Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

A/N: This chapter is on the short side as well, but my plan to keep the chapters shorter so I can update quicker is proving a success... so the structure of A Priceless Gift will probably continue in this manner. On that note, I hope you enjoy chapter two!

"Sleep Deprived"

When the morning's wretched sunlight interrupted Arthur's dark quarters, he was unwillingly hauled from his drunken slumber. Fucking sunlight. Arthur buried his head in the crook of his arm, where it lay heavily on his desk. He urged his body to go back to sleep; he did not want to wake up. He was going to have one hell of a hangover that he didn't particularly want to deal with.

Unfortunately for the sea captain, fate had other plans for him. A loud, eager knock at the door gave way to a voice that was too-cheery for this early in the morning. "Captain Kirkland, breakfast is ready, if you'd like to come down to the galley."

Arthur scowled into his desk even though he knew his first mate could not see his reaction. "Captain?" the voice sounded again.

Observing that ignoring his subordinate would not sufficiently rid him of his presence, Arthur grunted a disinterested curt reply. "No, William, I won't come down; start without me." It was silent outside for a moment, and Arthur sighed in relief at the prospect of going back to sleep.

"Captain, are you sure you wouldn't like someone to bring you up a serving? It isn't good for your health to skip meals. Perhaps—"

Arthur's eye twitched in angry frustration. He was the captain; nobody was going to tell him what to do or how to run his ship. "I said," Arthur barked, jumping up from his chair, "I don't bloody want breakfast. You are dismissed!" The captain swayed momentarily as he attempted to gain his balance. Thanks to his little outburst, his head killed as the room spun unsteadily. Fucking headache.

Arthur moved to sit back down when the insolent voice of his first mate traveled through the door once more. "Captain, sir," he hesitated, concerned for his captain, but fearful of his temper. "Sir, might I inquire…?" It was unlike Captain Kirkland to skip meals, with the exception of instances in which his crew suffered from great hunger. Only when each member of his crew was short on food and at risk of illness did Captain Kirkland refuse to eat a single morsel—offering his men as much of the limited nourishment that was available. "…why…"

Though his actions afforded great respect and devotion from his men, his actions also brought deep concern. It was in these moments when Captain Kirkland grew most anxious and restless—not weak, for he was never perceived to be vulnerable before his men—but certainly uneasy with the situation. His men did not like to admit it to their captain, in fear that he would call them fragile, but they worried for his stability. Captain Kirkland took many responsibilities upon his own shoulders—too many for a single man to handle without assistance.

As first mate on the Wicked Thorn, William Hannigan felt a personal responsibility to endeavor to lesson Captain Kirkland's stress as much as possible. "I mean to say, Captain, that I believe it would be prudent of you to—"

Enough of this. Arthur stumbled toward the door, accidentally crushing the already broken figurehead—the piece he had held so tenderly the evening before—further into oblivion with his boot. "Damn it all to hell!" he cursed aloud.

"Sir?"

Arthur drew his eyes away from the completely obliterated figurehead and stomped irritably toward the door, eager to terminate the current situation so he may drift back into his own indulged ignorance.

The captain forced the door open with a single fluid, violent motion, startling the concerned first mate opposite the threshold. Despite his inner vexation, Arthur strived to repress a large fraction of his hostility from invading his voice. Through clenched teeth, Captain Kirkland gave his ultimatum. "William, I believe I told you that you were dismissed! I do not want to go down to breakfast, nor do I wish it brought up for me! Now, leave me in peace." When his first mate made no motion toward departing, Arthur added on a chilling "Immediately."

William shot a doubtful glance toward Captain Kirkland, but bowed respectfully. "Yes, Captain. Understood." Arthur's first mate departed cautiously, leaving the sea captain to his desired silent solitude.

Arthur closed his door with a little more force than necessary. Finally! How hard is it to fucking follow orders!All I want is to go back to sleep in the quiet seclusion of my own cabin; is that too much to bloody ask for?

With a sigh of defeat, Arthur glanced once more at the broken mess from the previous evening. Deciding that the task of cleaning the broken glass from the floor was too much for his headache to endure, Arthur stumbled to his thin mattress in the southern corner of his quarters. Finally, I can retreat under the covers until this bloody headache subsides.

Arthur pulled the thick quilt that he had brought with him on his journey close around his neck as his eyelids drooped heavily against his flushed cheeks. He would worry about Alfred's mess later. He would harden his countenance once again, later. He would block out thoughts of him later. Each was a dreaded, but significant task that would have to be completed soon. However, for now, he desperately needed to sleep off his current plague.

A/N: Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read this story. I apologize for these first couple of chapters being relatively uneventful, but it is imparitive to the rest of the story that I set the scene well. I promise that the story will pick up shortly, so I hope you will stick around to see what will happen next. Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited/alerted/reviewed this story! You mean the world to me! xo Please feel free to leave your comments! I always like hearing what others think of my writing! Until the next chapter~~ much love.