Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or anything used in this story.

Author's Note: Thanks for the favorites so far! I really appreciate it :) It gives me the motivation to write more! Hope to see some reviews on this chapter!


Pain. That was all I felt.

It was a throbbing pain in the back of my head. I tried opening my eyes, yet winced at the brightness of the lit room. I rubbed my eyes and slowly opened them. I was staring up at a musty, once-white, wooden ceiling. The smell of the sea awakened my senses, and I remembered what had happened last night.

Last night! I immediately sprung up from where I laid down, forgetting that I had a serious migraine. I fell back and clutched my head in pain, shutting my eyes closed for a few seconds. I once again opened my eyes and slowly got up this time. I looked around. There was a beautifully crafted desk in the corner of the spacious room. Opposite that desk was a near by table with a tea set standing perfectly still on top. The tea pot had steam coming from it. Someone had been expecting her to awake soon. She looked down at the place where she awoke. It was a large, neatly folded bed. There were silk linens and the pillows were made of cotton and pure white satin. Whose bed had that been? I looked down at myself, thankfully wearing the same clothes I had on before I was knocked out. I tried remembering what the man looked like from last night. I couldn't fully remember.

I took a few wobbly and very unsure steps towards the only door in the room. As I turned the knob, I found it to be locked. I felt panic well up deep inside me. I was alone and locked up in some strange, floating vessel. Why did this happen to me? I felt tears well up in my eyes.

"Feeling a bit homesick, love?" The same British voice from the night before flooded my mind. I quickly turned around to see the owner of the voice delicately sipping a cup of tea, sitting on a far by sofa near a bookcase. How did I not see him? I blinked away my tears, no wanting to look afraid.

"Don't you dare call me that, you filthy pig." I spat at him. He smirked devilishy and shook his head.

"Tsk tsk tsk. No manners at all." He stood up and lightly placed the tea cup on the coffee table in front of him. "Considering your current position, I can call you whatever I want to." He said as smooth as velvet. What a despicable man he was. "But being the gentleman that I am, I must ask the fair lady what she wishes to be called, yes?" He walked slowly towards me, causing me to step backwards.

"I'd rather not you call me anything, let alone my name." I spoke fearlessly at him. I was still unaware of who this man could be. All I knew, was that he was the most ridiculous pirate I've ever seen. The thought made me smirk.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. I cannot believe you even spoke this way in my presence." He frowned and shook his head once more, "You are in need of manners, young miss." He looked straight at me, staring straight into my soul with those piercing, emerald eyes. "Now I shall ask once more, what do you wish to be called? No answer will result in me calling you whatever I like. Maybe the world 'wench' would be glamorous enough." He had gotten much closer to me, at an arms length already.

"M-Michelle..." I squeaked out. His mouth perked up at the ends.

"See? Was it really that hard? I like the name Michelle far more than 'wench'. Don't you?" He invaded my personal space even more. Putting his arms on both sides of me. I slowly nodded and my breathe hitched as he gently tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. He had taken off his gloves, revealing surprisingly soft hands, well, for a pirate. I shivered as he began grazing my collarbones with the back of his hand. "Why so tense, Michelle?" I winced at the sound of him speaking my name. He put his face close to mine, nearly closing the gap between us. My breathe quickened as he refused to blink, still staring into my eyes. I flinched. He noticed and chuckled, backing away slowly. "You are such a fascinating creature. You will be great entertainment for me and the rest of the crew."

My stomach dropped at that last sentence. I was merely an 18 year old girl. How could I handle these frightening men? When I thought The mysterious pirate had given up on me, he reached into his pocket and pressed me against the wall once again. He then gently pushed the piece of parchment into the top of her corset. A furious blush had creeped up from my neck and now invaded my sun-kissed cheeks. He then turned slowly to leave, unlocking the door, and turning over his shoulder only to say one last thing, "And by the way, my name is Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland." I remembered that name, seeing it on many 'wanted' posters back home. I stopped breathing for a second. What had I gotten myself into?


Hope you liked it! The chapters after this will be longer. This is more like a little taste of what's coming in the future. Please review! :)