I do not own Hetalia. OK? Good. On with chapter 1!

omano knew something wasn't right the moment he opened his eyes. He couldn't see. His knees were pressed to his chest, and he couldn't move. The air smelt like old wine.

Where was he?

Why couldn't he see?

...What the hell was making his butt feel wet?

Then it hit him. He was in a wine barrel... Who in their right mind would put someone in a wine barrel? Is that even possible? Romano thought for a while and decided that it was probably Prussia's stupid idea. Or France. But most likely Prussia.

I've got to get out of here!

Carefully feeling around the small space, he felt for a weak spot in the wood. When he found what he was looking for, he pressed against it. The wood cracked, and Romano fell out onto the floor. Rubbing his head, he sat up only to see several sets of eyes staring at him.

Romano wished he had stayed in the barrel. Just because he was known for the mafia did not mean that he went looking for trouble. These men, with their broken teeth, old clothes, and greedy smiles were nothing buttrouble…

… They were Pirates.

A man with a dark beard leaned over. "What do we 'ave here?"

"Looks like a spy," Said another.

Several of the pirate drew their swords. One with a somewhat toothless grin swung his as a challenge. Romano did the thing any good Italian would do.

He ran.

Honestly, he felt ridiculous for acting so cowardly, but he had no way to protect himself from the cutlass in the man's hand. He grabbed a wooden chair and threw it at the men. Turning around, he bolted toward the door.

He thought he was free. He thought he would be safe. He was wrong.

There was a sharp stabbing pain in his side. Romano collapsed and fell to the ground. Tears, which were not supposed to be there, stung his eyes. A strong hand grabbed his hair and he gasped in pain as he was lifted to the air.

"I don't know, Capt'n. He don't look smart enough to be a spy. Look at his clothes. They be quite strange."

The captain frowned. Pushing Romano against the wall he drew his sword.

"Tell me boy, who are ye? Who be the one to tell ye to spy here?"

Romano stared at the shiny silver metal in his face. His side hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced, but he didn't dare move a muscle.

He gulped. "I-I'm Romano, Southern I-Italy."

The pirates burst into laughter.

"Please! That be too much!" One man said.

The captain did not seem so amused. He flared his nostrils and placed the tip of his sword under Romano's chin.

"Don't think I'll show any mercy to ye. If ye wants to keep ye head the' way it be, I suggest ye be tellin' me who sent ye," He said.

The floor shook causing bottles to fall from the shelfs an crash. The bearded man lost his balance and let go of Romano. The sword cut Romano's face as he collapsed to the floor.

"What in Davy Jones's locker was that?" The captain man fumed.

A scrawny looking boy ran through the doors. He had fear in his eyes. "Capt'n! We be under attack by th' Wanderin' Pillager!"

The captain swore and ran out of the room, leaving Romano alone bleeding on the floor.

Romano looked at his side and realized that he had been clenching the area where the sharp pain had occurred. Slowly, he peeled his hand away. Blood began to ooze through his new Italian suit.

"Fuck, I guess it doesn't matter anymore," He mumbled. He took off his jacket and ripped off a sleeve. He tied it around his waist to help stop the bleeding. Leaving the now useless jacked behind, he leaned against the wall and stood up, limping towards a door. Unfortunately, before he could get through the door he heard heavy footsteps approaching him.

Desperate to find a hiding place, Romano jumped back into the barrel, praying that whoever was coming wasn't thirsty.

The person entered the room and stopped. Someone sighed.

"Alright, you are the most pathetic pirate I've ever seen. You left a blood trail. I know you're there," A voice said. It was different from the others. It sounded amused and kind. Like someone Romano knew...

No. Romano was not coming out. Sure he could get stabbed through the open top, but the pirate would have to approach the barrel first.

The man sighed and approached the barrel. Romano felt a shadow fall over him. He cowered and began to cry. He didn't want to die. At least not in an empty wine barrel. Now, a full wine barrel wouldn't have been so bad...

"Hey come on, The rest of your crew is tied up on deck. I won't hurt you, but you have to sit with the rest of them." Romano felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. He looked up to see two familiar green eyes.

"You are probably the oddest pirate I've ever seen," said the pirate with green eyes.

He helped Romano out of the barrel and tilted his head. "Come to think of it, you're the strangest man I've ever seen."

Romano stared at the man. He was so familiar, and yet he couldn't quite place his finger on who exactly this guy was.

The man strode in a laid back way, as if being a pirate was a walk in the park. His red coat got caught on a table and he tripped. His hat fell off to reveal messy brown hair.

"Well that was graceful," The man laughed. His laugh was carefree and happy. It was familiar. He hated all this familiarity. He wanted answers.

"You don't seem to understand your situation very well, amigo. Are you even part of the crew?" The man asked as he sat down with a bottle in his hand.

Romano didn't answer. He was planning an escape.

"You don't even know who I am, do you?" The pirate said.

He stood up and looked at Romano.

"I am captain of the Wandering Pillager, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," he said

Romano's eyes widened. Why didn't he see it before?

"S-Spain!" He cried. Later, he decided, he would scold himself for acting so much like Italy. However after all those pirates, it was probably ok to let go a little. Besides, this was Spain. He would understand…

…or not. Immediately, Spain shot forward and threw Romano to the ground. Once again, Romano had a sword in his face.

Why do pirates always point swords in peoples' faces? Romano thought.

"You've got a lot of nerve sayin' my name out loud like that. Tell me, who sent you?" Spain said.

Romano shook. "W-what?"

Spain's eyes narrowed in anger. He pressed his sword against Romano's neck. The pressure was just enough to scare Romano stiff. From his angle, Spain was more terrifying than the failed attempt at pasta England made when he and Italy were sick.

"Don't play stupid. I've seen assassins before. Who sent you?" Spain said.

"Nobody! I don't even know where I am," Romano said.

Spain rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Like I've never heard that one before. Who are you?"

"Stop acting like this, Spain. It's me, Romano!" Romano said.

Spain shook his head. "I don't know anyone named Romeo."

"You idiot, it's Romano. How can you not remember me? You are my best friend. You torture me with tomatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Stop acting so damn strange."

Romano felt the sword pull away from his skin. He looked up to see Spain ribbing his eyes. He looked so tired. There was a gunshot and a thud. Spain looked up and frowned.

"God, I told them not to kill anyone this time," he muttered. He turned his attention back to Romano.

"You stay here. I'll be right back," he said. He lifted Romano to his feet and led him to a chair. Taking out a dagger, he pointed it at Romano.

"Sp-spain. Why are you pointing that at me?" Romano asked nervously.

"Hold still," Spain ordered as he stabbed at his left sleeve. "There. I'll be back."

Romano looked at the chair. His sleeve was caught by the dagger. For a while, he pulled at the dagger, but it was stuck. He tried cutting his sleeve, but it was no use. He was stuck. In a pirate ship. With a crazier than normal Spain.

Stupid luck.

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