on his face as his auburn curl swayed in the brisk sea wind that added a smell of saltwater to the scented mix. Good, he looked like he belonged. Nobody took the time to spare him a second glance.

No one noticed when he took the box below deck, and no one noticed when he didn't return.

Lovino Vargas let out a heavy sigh of annoyance and crouched behind the farthest box in the storage. Fratellino, why the hell do you always get dragged into the most stupid and dangerous situations? Damn it.

The ship rocked and Lovino steadied himself, his eyelids tightening and brows furrowing together at the unpleasant movement. He hadn't paid any attention to which ship he boarded, but all he needed to know was that he was going to sea. How the pirates had gotten past the Italian government was beyond him—maybe they were scouting northern borders? Most likely, but he didn't want to think about the details.

Lovino's foolish little brother had gone missing a week ago; even after looking in every corner of the city, the younger Italian was nowhere to be found. Then a rumor began circling around the area: Feliciano Vargas was taken hostage by pirates. Or something. Lovino figured that even the tiniest clue or rumor was worth looking into. So, here he was. Aboard a pirate ship.

The idea sounded better thirty minutes ago.

His head was pounding from the footsteps and voices mingling above him. Not only that, but the ship rocked back and forth nauseatingly, beating him against the crates that crushed him from either side.

This couldn't get any worse...

He sighed, but hastily covered his mouth when the sound feet were heard descending the stairs. Lovino pushed himself back farther against the wall in hopes that whoever had decided to come down here wouldn't find him.

The man was mumbling something to himself, appearing to be quite unhappy with his assumed duty. Lovino gave an inward scoff; he could hardly understand anything coming out of his mouth.

His shoe tapped a box as he adjusted himself and he froze—the footsteps fell silent. Through a space between the cargo he watched the pirate's probing gaze search the room before facing away, grumbling to himself about rats as he lifted a box into his arm, finally returning to the deck.

With a sigh the Italian leaned against the curved wood of the hull. This was going to be a nightmare.

-X-

It felt like an entire day had gone by when Lovino first wiggled away from his hiding place. The fact that he was yet to be found was a miracle in itself…only the crew that was burdened with the "dirty work" of the ship bothered to travel down into the storage area. Luck had stuck beside him so far, but now his stomach was plagued with painful rumbles of hunger. They should have something to eat around here…if he were to get into one of the crates labeled food, would that be too obvious? Maybe they'd think the rats had gotten into them…

The chance of them thinking that rodents could open crates was most-probably low, but he didn't know what pirates thought about such things. Or what kind of rats lived on a ship. He shivered at the thought, at least this was a well-kept craft by…well, he had no standards on that subject.

With his stomach growling once more he moved to one of the boxes and pried at the lid—he'd rather risk the notice of broken crates then give himself away with the sound of his hunger. He peeked inside and scowled…oranges. From the stories that were told around the city the fruit was important to eat while at sea, but he couldn't leave the peels just lying around. He looked about, reluctant to put the peel back in with the whole ones. Sitting back down he dug his nails into a section of the fruit and began to peel away at it. He licked the juice from his fingers, only then realizing just how famished he had become.

The large orange was tart, yet it was enough (mostly) to quench his thirst. His hunger, however, was yet to be conquered. With a shrug of his shoulders and a mumbled curse he slipped the orange peels into his pocket.

Now came the more precarious part of his little sea-adventure.

He walked towards the stairs leading to the deck, his steps noiseless against the wood. When he reached the top he pushed open the trap-door and peeked out of the crack. Good, night had fallen. He gave to himself an inward nod before opening the door a little wider to check for anyone who may be near to see.

No one—besides a sleeping sailor who was leaning against a cabin, mop on his shoulder and bucket nigh. As a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, Lovino opened the shaft and stepped out into the night.

The scene presented before him was breathtaking. Not having taken the time to take note of the architecture of ship when he first snuck on, he was surprised at its sheer grandeur.

Easily sixty feet long, the ship was narrow and fitted with three thick masts reaching high into the air, allowing the sails to fill with the wind. The surprisingly clean deck reflected the pale moonlight off of its slick blanket of water that had been thrown aboard from the heaving waves of the sea. The gentle wind blew Lovino's hair back from his face as he moved forward, the majesty of the scene drawing him nearer. Until the boat sharply reminded him that what he called its floor was not still by any means as it crested over a wave, causing it to rock gently to the side. It failed to awaken the seafaring men, but cast the stowaway to the railing, and a sense of queasiness overcame him as he leaned over and looked into the dark depths of the ocean.

His gaze was pulled away from the hypnotic ripples by the sound of a waving flag far above his head. Lovino tilted his head to upwards, eyes landing upon the sewn depiction of a Robin.

Lovino stared at it, wondering why a sudden nous of familiarity came over him. Then he drew back, making sure that the sailor was still asleep before moving across the deck to the other side of the main mast.

He silently moved down the ladder, delving into the sleeping quarters of the crew.

The bunks set against the wall were filled with crew members, their loud snores mingling into a slumberous cacophony. Lovino's lips curled in aggravation, not at all pleased with the situation—but dismissing it he tiptoed down the aisle. A sudden sound of mumbled speech caused him to cringe, closing both hands over his lips.

A sailor turned over on his side and faced Lovino. The Italian wasn't sure whether he should make a run for it or keep still and hope that he wouldn't open his eyes…but the man remained asleep, to Lovino's surprise. So, he searched around the bunks a little longer before deciding that his younger brother most definitely wasn't there. He quickly, yet mutely, turned on his heel and made his way back up to the deck. The salty air gave him a head rush once again, but he shook it away and hid himself behind a stack of crates. Alright, so, maybe sneaking into the ship's sleeping quarters wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. But he had to make sure that Feliciano hadn't been there.

Was there a place where they kept hostages somewhere on board? Lovino gulped, leaning around the corner and checking once more for the hoped emptiness of the deck.

Jerking his head back as footsteps sounded across the wood, he held his breath with wide eyes. The man who had been asleep only moments before was awake and moving around the ship, tightening various cords and moving the sails to catch the wind heading in the direction they desired. Why, why had he waited so long to check for night? He should have trusted his instincts and now he was sure to be caught, and then...he didn't want to think about it.

The soft thud on the deck drew closer and his heart beat wildly against his chest. He feared that it would give him away just as his stomach would have a while ago. By some miracle though, the pirate turned towards the door that was sure to lead to the captain's cabin and rapped against the wood. It was at that moment when Lovino took his chance and dashed across to the slightly ajar shaft that led to his hideaway and dived down. He paused at the bottom of the ladder, ears straining to hear what was said above deck.

"Damn untied cargo."

The young man breathed a sigh of relief before scurrying back to his hiding place like the rat that the crew seemed to believe he was.

-X-

When Lovino next woke there were sounds of the men's chatter on the deck once again. There were so many conversations happening at once; he couldn't discern one word from another. He leaned forward, but his back and neck were stiff and achy. He stretched as best he could. So far no luck in finding his brother; but a new day brought forth new opportunities, he guessed.

Damn, what he'd give for a tomato right now. Digging into a different crate, he found some bread to go along with his orange. A good enough breakfast, he supposed. He was quick to peel back the rind and suck the juice from the orange. The bread was gone in moments, and the peels were stuffed in his pockets once more.

Lovino sighed softly, feeling riled though he had yet to do anything productive. Well, maybe…maybe he was on a civil pirate ship? But that name…the Robin…there was something about it sent a shiver down his spine. Maybe he should have actually listened to the tales of pirates their grandfather used to tell. Feliciano was the one who enjoyed hearing about the seamen while he preferred, well, not listening.

Light suddenly flooded down into his hideout as the trapdoor was thrown open and was just as quickly blocked out by a body as two pirates hurried down the ladder, the commanding voice of the captain shouting out commands that were foreign to the stowaway's ears. All that he could understand was that the man wanted gunpowder, and quick. That filled him with dread as the pirates turned his way, and their eyes connected.

The eyes of the two rugged men glittered as one moved forward and seized Lovino's arm. "So, what he was sayin' was true. We do 'ave a nasty little rat." He growled, jerking the pale Italian over the crates. "Let's see what the cap'n wants ta do with ya."

As he dragged Lovino to the steps the other moved to fetch gun powder, growling threateningly, nearly mockingly, at the stowaway's back. "Better hope ye didn't mess with any of the ammunition, or ye'll be further than nine feet down."

"W-wait!" Lovino exclaimed, his thoughts running through his head faster than he could put them into words. "I-I was-"

"Shuddap," the pirate said with a laugh. "Not like we care what happens to ya, come on now!" Lovino was slung over the guy's shoulder, letting out a bellow of protest. What the hell! One moment he was perfectly unknown to the crew and the next he's being brought to the captain of the ship? The men carried him across the deck, earning stares from the sailors' posts.

Looked as if his streak of luck had come to an end.

The next thing he knew he was being tossed down on the hard wood deck. His brows furrowed at the sting of pain that ran through his stiff muscles.

"What the hell?" Lovino shouted angrily, he was beyond irritated. "Let g—!"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

The voice made the Italian's blood run cold, and he turned his gaze up to the tall figure standing before him. The pirate's pale skin contrasted the navy-blue, nearly black doublet. His leather boots climbed just below his knees, and his gloved hands covered long fingers that were curled around the hilt of a shining blade. His bright green eyes were cold as he looked down upon the stowaway. Upon his tri-cornered hat fell a red fur-tail, and hanging from his ears were golden pendants that both ended at a point.

The captain of the Robin smirked at his guest, eyes filling with cold mockery.

"Captain! A ship has left the port!"

The loud cry halted all action on the sloop as one and all waited to hear what else was to be conveyed. "The Robin!"

Action was immediate, men moving to and fro to turn the course of the ship and ready the cannons. But a commanding, accented voice halted them.

"Who ordered you to prepare for battle?"

From the shadows of a cabin's door strode a tall Spanish man, his dark-brown hair that was tied in a low red ribbon flowed back in the gentle breeze and his emerald eyes bared warning. His crew looked at him, startled by the question. Finally one stepped forward, his eyes masked with confusion.

"It's the, The Robin sir."

"I heard that," said the Captain as he looked to the distance. "What of it?"

The man swallowed. "We, we're always ordered to go after them."

Exasperation was clear on the Spaniard's face as he moved forward to stand a few feet from the gunwall, his red doublet's ends fluttering in the light wind as he looked out over the sea at the boat swiftly moving towards them. "Look at the direction they are coming from. They have just come from the port, and are loaded with weapons. We would lose the battle the moment we were within range of their cannons."

"Not so."

The captain turned, anger at the fact he may be unable to attack clear in his tone. "And why do you say that, mi amigo?"

The tall, muscular man smiled warmly at the Captain. His eyes were cheerful, yet the seriousness of the situation slipped his mind not. The white shirt he wore was typical of a pirate, and he wore it buttoned down to the bottom of his chest. The green sash around his waist held a sword firmly against his left side and on his right, a loaded pistol.

"You should remember to be less…impatient. Even if your attitude only gets this bad when you're around that pirate." Normally you're a lot more bearable…

"Is that a threat?"

The first mate raised his hands, a smile spreading across his lips. "No. That port has cheap powder. It gets wet because they don't store it right. It would never give the cannonballs enough power to do any real damage. That is, any damage unless they've improved their aiming."

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo looked forward, eyes shadowed under the hat on his head while a small smirk played on his lips. "Then my crew's instincts were correct." The older man beside him slipped a white mask over his eyes, pulling his sword from its sheath. "Take them."

XXX

Well, for a first attempt at a pirate story, do you guys approve? We don't want to rush anything, but Romano staying on England's ship for a long time is a no no. ^^

We hope you enjoyed the scene details and such, they were very fun to write! And expect more cameo appearances too~

Please review!

~NightDreamers