For the purpose of this fiction I will be using their human names. It's a AU fiction so a lot of the things won't be included in here as they would be in the original series. Axis Powers Hetalia does not belong to me, and neither do the character. Thank you for reading and feel free to review or comment as you please.

On another note; I know that there are a few more other fictions like this out there, don't comment solely based on the fact that there are other fictions that have a pirate and a landlubber or whatever the hell you want to refer to them as. I've been working on this for some time, just thought I'd throw that out there. Because I've read those fictions doesn't mean that they are the only reason I wrote this. It had a lot to do with PotC too~

Thanks for reading my tl;dr comment and story!

Chapter One; Relentless Memories from an Overbearing Mind

"Arthur!"

It seemed that every time he fell asleep, his dreams would start out the same way.

He would be lying in a thick waving field of lush green grass, his legs dangling off the edge of a coulee of sorts overlooking a view of a vast wide ocean meeting the sky in the middle. Clear and blue. Wide and effortlessly beautiful; a beauty so unyielding to the eyes of the beholder that not even a painting by the greatest of that era could replicate perfectly. His green eyes shielded behind the skin of his eye lids, repelling the sun but also relishing it. A cool breeze whipped through grass, brushing against his skin, whispering in his ears, and carrying the pure smell of the salty ocean along with it.

"Arthur!"

There was that call again; coming from some forgotten place in his mind. Or was it there with him? In this very field where he lay, so close to the ocean he could taste the salt in his mouth every time he took a breath. It couldn't be. No, that voice had left a long time ago. It was gone with the wind, gone with his trust, his loyalty even his heart. He knew he was never to hear it again outside of his dreams, and yet…it felt so real. But he couldn't trust his dreams anymore than he could trust the colonial armies. He knew that it was a dream. If there was one thing he did know in this twisted mind of his…it was that dreams were too good to come true. Dreams were an unattainable thing that humans came up with to get out of their current lives and states of mind. He hated them, and yet, there he was. Laying in the memories of his childhood and blissfully unaware of what was happening in the real world.

He opened his eyes, taking in the scenery of long forgotten days. The cliff he would sit at with his friends and jest around like the children they were. He looked out to the horizon and whispered into the wind, letting it carry his words off elsewhere. A place where no one could hear the cherished words;

"We'll meet again one day Arthur. At a place where the sea meets the sky…I promise you that."

What was he to do? Wait on the damned beach he was never able to return to like some blasted maiden waiting for her lover to return from war!? He would have none of that. No sir! He'd be damned if he was to wake each day to the rocky beaches of some god forsaken spit of land in the middle of nowhere. Waiting and praying for the arrival of his "lover." Thick brows scrunched to meet in the middle of his forehead. He internally cursed his childhood friend for plaguing his mind with his unnecessary banter of better days and unrequited love.

He turned to the place where the sea met the sky and yelled at the top of his lungs, the anger was evident in his face as he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. "You blasted fool! These are my dreams, let me dream them as I please and leave me the bloody hell alone!" He had no time for such penniless fantasies that sputtered nothing but lies. His boots clopped against the sodden grass as he stood up off the ground. The earth stuck to the fabric of his coat stubbornly as his attempts to brush the brown and green spots from his otherwise spotless coat were proven futile. Exactly the same as it had been last night ad the night before that…even a fortnight ago! Nothing had changed. It was the same thing every night and he was growing tired of it. It must mean something.

Maybe he was finally being reprimanded for his sins against humanity. Pillaging and plundering villages and killing innocent people as if he lived and breathed off their mutilated screams. Of course that was far from the truth, he had never been one to kill just for the fun of it. No that was the job of others. Not his, never his. Nothing was ever his.

His thoughts were stopped dead in their tracks as he stood there, staring out at the setting sun, the eerie feeling of being watched washed over him and his snapped his body around to face the person who dare intrude on his dreams and thoughts as if they owned the place; his sword brandished at the ma—boy's neck? A light, airy giggle filled the meadow and bright, clear, crystal blue eyes stared up at him meeting with his own emerald green ones. He felt the tears bite at the back of his eyes and he blinked to keep them back. Willing them to go back to where ever the hell they came from. He would not cry!

"I found you…Arthur!" His eyes snapped open again and he stared down at the vision of the young child in front of him. Nothing more than a figment of his imagination. He alone was proof that the man was only dreaming. Nothing good came out of dreams where you got what you most desired and it stared you in the eyes. He fell to his knees, dropping the metal blade into the grass and sitting eye to eye with the standing child. A lone tear rolled down his cheek.

"Alfred…"

He snapped up from his sleeping position. A cool sheen of sweat covered his skin and soaked through the thin half buttoned shirt he had put on that night as a make shift night gown. What the hell just happened? It was obviously a dream but—Why! Why of all things did it have to be that…those eyes that he remembered from so long ago? But most of all, why did it disturb him so much to see that? He sat in his bed, pondering the questions and examining the boards of the wooden walls with no interest what so ever. His body was hunched over, the silence was nothing but eerie. But even he had to remember. Silence is still a sound…

There was a reason he hated bunking in towns for the night. That reason was solely that he wasn't on the ocean anymore. The familiar rock of the ship under his bed was not there to lull him to sleep. Nor was it there when he walked along the hard rocks of the cobble paved streets, he had no experience with his so called "land legs" anymore. For his legs were built only for the sea. This point was proven further when he stood from the bed he had been laying in. Or rather, attempted to stand from—his foot got tangled in the mass of sheets he had been provided with and as he tried to stand up, his legs only served to buckle under the sudden weight and the unwanted pull from the blankets. Sending the sandy blonde head over heals and crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs and blankets.

"Good…lord."

The average height man put a hand on the beds mattress and gripped it, using quite a bit of strength to pull his half asleep self up from the hard wood floor. He huffed loudly and smoothed out the wrinkled shirt to look in a mildly normal state then dropped all the sheets he had managed to take with him. After a quick once over, he made his way to the door, yanking it open with enough force to pull it clear off its hinges if he wasn't being careful. Which he was of course. Arthur was always careful after all. Well, most of the time; but for now other things could be said as he shut the door behind him a lot quieter than he had opened it, but only served to run right into another person.

Wait, why was there someone standing out side his door?

"I didn't mean to intrude sir, but I heard a bang…are you alright?" The man looked around a bit before scaling his eyes down to the small figure in front of him. He spoke next in a bit of a heavy accent.

"Kiku..I'm fine, just…fell out of bed. Go back to sleep would you man! It's ridiculously early and we leave in a few hours, you need your rest. I'm simply going to get some air." With that he shuffled to the side slightly and walked around the boy towards the stairs that would lead him towards the roof of the old rickety building. There was just something about this town that reminded him of his childhood days with the scandalous little rapscallion of a boy he couldn't get off his mind…

Perhaps it was his destination that gave him an all too ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

After the near encounter with the ghost in his pantry, Alfred had fled to his not so far away tool shed of sorts and locked himself in there for a few hours. That had been earlier that evening and he had lost track of time a few minutes after setting foot in the shed. Clearly he hadn't been thinking right those many hours before, for when he finally gathered enough courage to open to door to let himself out and back into the house, he found the door locked. Completely forgetting that he had the door set so it locked from the outside (Just in case he had to lock anyone away you know? Keep them hostage or what have you…) he jerked against it. Not really realizing at first the predicament he put himself into. He pushed the door again, using his shoulder this time. Once more, still the wooden door would not budge. He glared at it as if the simple stare would make it scared enough to open for him. But of course nothing in his life was that easy.

He dug the toe of his boot into the dirt, his body working faster than his brain as he moved for the chain saw in the corner of the shed. He kept it there for a range of purposes. One of them being this…but of course he had thought ahead…but of course not far enough to if there was actually someone in the shed he wanted to stay in the shed. The blonde boy grabbed it by the handle and revved it to life. Cutting a hole just big enough for him to fit through and stepping out of the shed. Throwing the over sized chain saw into the shed again he picked up the failed attempt at a circle and tried to fit it back into its place. But nothing…nothing in Alfred's life was ever that easy. He chucked the wood over his shoulder and headed back towards his house. But not after noticing how high the sun had risen already. It was easily mid morning… How long had he been cooped up in there?

He shrugged to himself, it didn't really matter right? As long as he was out now! He stared at the risen sun that climbed its way in the sky, slowly inching up as the seconds passed by. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

*"Red sky in the mornin'; Sailors warnin'…" The sky was indeed an eerie shade of red, but was tinted more orange where the sun and the sky met. His lip quirked up into a half smile and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, turning on his heel and starting back towards the house. They were the ones with the holes in the knees that he always wore on his "working around the house" days. More like lazing around the house days… Little did he know that his day wouldn't be all that lazy, for as the sun drew higher in the sky as did the flag on the ship. He had so easily shrugged it off, the feeling of impending doom and gloom that had started in the pit of his stomach and wracked his body with a little quake.

"'Gents!" An all too familiar voice echoed off the wooden planks off the suddenly silent ship as all eyes turned to their captain. The jade-eyed man stared out at his crew with a proud smile gracing his lips. "It's time." He turned his back to his crew; eyes scanning the lengths of the ocean as a rowdy cheer pulsated through the air and into his ears. He had sailed these seas many a time, and conquered them over and over again. Fought many a battle on the deck of his ship, faced fears that not many a man in their life could have fought proudly and won. Defeating many oppressing enemies, natural and man…yet nothing frightened him more than the site of that god forsaken spit of land his ship was headed towards.

He brandished his sword and pointed it towards the island he would rightfully take back as his. Letting his blade lead the way as the sails of his ship flew proud and true above him. The crew men did the same. Some brandished swords, others guns, a select few some other miscellaneous weaponry. Only they all let out proud cries into the awaiting sky that was blue as the day it was born. While Arthur Kirkland in all his twenty-some year glory lowered his sword and stared at the place with a hard glare.

"I'm coming home, my friend."

AN:/

*An old rhyme used by sailors to signify the days ahead of them. If the sky was red in the morning it signified a day of blood shed was upon them. Another version of this rhyme (the British/Scottish known one) "Red sky in the morning shepherds warning." The ending to this rhyme is "red sky at night Shepherds/Sailors delight." In case you were unaware.