We hit another bump, sending my dozing head upright. The day was late now as the sun crept ever so closer to the western horizon. I watched as little wispy clouds condensed and then vanish without a moment's notice.

The man sitting beside me was middle aged. Well, he would be if I was in my current time that is. He was considered old here, because after listening to him ramble for an hour or so, I came to realize that everything was as if in the early fifteen hundreds. The wording, the slight difference in dialect, our surroundings. Everything was like it was when I was a kid, with some minor alterations.

One, the house that looks so near exactly alike to my Isabell Hernando-Carriedo's is owned by a man named also named Carriedo. I don't remember her having any family besides her father Iberia, but even then he was long dead before I came to live with her.

Another thing was that the technology is a bit off. They still use these horse drawn carts. By the fifteen hundreds, we were using these gear types that ran by turning a handle.

Lastly, we had implemented nice, smooth concrete roadways. It was much more productive than dirt or cobblestone like this one.

The man spoke up suddenly saying that we would reach the harbor just before nightfall. I nodded and tugged at the hair tie he had given to me earlier. I wasn't used to my hair being put up by ribbons. That was something my sister Alice liked to do since her hair was long. My cocoa locks would just brush the tops of my shoulders in flowing curly waves.

Not that I hated that or anything. In fact, because of its length, I wasn't really questioned. Spanish women took great pride in the upkeep of their hair. The longer the better.

I glanced to the man driving the cart with a languid smile on his face.

My short hair saved me. That and my lack of cup size…

Moving along at a steady pace on the bumpy lane was quiet and thoughtful. Hopefully I can get some real clothes soon.

Businesses, carts, fish and produce, and people. So many people. This really was a busy port. Even though it was almost night, bodies bustled to and fro to complete exchanges and put away their wares. It was almost chaotic appearing. All I could do was stare at fast moving scene in awe.

At least I won't really be noticed?

I started to compile a mental list in my head and think of an escape route that would benefit me in the long run in case of complications. For the sake of me, and my people, I cannot get caught.

A country's life is their people's lives. Do not fall. Keep standing strong for them.

Even if I can't feel anyone, it's better to be safe than sorry.

The cart came to a jerky halt and I held on for fear of falling. About to jump off as soon as the cart stopped its shaking, I was startled out of my mind when a hand grabbed my shoulder familiarly.

"¡ Vamos!" the man cheerfully exclaimed over the loud crowds.

Great…

I sighed bitterly, before climbing down to grab the heavy trunk and bag. The man rubbed his back and stretched before going to the horse to call out orders. I looked around and saw only a few boats and a couple ships out on the water. One of them was where this Carriedo was on. I couldn't guess which one though.

Maybe he's a merchant? He might be on one of those transport boats.

"Bien, aquí hemos terminado." (1)

I turned to look at him and nodded with a slight frown. I needed to get out of here. I don't know how, but there has to be a way. No matter what happens, I need to leave as soon as I drop these things off.

The man walked off toward the docks and I followed. The trunk was really heavy. I wish I could say that I was a girl and make him carry it, but that'd be death.

Cross-dressing like this reminds me of Hungary. He'd love doing something like this.

Instead of analyzing my surroundings, I imagined Hungary as a woman willingly dressing up as a man.

Ha! Mai in questa vita. (2)

"Ven, ven. Aprúrate." (3)

Shifting my hold on the trunk, I grunted and sped up my walking. We turned to the water and I looked at the ship we would be temporally boarding.

Santo cazzo… (4)

Small trading ship, my ass. Never had it dawned on me that this man would be on a large Spanish galleon. I recognized the tell-tale four masts standing tall above the great ship. I'd never been on one, but after being around for hundreds of years, no one would dare forget how versatile these vessels could be.

The New World. This Carriedo man is traveling to the New World. Somewhere in Latin America. Oh Maria… This is history right in front of me.

I stared in awe at the fact that this ship would be traveling so far and with—well, who knows who else would be on board. This was history in the making and I'm here to watch it. We walked along the dock and up to deck where I shifted the weight of the trunk in my grasp.

So heavy…

Busy men flitted back and forth doing their jobs by moving provisions and cargo. The man with me went over to a not-so preoccupied deck hand and started conversing with him. They were out of earshot so I couldn't hear anything, but I did see a few eyes wander my way appearing curious. The younger man nodded and pointed towards the back of the ship where the doors to get to the captain's cabin were. My traveling partner came back to me and guided me through the small crowd of sailors to the cabin entrance. I heaved the trunk up again and grinded my teeth at how much my fingers were starting to hurt.

" ¿Hay algún problema?" he asked me. (5)

A sharp grunt and rough "no" was my curt response as I huffed at the furniture in my hold.

When he finally signaled me to put it down, I almost dropped it on my feet in relief. I leaned my palms on the top before standing up to meet the eyes of my elder companion. His furrowed brows and uneasy expression was what had me nervously glancing to the left. A tall young man, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes stood with arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

I swallowed and took the bag off my shoulder and set it down next to the trunk.

"¿Quién eres? No sé de ti." (6)

His voice sounded gravelly and upset. I straightened my shoulders and pursed my lips. I didn't want to believe it, but I had a strong feeling that this was Carriedo. If Isabell cut her hair and grew manly features, this would probably be her when angry. I cleared my throat and tried to make it deeper sounding.

"Sólo soy un siervo, maestro," I responded as politely and subservient as possible. (7)

He narrowed his eyes at that though and deepened the frown he wore.

Did I say something wrong?

"No trabajas para mí. ¿Quién eres!" (8)

I jerked at the sudden shout and tried my best to rack up an apology and excuse. How was I supposed to know that I was going to be meeting the master of the house? How was I supposed to know that he knew every one of his servants? He stalked up to me and I made the mistake of backing up. He grabbed me by the collar of the shirt I stole and glowered down at my frightened self.

"Eres un polizón." (9)

What does that mean?! I'm confused now. What're you accusing me of?

He shoved me away with a snarl and practically barked at the elder man. I watched in terror as he punched him to the floor then turn and kick the trunk. My wide eyes watched the elder man cough and stay down, looking as if he failed at life itself.

Before I could stop myself, I turned to Carriedo and kicked his leg in.

Carriedo fell to his knees and grabbed my wrist to bring me down sharply. I fell on the trunk elbow first and yelped at the stabbing pain that radiated through my arm. Pushing his weight to brace up on me, I found myself in a very compromising position. I stared at the fiery green eyes that glared daggers. His forearm was along my neck, practically blocking off all oxygen, and a fist raised, ready to unleash an onslaught of attacks to my face.

"Dime quién eres o ser asesinado por mi mano." (10)

Out my mind wheezing, I gasped out a muffled "fuck you" in the World's language. He didn't seem to hear and only pushed harder. The door to the cabin opened and a man's voice called out to Carriedo. He shoved himself off me and looked to the new man who was trying hard not to make eye contact with neither me nor the old man.

"Hermos dejado el puerto, Señor España," the sailor reported. (11)

My face fell. I only heard the words "left port".

Left port? We're leaving now? No!

I scrambled up to my feet and collided shoulders with both Carriedo and the sailor as I ran out of the cabin and to the deck. The ship hadn't gone too far, but it was enough to where I almost had tears in my eyes.

I can still jump off and swim! I'll make it! My thoughts rushed through my mind a thousand kilometers a hour as I reached my hands to grab the rail and hoist my body up swing over the side. Two hands grabbed my arms and pulled me back.

"No! Mi lasci andare!" I screamed in Italian. "Rilascio di me, bastardo!" (12)

My slim body was forced down to the deck's floor before being held forcefully. Arms pinned to my sides, legs kicking out and hair now loose and wild as I shook violently against whoever was keeping me aboard. I yelled again and almost bit my tongue when I was punched.

Gasping at the pain, I looked up to Carriedo who was returning my gaze. Though his expression was very, very upset. Other men surrounded us and I realized that the person holding me wasn't the sailor who had come into the room, but the old man. His arms kept me to him fast and I ceased my struggles. I wasn't going anywhere.

"Es un Italiano. Es un polizón! Encharlo en cadenas." (13)

Men moved aside and a sailor came to assist the old man and locking me up. As they dragged me away from the others, I stared hatefully at the man with green eyes. He sneered and shouted at our retreating forms to be heard throughout the entire ship.

"Que se pudra!" (14)

I have never hated a mortal man so much in my entire existence.

Author's Note

Wowie. Okay, so let's start from the beginning. This is Chiara Vargas. She is the representative of Southern Italy and a personification of the people who live there and believe themselves to be citizens (they don't have to be official citizens for her to feel them). Okay, so Nyotalia North Italy is Alice (pronounced Al-ee-chay)Vargas. Chiara has short dark brown hair and Alice has long light brown hair. Chiara is about a 34B while Alice is a 34C (poor things/ oh who am I kidding, I'm Alice's size). So now that you know that, all you need to understand is that I'm the creator of Hetalia meets Nyotalia on DeviantArt. It's hard to move from a doujinshi to regular fanfiction, but I'm trying. In Hetalia meets Nyotalia, Hetalia Rome caused a shift in power in the Nyotalia universe making the Roman empire last longer than it was supposed to. Hence why in here, Chiara mentioned that the technology was different. The Dark Ages didn't really happen and nations flourished with technology and intelligence. Now that being said, History is still kind of matching around this point. Europe in Nyotalia didn't feel the need to go exploring the West until around the same time Hetalia did. That is why Chiara isn't totally confused as to what is going on.

Whew, we meet Antonio. Don't worry, Spain x S. Italy shippers. Your time will come. Just not now. Chiara is seriously hating this guy. That won't really change majorly either. So patience young ones.

This story contains English, Spanish, Italian, and Nahuatl (which is going to be like "wah? me no know dis"). My Spanish is not good. REMEMBER if you see any major mistakes in spelling for SPANISH or any simpler alternatives that I don't know about for SPANISH, let me know politely please. For those needing a translation because you couldn't guess what was being said, refer to the key below.

(1) Alright, we are done here.

(2) Ha! Never in this life.

(3) Come, come. Hurry up.

(4) Holy fuck.

(5) Is something wrong?

(6) Who are you? I do not know you.

(7) I am but a servant, master.

(8) You do not work for me. Who are you!?

(9) You are a stowaway.

(10) Tell me who you are or be killed by my hand.

(11) We have left the port, Mister Spain.

(12) No! Let me go! Release me, bastard!

(13) He is Italian. He is a stowaway! Throw him in chains!

(14) Let him rot!

Hope you'll stick around. We'll be getting to Cuba at the end of the next chapter.