"Captain! Captain!"
Antonio lifted his sleepy head, trying to process the voices that called frantically through his door as his men pounded on it a vigorous tempo. The weary Spaniard saw that Alfred was already gone, and probably had been since first light. The little nation had taken a position at the stern, leaning against the railing, his too blue eyes always glued to the horizon from dawn till dusk. If Antonio would have let him, he would taken his meals and slept there as well. The little nation's body had burned cherry red from his constant vigil. To Antonio's surprise he had not cried or complained even when the sun blisters broke and wept clear sticky liquid. After a week a peeling though, his skin turned a glowing golden brown color, forever losing his childish paleness. Antonio liked it though, it being so much closer to his own skin tones as he felt his claim strengthening on the boy already. He had tried talking to him several more times, but after a few failed communications decided to leave the little one to his one devices, under close eye of course. It was discovered Alfred could not swim one unfortunate day when the sea had been particularly windy, sending the little nation flying over the railing, to belly flop into the ocean and sink like a stone. Despite the gravity of the situation it convinced Alfred not to attempt any escape attempts and affirmed Antonio's thoughts on the security of the younger nation's floating prison.
Alfred continued to resist in his own little ways though. Refusing to speak to anyone was the most obvious. The only time he did talk was to complain about the food, claiming loudly that England's was far better. Antonio was beginning to think the continuous sun exposure was driving Alfred mad. Antonio also made Alfred sleep in the same bed as him though he would curl up as far away as he could into a tight ball, refusing any contact. Antonio, though disappointed, was quite used to it. He was just relieved that Alfred refrained from head butting him, like a certain angry little Italian.
"Captain! Come quick!"
"Dios mio! Que es? Que esta pasando?", Antonia groaned as he finally finished dressing himself, to fling open the door. It was then in that moment, he realized that something was extremely wrong. Though the sails were full and billowing, the galleon was not moving. His men's eyes were ringed white with terror as they practically dragged their nation to the edge of the railing to point downward. Antonio paled as he white knuckled the wood, gasping. Thick tendrils of seaweed coiled up and around the base of the vessel and right before Antonio's very eyes it was still growing. Seeking tendrils in shades of yellow and green worked their way up the side of the ship, feeling the planks like blind men's fingers for any sort of hold, nook, or cranny to hold. "What are you doing just standing there cabrons! Cut it away! Get it off the ship!", Antonio yelled, drawing his own blade to attack it.
"Captain…we have tried….we have been cutting at it for hours….it just keeps growing back.", the bowman mumbled, watching the greenery continue upward. Antonio stared back in horror at him, a sinking feeling beginning its descent downward. It was hastened by peals of bright childish laugher. Alfred looked back at him with a wide grin as he stroked tendrils wrapped themselves securely around the railing.
"I told you he would come for me.", Alfred said sweetly as he watched the ship being overrun unperturbed.
"Oh you think so chico.", Antonio snarled, grabbing the small nation roughly by the arm to drag him downward to the bowels of the ship. He snapped orders to his men as he went, his mind racing. They still had time. St Augustine was only a day away.
"Free a life boat and get to the fort! Bring reinforcements! Hell, bring everybody!", Antonio yelled.
"Captain….should we bring…him?", the first mate ventured. Antonio chewed his bottom lip in irritated thought. If they brought America to the fort, he would be better protected. On the other hand, if the nation was allowed to set foot on his own soil, he would disappear the first chance he got and then only god himself would be able to find him.
"No…leave him here. You have your orders! Vamos!", Antonio snapped coming to an abrupt stop the pair reached their destination, the brig. "Now you will see how captured nations are treated. Maybe if you are good, I will let you back up into the light. Until then, the dark will keep you company.", Antonia said bitterly as he place chains on Alfred's slender ankles and wrists, the little country whimpering softly now. Antonia took the candle with him, locking the door behind him to Alfred's frightened screams.
"Lo siento.", Antonio whispered, hanging his head.
Antonia emerged onto the deck to find the previous clear skies, darkened with black clouds moving in from the north, the thunderheads swirling angrily overhead in odd formations. The worst concentration of them was at the stern. Antonio took over Alfred's former position staring off into the distance.
"Telescope! I need a telescope now!", he called back. Antonio looked through it to see a horrifying sight. Coming toward his galleon on towering waves were ships, dozens of ships all flying English colors. Merchant vessels, military ships, and privateers, all were riding toward him on fast watery steeds. The most prominent and recognizable though was a small ship made all of polished black wood, leading the odd armada. Adjusting the sight on the telescope to its utmost abilities, Antonia could make out a lone figure riding on the shoulders of the lead ship's figure head, a weeping angel figure head. A slender figure who wore red and gold proudly as any king, though his crown was made of leather and white plumes as light flashed off the sword in the pirate's hand, his scepter of choice. Antonio let the telescope fall from his lifeless hands, his heart sinking into his frozen gut as death sailed toward them on swift wings.
"Dois mio…what have I done…..we are all dead….", Antonio whispered, covering his face with trembling fingers. He had to think quickly or all of them would be sucking down sea water very soon. The ones who didn't make it to the Deep this day would sorely wish that they had.
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The ships sailed on their waves that slowly decreased as they approached their target so that the vessels could resume normal sailing, surrounding the Spanish galleon. Antonio watched them in a cold sweat, circle his ship, realizing the only reason for the lack of canon fire was due to Alfred's potential presence on the ship. Arthur stood the shoulders of his angel, brandishing his cutlass, a evil glint in his emerald eyes, and a wide feral grin on his lips. "Give it 'em up ye Spanish bastard! I will end ye if ye do not! I have ye surrounded. Ye have no where to go", he roared, hanging from the ropes.
"Parley!"
Arthur stared in horror as a white flag was run up the mast. A stream of fluid curses flew from the pirates lips, cursing the French mostly. "Ye gutless scallywag! Come abroad and talk ye terms!", Arthur snapped, glaring at Antonio with hate filled eyes. Antonio swung abroad gracefully, unarmed, opening his arms and hands wide to prove this point, turning slowly around in a circle.
"Hola amigo.", Antonio purred, licking his lips nervously.
"Cut the crap. Where be America? Don't think I have missed that one of ye life boats is missing?", Arthur growled, pacing his discontent in front of his foe.
"Temper, temper…..calm yourself. If you want the whereabouts of your little one, all you have to do it agree to everything I have to say, and maybe, just maybe, for you amigo, I will return him to you mostly whole and unharmed.", Antonio said cloyingly sweet.
"What do ye mean maybe?", Arthur said in a low intense voice.
"Well, he has been such a feisty little nation. You should have taught him some better manners like listened to his elders and doing as he is told before punishment.", Antonio said offhandedly, playing his poor cards well, waiting for Arthur to fold as the other nation grew still, hanging his fair head low. Antonio realized too late that he had overplayed his bluff when fiery emerald eyes looked up in fury at him.
"Ye be a dead man!", growled Arthur, drawing his sword the sound of which echoed numerous times.
"We are in parley. You can not harm me by the terms of the code.", Antonio reminded him quickly casting nervous glances about him.
"Hang the code. It only applies to pirates anyway and last time I checked you were a conquistador. Besides you blind arse, I am a gentleman.", Arthur snarled, moving forward menacingly. Antonio shrugged, snapping his fingers loudly. A member of his crew quickly threw a pole axe as a spear to be caught by the Spaniard's waiting hand.
"So let us end this discussion as gentlemen.", Antonio smiled as he quipped his weapon around to be expertly paired by the gentleman pirate.
"Aye. Let's"
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Alfred was left alone in the dark, his screams his only company. He stopped when he realized all he was accomplishing was hurting his own ears. Alfred whimpered to himself, his own treacherous mind remembering every ghost story England had ever told him in vivid detail. Strange noises coming from somewhere above him, caught his attention as sharp jagged sounds of metal screaming against metal, of shots fired, and of men yelling out their final words reached his ears.
"England!", Arthur gasped, struggling to get up despite his bonds. He had to get out of here. The young nation started to flex and pull at his chains which groaned painfully as they were pulled and twisted apart by inhuman strength. Alfred stretched the metal like taffy until it snapped noisily, dropping away from him. He felt at the door, determining that is was just made mostly of wood. Normally he would never even consider this, would get in trouble for breaking things, but he thought England would forgive his this one time. It was technically Spain's door anyway. Backing as far away from it as possible, Alfred imitated his beloved buffalo, scraping his feet back in anticipation as he made himself ready. He bolted forward, slamming his shoulder against the door with all his mini might. The wood splintered outward under the sudden impact, leaving a very nice Alfred shaped hole in its demise.
The nation picked himself up from the remains of the door, running up on deck to find people fighting all around him. Most of them, he didn't recognize until he caught sight of the Rose. Weaving and dodging through the fray, his eyes locked on the black ship he had heard so much about. Alfred precariously balanced on the edge of the railing to see Antonio and Arthur locked in mortal combat. Antonio wielding his long handled axe with skill and flair, his attacks were parried smoothly blow for blow by Arthur's double wielding prowess, a cutlass in one hand and a knife in the other, as the pair danced their deadly courtship. Alfred stared openly at Arthur as the rest of the world faded away from sight and sound. His normally serious keeper was dressed as he had never seen him before, all in bright colors and odd bits of finery, a strange vibrant expression on his face. It was beautiful to Alfred, his movements, his fluid grace of form and step, the effortless ease he toyed with Antonio. Alfred was frozen to his perch, enamored with this sight before him. He failed to notice the ships shifting though, a merchant vessel in particular slamming into the side of the galleon. It did minimal damage to the structure itself but sent Alfred flying into the drink.
"ENGLAND!"
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Arthur heard his name screamed, turned around just in time to see Alfred…..falling. The moment froze perfectly in his mind's eye noting the look of terror etched on the younger nation's face, that the falling figure was taller and more gangly than previously remembered though the eyes were just as blue and hair just as fair. All this was processed by the time America hit the water. Antonio stared at the open space that had once been occupied by his English counterpart.
Arthur's feet barely touched the deck as his sword was cast somewhere, and his coat and hat went flying off in opposite direction. His slender form flew in a graceful arc as Arthur leaped off of the Rose diving into the water after his colony.
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The world beneath the wave was all in shades of turquoise, aqua, rare blues, and hidden greens, fading to darker purples and violets as Alfred sank further into the deep, the world above a fractured illusion filled with shafts of light and blurs of mad color. Alfred struggled against substance that gave him no purchase, only managing to flip himself over and over again until he lost all sense of direction. His lungs started to burn painfully for air as he clawed upward. His mouth gave up precious glittering orbs of spent breathe, mouthing silent screams. Alfred watched them float gracefully up toward that surreal shimmering ceiling with failing vision as the world around him faded to blackness.
"…..England….."
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Arthur looked with salt stinged eyes frantically back and forth in the blue world, swimming deeper, cutting through the water like a blade as he pushed himself deeper. After what seemed a lifetime, he finally saw America off in the distance floated in a perfect shaft of glowing light. It illuminated his darker skin of perfect features to a golden sheen, while giving fire to his hair, making it shine brighter than precious metals as it floated airily around him. His clothing floated about him like vestments, furling and unfurling rhythmically, his oversized white shirt could have been mistaken for a pair of wings as his slender fragile form hung ethereal, framed by intense blue so pure and still.
Arthur was struck motionless by this until a small silver bubble slipped from pale frozen lips. Arthur snapped forward, moving recklessly, muscles starting to burn reminding him of his own need to breathe. His rescue was cut short as a silvery being wrapped itself around America, curling bodily against the child. Red hair floated like a mist of fresh blood, surrounding a pale face as beautiful as the moon and as cold. The mermaid grinned ruefully at Arthur, her needle sharp teeth glistening in the shifting light, her barbed fingers drawing nearer to tender flesh. Arthur fumbled at his side pocket to produce a comb made of a white carved shell, plain and smooth. The mermaid's obsidian eyes grew wide at the sight of it. Arthur let it drop from his fingers, the comb spiraling in lazy circles downward. The mermaid streamed forward, ignoring the pair entirely now in favor of her long lost prize. Arthur swam quickly to America, grabbing him by the collar to pull him up to the light, break the surface gasping at sweet air.
"Breathe Alfred, Breathe for me love.", Arthur chanted desperately, tilting America's head as he awkwardly backstroked them both to the Rose. They were pulled up on broad immediately by the waiting crew, having subdued the Spaniard during the rescue. America was still not breathing though. Arthur started to panic as he placed his wind burned lips to America's soft plaint ones to push his own breath into his lungs.
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Alfred's eyes flew open to stare into emerald eyes, the finest he had ever seen. He became sharply aware of rough lips firmly upon his own and slender strong fingers holding his jaw open. The moment burned into his brain as it was ruined in the next when Alfred began to forcefully expel sea water, turning over onto his side to return the part of the ocean he had managed to swallow back to it.
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Arthur fell back relieved as America drew in ragged raspy breathes. He patted his colony's back, gently rubbing soothing circles into it until the smaller nation calmed down enough to breath normally. Noticing his scarlet coat nearby, Arthur retrieved it to cover America.
"Captain, the ship is ours and the prisoners have all been subdued.", the first mate reported interrupting Arthur's tender administrations.
"Excellent.", Arthur grinned widely, his bloodlust for revenge reawakened.
"Bring him here.", Arthur growled, standing up as his hat and cutlass were returned to him posthaste. Antonio was brought roughly forward, looking a little worse for wear as he was made to kneel at Arthur's feet. The pirate made him look up with the tip of his boot placed under the Spaniard's chin.
"Now me dear Antonio, we will see how much ye royalty is willing to pay for ye safe return and maybe, just maybe, for you my fond friend, I will return you unharmed and mostly whole…but I doubt it….especially after I return with you to England in chains so you can enjoy a stay in the Tower.", Arthur scoffed as the Spaniard paled noticeably.
"NO!"
Arthur looked up in surprise at the sudden outburst as a small form latched itself around his waist. "NO!", America screamed, his voice shrill with panic.
"Calm ye…yourself lad! What is it?", Arthur asked confused and a little put out as he made an effort to speak properly.
"You can't…you just got back from England! Not now!", America cried rather unintelligibly, burrowing his head almost painfully into Arthur's lean chest. Arthur ripped his colony away from him, shoving him back as he regarded him coldly.
"You insolent whelp! Do you have any idea what is going on in that thick head of yours? This nation kidnapped you, and wasted my time and many precious favors. Do you realize that I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you! Do you have anything to say for all this?", Arthur yelled at America, who looked down at his hands, tears dripping off of his cheeks like falling shards of crystal. "Well what!? What do you have to say for yourself? For all this bloody troubl…..", Arthur started to launch into another rant.
"I love you."
Arthur stopped, mid sentence to stare down at the trembling form of the smaller nation, his lovely too blue eyes turned upward now, accented by glittering, dew like tears. "I love you.", Alfred whispered just as quiet as before.
"Please don't go back…..not yet….not after all this time….Please…I swear I'll be good…..I'm sorry…..I'm so sorry….just don't go….I've missed you so much…..please Engl…..Arthur….please….I love you…..", America pleading softly, looking up hesitantly into his keeper's face. The smaller nation edged forward tentatively until he could wrap his arms around a slender waist again, crying softly into it, still begging silently, mouthing the words against soaked skin. Gently hands gripped him tightly back as Arthur buried his face into strands of still damp satiny hair, rocking them both gently. Arthur bent down to pick up America in his arms bridal style, pressing him close to him as he turned to leave.
"Captain?" came the hesitant call.
"Tie the Spaniard and his crew to their main mast and leave them be. Strip the ship of anything of worth as well. We are leaving.", Arthur said tiredly, barely pausing in his retreat.
"But Captain…"
"Are you questioning my orders?", Arthur turned fully around to stare down all the men present, his eyes glittering with promised extreme and very bloody violence for the next man who hindered him again.
"No Captain. Very good Captain."
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"So how long is it going to take to get home?", Alfred yawned, kicking his feet idly at he watched England sew.
"Sweet bleeding hell, for the last time, about a week.", Arthur groaned as he completed his task. Alfred had no clothes and noone on the ship wore his size, so England was currently in process of alternating some of his old wardrobe into suitable garments for him. Alfred particularly like the blue coat, drawn to its rich color. Arthur chewed the end of the thread above the knot, cutting it neatly as he shook the garment out, appraising his own handiwork approvingly.
"Alright, time for bed.", England stated firmly, folding the shirt neatly as he rose from the bed. Alfred moaned dramatically, dragging his feet like a condemned man, crawling into the bad reluctantly. Arthur bent over him to press his lips to a tanned forehead.
"Sweet dreams, love. I will be to bed soon.", England said softly, brushing Alfred's stubborn ahoge out of his face. Alfred wiggled until he was comfortably, watching England leave through half lidded eyes. When he was alone, his finger strayed first to his forehead then to his lips, caressing the outline of them, remembering the feel of wind burned lips upon them, rough but soft as well, all at the same time. The scent of rain and strange earth lingered in the air as Alfred fell asleep, confusing thoughts and wants muddling his heart and head.
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Arthur walked over to the figure head of the weeping angel, leaning over to caress her fair faded cheek. A voice below him drew his attention downward but did not surprise him at sharp yellow eyes glared at him. "You did well. Do you really want it off though?", Arthur said softly.
"Too long I have lived with this curse, trapped in a tomb that has no sound.", the kraken croaked back, using his slimy appendages to draw himself up the side of the ship, nearer to the nation.
"You will die you know without it.", Arthur reminded him gently.
"Perhaps it is about time. I have wanted to rest for so long. I am so tired.", the kraken said sadly.
"Then rest dear one. I forgive your betrayal. May you find Fiddler's Green, Grinning Jack.", Arthur murmured, passing his fingers along the mark, the black sigil fading from existence as the putrid flesh fell away to briefly reveal a man as he fell back into the ocean, dead before he hit the water. Arthur sighed to himself, hopping back onto the deck. He longed to rest as well, though not as permanently, in the arms of the one he loved most above all.