Thank you lovely reviewers! I adore you! Dedicated to the person that wanted this. PirateEnglandxMermaid America
Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas.
I own nothing. Rated M. Thank you for reviewing.
Please note, this is only a STORY, and should not be intended to cause offense in anyway. Time is roughly the 1100-1200's.
OoOoOo
Halloween was a time for fun and frolic.
It was not actually meant to be the time when America got herself hurtled back into time, wearing nothing but a mermaid costume.
She granted, it was a little ironic, but not very funny at all, because the ocean breeze alone was freezing her to the bone. The blonde nation stood, scantily clad, on a pristine beach while her teeth chattered mercilessly.
America briefly pondered if she was going to need a dentist as much as they rattled on her now. She didn't care if the make-up she'd spent fucking hours on was getting ruined. No, not at all. Did no one know how hard it was to do a tutorial off of Pintrest and Youtube!
She'd had to buy insane colors and brushes to pull of the scale pattern she'd painted on her body! America had been forced to wear a fish-net stocking on her head to pull off this pattern!
Oh. Oh, when she got back, she was going to get that Nordic jackass.
"Stupid Norway," she harped with irritation, "can't take a freaking joke!"
Her blue eyes narrowed, and she hated that she hadn't thought to bring Texas along to the party. She'd worn contacts intense with the large star in the middle. It did not affect her vision much, akin to other Halloween themed contacts.
Oh sure, Norway had threatened her dozens of times for calling him 'Old'. However, she'd never believed he would actually do anything.
Well, she believed him now.
The emotionless Jackass. She'd thought that they had a similar repertoire to that of him and Denmark. Apparently she was wrong. Well! Didn't that just beat all, now that he'd left her in something that vaguely resembled the 'Little Mermaid'. Except the skirt was blue, however, the fins were a nice touch. And, truthfully, her top was white. Okay, the 'top' was really little more than a bathing suit top with tiny sea shells sewn on, but still. It looked nice.
She'd even put a sea-star in her hair! Granted, she'd chosen one the closest to red as possible. Hey, she had her national colors, and she was working with it. Damn it.
Denmark had told her she looked good.
America supposed that turning to Norway and asking him what it was like to 'witness' the evolution of fish into people had been in error.
She knew something was wrong. The Star-Spangled nation could sense it the moment the Norway muttered something at her, and touched her shoulder. It felt as if she were being pulled too far away from her people.
Yet, when she had landed here, with sand clinging to every available inch of her along the frigid shore, she'd only felt a small handful of people within her boundaries. Everything was out of place.
Incorrect.
However, the spunky nation did not let it frighten her. Knowing Norway, he'd pull her back soon enough, when Prussia and Denmark annoyed him too much for him to leave America in the past.
She'd get the last laugh. For now, it was a point to Norway. Most definitely.
OoOoOo
America built a small fire, with bits of dried leaves and whittled kindling, as a starter on top of some driftwood that looked dry enough.
Granted, that hadn't lasted long, so the poorly dressed for the weather nation, had huddled in on herself inside the darkness of a cave.
This... sucked.
Oh, she could have done more. America could have gone all Green Beret on this, but she worried over altering the time line. Since the top minds in her time were still figuring out if time was linear or circular, or something in between.
So, she was stuck, nearly freezing and starving because she was terrified if she so much as squished a butterfly, that she was going to end up a dude and be best friends with someone she hated.
Or you know, she'd end up married to Norway, and she was supposed to punch him as soon as she got back. So, really, it was a conflict of interest. America like to keep things uncomplicated.
She hadn't slept a wink, so when the first outline of something dark upon the water appeared in the distance, she prayed it wasn't a storm. She could not handle that right now.
Granted, she'd live, but she was going to be so freaking pissed off.
It took close to an hour, with her rubbing at her dry contacts more than once,
It was a Spanish ship. Her eyes widened marginally, as she noted the old Flag. Tattered and frayed by the elements, but still blazing proudly against the morning sky.
What she witnessed next, however, as the outline of the dark ship against the oranges and purples of the dawn, was something being dropped into the clouded waters.
'No,' America thought in denial as the barest hints of raucous laughter floated toward the shore. That 'something' had been vaguely human shaped.
It couldn't be. Spain wouldn't...
Then again, America had no idea where or when she was. She had heard tales, as she sat warm by a fire listening to England's smooth and rich voice, of times before her own. The ones of pirates and daring adventures.
Of gold and treasure.
Stories she had eagerly listened to and beg for more of. England usually obliged, until at her tender age as his ward, she had drifted off to the sound of his voice. However, America had never known Spain during his more rebellious days. Nor had she ever known anyone, until she had fully formed.
Bits and parts of her recalled Spain. The parts of her that were directly tied with his colonization.
However, above the disbelief that someone had been dropped into the ocean, was the overwhelming need to get to that person. As if... as if... America's life depended on it too. Something was calling to her desperately. A nearly heartbroken plea for...
What? That she did not know.
Without thought, or hesitation, America rushed into the freezing water. The pull that tugged at her was far too strong. However, she would have gone to offer assistance anyway, but there was hint of panic to the way she stumbled forward into the sea. Her limbs protested the cold, and she yelped as what little warmth she possessed, was sucked away greedily by the waves.
She could see the billowing sails of the Spanish ship, sensing that somewhere, Spain was aboard. It was... strange. She felt more connected to them in the past, than she ever had in her future.
"Fuck," She hissed as she grit her teeth, surging onward, until it was deep enough for her to dive. Her progress was slow in the beginning, but quickly sped up. Soon she was lost in the icy water and darkness, but she pushed forward. It stung at her eyes to open them under the water, but America had little choice.
Her skirt made it harder to get to him, but she knew the general area where they should be. The pull to get to them intensified to the point of pain. America's lungs ached, needing some air, so she broke above the water for a moment. With little grace, she gulped at the air frantically, before diving back under.
Despite the murkiness of the water as it churned, she caught a glimpse of something gold. With a burst of excitement and hope, even as she could only hear her heartbeat under the water, America dove further down.
It was a... ring? Attached to a hand that floated without purpose. She kicked her legs harder, trying to get there quicker. As she drew closer, she noticed the dirty-blonde hair, and the feeling that he was like her.
A nation.
What the hell was going on?
As soon as she touched him, pulling at the heavy clothing, and noticing that he had been weighted down, America knew in an instant who he was.
England.
Green orbs stared at her, and she feared they were unseeing. He wasn't moving.
Blue eyes, covered by star contacts, widened in horror. No. Oh no. Though her strength was not as it had been in her present time, America tugged him upward off the ocean floor. The heavy metal around his ankles did not stop her from kicking with all her might, using one hand to hold him securely to her chest.
'Hold on England, dude. Hold on.' She though frantically as she swam them back to the safety of the shore.
OoOoOo
Darkness crowded in on him. A peaceful sense of finality washed over his exhausted form. His lungs no longer pleaded for the precious air above. What an unfortunate set of circumstances. To be caught after a prolonged battle, in a weakened state.
His end was coming for him. He knew that, and felt oddly accepting of the fate. There was nothing that he had left unfinished, except destroying Spain. However, he could face his maker with that knowledge. England had been a fine country.
He had been proud to be its personification. The living essence of it upon the earth. Now, his soul would be called to the underworld, where he would be judged by possibly even the Fae King or Gods themselves. Though, now, there was only One God for him. A great deal had changed in the last few centuries. It seemed like only yesterday he was proudly walking the land but 400 years into his existence.
What he was certain would be his final heartbeats, echoed lazily in his unhearing ears. But, just as the darkness fully descended upon him, his green eyes stared into the vast ocean, to see a creature swimming toward him.
He saw her golden hair, more beautiful than the ring he wore, crusted with a ruby the size of a bird's egg. A sea star was nestled upon her head. How it did not fall off, England did not know, but he could only watch the world fade to black, as bright blue stars stared at him.
OoOoOo
With a loud cough and quite a bit of sputtering, America dragged them upon the damp sand. She felt exhausted. Which should not have been possible, but she did not have the strength of 320 million plus citizens behind her.
"Fuck you're heavy," she gasped, as she pulled at England's shoulders with her dwindling might.
Immediately, she started CPR. Clearing his airway, and listening for a heartbeat, of which she did not hear nor feel. America started chest compressions after two puffs of air into his mouth. She pushed down hard enough to contract the diaphragm and hopefully coax his lungs into breathing and his heart to starting once more.
"Come on. Come on," she muttered as she repeated the process. 30 compressions. 2 Breaths. Keep going.
"Don't you even think about it. If you die on me..." she snarled, but it held no heat. What would she do? She wouldn't exist! She hoped this wasn't the result of her gathering some damned fire wood! But the worry and guilt gnawed at her.
Minutes ticked by, she thought, but America did not give up. Even as she became slightly dizzy with her efforts. Just as resignation was beginning to creep in, England sputtered, expelling saltwater from his mouth and nose as he coughed.
However, America rolled him to his side to help and so that he would not choke. With a cry of excitement she reassured him that he was safe. She brushed his much longer but darker blonde hair out of his face.
"Alright. It's alright. I'm here. Don't worry."
Blue eyes caught sight of the chains around his ankles and she shook with fury along with the cold. With a spark of her former energy, America pulled at them, managing to deform the metal enough to slip it off of England's ankles and feet.
She should have been able to break them entirely, but it was not possible in her current state.
With an irate puff at a sopping lock of hair that flew into her face, America began dragging the still unconscious England back toward the cave. She needed to get him out of these clothes and get a fire for him, but first...
She needed him to wake up.
America settled him as comfortably and delicately as she could. He wasn't bitching at her yet, that made her worried.
"England?" She said, nearly frantically, "Wake up. England!"
She shook him, which she knew was a stupid thing to do, the nation had just been revived after all. However, instinct had taken the place of rational knowledge.
"England," America cajoled sweetly, trying to coax him into waking as she had done when she was a colony. "Please wake up."
She took a breath. Inhaling quickly, waiting until it pained her, and letting it go. Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. Why wasn't he waking up?
America dashed at the tears that welled in her eyes. She swiped at them, disturbing the contacts, which caused her to let loose a small sob as the salt water stung against her irritated eyes. It was combined with her concern for England, that made it worse. She was physically bothered, but emotionally a wreck at the moment.
Spain had tried to kill England! What the hell?! No wonder England didn't get along with the guy.
Perhaps it was her gentle crying, or that his mind was simply rearing back to the land of consciousness, but the man began to stir.
OoOoOo
There was the sound of sorrow and the taste of the bitter sea salt upon his tongue. His lungs burned as if he had inhaled the fires of hell in one greedy gulp. His eyes flickered back and forth beneath his closed lids, until he opened his eyes to the blurry world before him.
He could hear the muffled notes of a woman weeping. But, that simply could not be. He had been captured by that Spanish devil, and thrown to the watery depths below. A victory and a taunt all the same. It was meant to be an insult upon his very grave, to cast him into what he had once controlled with an iron fist.
Yet, he was not being designed to Heaven nor the pits of Hell. His body throbbed in reminder to attest to his living state. His green gaze focused on the sound near him. Golden hair, and creamy skin. The parts that were not scaled, that was.
Scaled? What manner of creature was this?
The nation blinked, allowing the world to come back into focus once more, and felt his pulse quicken. A mermaid. A creature he had never seen prior to this event, was kneeling beside him. No, that was not quite accurate, she was half-bent over him. Weeping.
England noted in awe and shock, that the Mermaid's scales were melting off her body as she cried. He was watching them liquefy into pools color.
For him?
He watched in shock as she cried tears the color of the sea before a storm.
This... this creature had saved him... there was no other explanation. The strong arms that had pulled him up, had not been a figment of his drowning mind. She had been real. Out here, by the shores of his rebellious brother's home, a Mermaid had found him.
It was strange, because he only knew of the Selkie's that peppered the coast. Many sailors spoke of them, but she was a Danish creature. Danish... he recalled the tale but he could not think clearly. She was supposed to have a tail, was she not?
Though his vision was still blurred, he barely moved his head just to see her tail.
There, in prominent and proud display, he could see the blue fins. Her scales shone like small gems.
England had seen many things in his time, including driving those Danish bastards and the bastards of Germanic or French descent from his homeland. He had met with fairies and sprites, seen demons and cast them out. But he had never seen her like. Those mystical companions, to include the unicorns, had never come to his aid before.
Not like this.
He was the ruler of the Seas, the lord of the watery realm. England was feared far and wide. Yet, he was moved, though he was a vicious devil of the seas, by the look of heartbreak upon her face.
"I pray thee, fair creature, cease thy weeping."
Her plaintive sobs ceased instantly, and a look of statement coupled with joy burst over her lovely features. He could see her clearly now, and was startled by way her eyes were. She looked as if she had fallen from the night sky constellations, and not come from the depths of the ocean.
She was cold, like the animals of the sea. He could not feel the warmth of her, and he shuddered at it.
"England!" The creature said with such unadulterated sweetness, that he felt his aching heart constrict. None had ever called his name with such adoration.
His muddled mind pondered how she knew his name.
OoOoOo
"Mermaid?" England's voice rasped out in disbelief, his green eyes, so familiar but somehow much harder, widened. She gazed down at his attire once more.
She'd tease him about the Pirate thing later, right now she was just happy that he was alive.
What he said actually registered in her thoughts, and she paused. America tilted her head, her tangled golden locks fell in a sopping mass over her shoulder. She could feel the tug of something at the opposite side, and
"Oh," America gasped, realizing how she must look. "One moment."
England grunted, not bothering to move. She didn't blame him. America quickly exited the cave, and took out the contacts that were stinging at her eyes painfully. No wonder they said not to swim with those things on.
She took them out carefully, after taking a moment to wash the sand off her hands. They landed on the ground uselessly, but America scooped them up. She tucked them into her top. It would not do to leave this behind, where it did not belong.
The female nation shivered from the wet and the cold, as the sun climbed higher into the sky. It would help, but not enough, she worried. England and she could both get sick, if she did not take care of this now.
With white and fumbling fingers from the chill, America reached to the clasp of her 'tail'.
She discarded her skirt, putting it up on some branches, to allow it to dry. As she bent down to grab some of the dry looking drift wood. They would need the fire again. The Star-Spangled nation still fretted over what this would do to the timeline, but England was near dead and soaked to the bone.
Drastic times called for equally drastic measures.
OoOoOo
England suppressed a groan as he waited for the creature to return. It was bizarre to watch her walk on her fins that way. It had looked painful. But, it was almost as if he could see the muscles in her tale, for the way they moved seemed similar to human legs.
How peculiar.
She was taking her time though, and he shivered uncontrollably, too tired to try and stop himself. His mind blazed with curiosity, and he pondered what the worth of the creature was. That thought was quickly discarded. He might be ruthless, but he was not without honor. The mermaid had saved him from an untimely death.
He would grant her a boon. Her life.
Still, he tried to recall the story the Danish whore-son had told him. Concerning the creatures. They could... they could become human. His memory supplied the Dane's tale with ease, after a few hard moments of concentration.
When they fell in love, the immortal mermaids could trade their immortality for the life of their chosen lover. Similar to the Selkie, only England would not be forced to take and hide her skin so that she could not return.
But, a burning desire was building in him to keep the female. She was lovely, unique, and rare. All things a pirate wanted. Craved.
His green eyes hardened momentarily as the darker side of his nature reared its head. Something about the creature called to him. She seemed... similar to him. As if they were Kith or Kin. But, she was no Kin of his.
The mermaid almost felt like a... a Kingdom. But, that was impossible. Unless the rumors of the lost cities of the waters were true. However, even so, she was an enigma to him. One he refused to let slip through his fingers.
He had little time to reflect further, as she returned.
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her obvious state of indecency. She was... nearly sky-clad beneath his suddenly heated green eyes.
"Don't worry, I will get the fire started, okay?" She beamed at him.
England could not truly understand her words. They were seemingly jumbled, incorrect and said strangely. Yet, she knew his language.
She also seemed to have no problem walking on her legs, and it amazed him. The mermaid... she looked... human. The stars were gone from her eyes, though the star fish remained in her tangled golden locks, water still dripped from them. Her scales were almost completely gone, only a mere trace of color remained of them.
With clarity, Denmark's words echoed through his ears.
Mermaids could trade immortality for humanity to be with their lovers.
This mermaid, was clearly in love with him. It was obvious by how she did not shy away from his roving eyes. She seemed comfortable around him, as she worked to light the fire. Her methods though, where foreign to him, as she used something that looked like a small and poorly constructed bow.
An ember flickered to life, and she smiled at him. Her straight and white teeth were very out of place for a mortal at her age. England felt his blood heat, and though he shivered still, he could not pull his eyes off of her.
She moved closer to the ground as she blew upon the ember, coaxing it into bright flame. She fed bits of wood to the fire, as it crackled merrily. The warmth barely managed to penetrate the icy grip of the ocean he still felt.
"Okay! One task down," the mermaid said brightly, if not loudly.
Perhaps she was so loud, because she was out of the water?
She moved to help him, gentle but strong hands pulled him upward. England was semi-drunk of the feeling of her. She seemed akin to him and it was driving him slightly out of his fogged mind. A precious treasure indeed.
With precise movements, she helped him untie the leather and woven wool that kept his clothing in place. Were he a blushing maiden, such as she, he would have flushed. Instead he allowed her to pull the wet clothing off of him, knowing he might catch ill were he to stay in them.
The mermaid looked away, not daring to glance at his manhood, as she helped him closer to the fire. Still, though it was for his benefit, he could not help that his body responded to the woman before him. Especially when her lovely breasts were only covered in... seashells.
He wondered why she did all this. Then again, how long had she followed him to save him from Spain's intended death?
Emerald met Azure as she finally looked at his eyes. He could see that they were the most beautiful blue he'd ever gazed into. Far more lovely than even jewels and gems. Her hand reached for his, squeezing it gently. A reassuring gesture.
"I'll take care you," she promised with sincerity.
His heart swelled in his chest, nearly painful in the bright burst of happiness that seemed to radiate from her. The mermaid was so deeply concerned for him.
It could mean only one thing.
"This was no passing happenstance, thee beest in love."
OoOoOo
"That is why thee risked thyself ," he said with full authority and confidence in his conclusion. A surprising amount of strength was present as he gripped her wrist.
America gaped at him, clearly aghast and lost at his proclamation. What the fuck was this shit? She did not mean to swear so much, but she forgot that England used to speak like Shakespeare, which was an enormous pain-
"Yea, verily..." she muttered, trying to follow along with what he was saying.
"I shall bethink myself, of this." He said quietly, as a strange gleam entered his green eyes. "Thee art captivating."
"You have my thanks..." America said, looking away and blinking over what the hell she was supposed to do next.
Okay, so she understood 'love', the 'thee' crap, and 'captivating'.
Was... Was England coming onto her?
She barely had time to process that as he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Cold met moderately Luke-warm in one silent taste.
America stilled.
"Come hither fair maiden, and tarry longer still." He whispered in a low voice that caused her to shiver for all new reasons. "Allow me the favor of tasting thy lips, I know not if I canst control..."
He trailed off, as his head dipped toward her once more. His lips sought to conquer now, instead of a gentle press of a chaste kiss. America complied, partially unsure of what to do. Kissing England, was... nice. Really strange... but nice.
A giant red-light was practically flashing across her thoughts. America swallowed heavily, her blue gaze was wide. She was stuck in the past with England. A version of England whom she did not know, and thought she was a mermaid.
A mermaid that was possibly... in love with England.
He pulled back, and America panted quietly for breath. She could feel the blush upon her cheeks as the fire worked to warm them both.
His hooded green eyes stared at her as if she were a mystery.
"Be thee mermaid? Or be thee Siren?" He questioned with a look of lust glowing in the emerald depths.
She be neither. She be screwed. So utterly, utterly, in trouble.