Hey there everyone :) I'm back with another story and I'm really excited about it! I haven't written about our good friend Iggy in a while, so I'm looking forward to having him as the main love interest. So, let's sit back and see where this voyage takes us ;)

I don't own Hetalia or it's characters :/

The coastal town of Wend receives visitors and travelers quite often because of its location on the mouth of the River Kalip, which empties into the Sea of Gamn. It is also tormented by tropical storms quite frequently for the same reason. Both are currently plaguing the trading town, although visitors are not considered a nuisance by the indigenous people. They thrive on the wealth brought to their town by its convenient location, and do not hesitate to raise their prices to make profits larger.

The night's storm is particularly brutal, and many have taken shelter in the local tavern, both foreigner and native alike. Countless candles have been lit to illuminate the dingy pub, who's patrons are as gloomy as the building they occupy. The air carries with it a dampness that comes from the storm, which rages like a Leviathan. None of the men inside the tavern had ever seen the beast save for one.

He sits at a small, secluded table keeping very much to himself. A stump of a candle drips wax onto the scarred surface of the table. The man's face is weathered, scarred, and much resembles the table he sits beside. A dirty tankard waits patiently for the man to drain its contents as the storm continues to wail unhindered.

"Y'ah, that's 'im alright." A trio of men approach the lone man with an air of confidence and curiosity. "'E's the pirate."

One of the men steps forward. "You there, pirate. Look at us."

The man slowly turns to meet them with tired eyes. He looks to be middle aged, yet in the depth of his eyes is reflected a faint, but potent, glimmer of undying youth. The trio do not fail to recognize this latent quality, and although they do not fully comprehend its significance, they recognize its ethereal nature. Time seems to flow past this man without leaving its crippling and indelible mark.

"Say somethin', pirate."

"What makes ya soft bellied landlubbers think me a pirate, eh?"

"See? He talks like one!" One of the men looks on with wide, robin's egg eyes. "He's a real pirate!"

"But 'e can't be a real pirate. There ain't been a pirate 'round these parts fo'...a 'undred yea's!"

"So is he a pirate or not?"

"Why don' ya ask th' pirate if 'e's a pirate, eh?" the man growls.

The trio go silent. "W-well, are you?"

"Ah reckon ahm as much of a pirate as ah look," he answers.

Excitement flies like iridescent sparks as the trio murmurs among themselves. The wide eyed man, which is by far the youngest of the three, steps forward nervously. "Um...we were hoping you could...tell us a story."

A hearty and boisterous rumble fills the tavern. The pirate wipes a tear from his scruffy and smiling cheek. "A story, eh? Well, at least ya go yer pale 'eads screwed on right. Anyone wit' 'alf a brain knows pirates 'ave the best stories t' tell. Can't keep their yaps shut fer a swig o' rum though." He chuckles again. "Take a seat, boys! I 'ave just the story for ya. It'll make yer mangy, landlubbin' 'eads spin like a drunken gull on a windy day. 'Appened a good long time ago if me noggin' be correct. It started when our Cap'n got all tangled up wit' a mermaid like a wig'ly fish in a net."

"Some'ne git the Cap'n!" a big, burly man roared to the rest of the crew. He was the first mate aboard the Queen Lady, and no one dared contradict him.

The rest of the crew that didn't go to fetch the Captain stood around and gaped in amazement. The pirate ship had been engaging in some illegal fish netting when the nets had suddenly grown heavy. Once aboard, it was obvious what had caused the sudden change. A single, large blue green fin poked out of the writhing mass of mackerel.

"What seems to be the problem, boys?" Captain Arthur Kirkland walked down the path made for him by his crew. His heavy boots thudded against the damp wood of the deck, and various pieces of jewelry jingled together as he made his way to the nets. He looked the role of a pirate captain from his wide, plumed hat to his scuffed black boots.

"There's somthin' in the nets, Cap'n," answered a mousey little man many the crew called Squeaker. He had a red and white striped bandana tied around his head as if trying to prevent the wind from blowing away the rest of his sparse hair.

The Captain sighed and closed his eyes. "Isn't that the point of having a net, or are you flea bitten idiots too stupid to realize that?"

"No, Cap'n! It's somethin' that ain't supposed t' be in the net!" Squeaker exclaimed.

"Christov, did we catch more driftwood again?" the Captain asked his first mate. "How many times do I have to tell you to just throw it overboard?"

"It's not driftwood, Cap'n," the burly man replied. "That's why ye were called up 'ere. We ain't never seen nothin' like this b'fore."

This intrigued the Captain, who looked to confirm the story in the eyes of the rest of the crew. "Let me see it."

Queen Lady's crew parted the rest of the way for their Captain. He walked past them to the pile of fish, which was slowly starting to grow still. It was extremely obvious that something was not as it should be.

"What is that, Christov?"

"We ain't got the foggiest bit of a clue. That's why we went an' got ya, Cap'n. We was hoping ye could tell us." The first mate shifted on his feet nervously. He didn't like the idea of not knowing something.

"Well, first things first, we need to get this pile of fish off...whatever it is," the Captain murmured. "James!"

"Yes, sah?" A middle aged man stepped toward and quickly saluted.

"Get some of the men to help you put the fish in storage. It has to stay fresh until we get to Wend or no one in their right minds will buy the lot of it."

"A'right, Cap'n!" The man began to shout orders to the men watching the scene take place.

"Would ya like t' go back t' yer quarters, Cap'n," Christov asked. "We can have someone git ya when it's all done."

"No, I think I'd prefer to stay, if that's alright with you, Christov."

"Cert'nly, Cap'n."

"Uncle Arthur!" A young boy of no more than twelve came running across the deck toward the pirate Captain. "Uncle Arthur! Sqeaker said something brilliant was happening! Can I stay and watch? Please can I?"

Captain Kirkland looked down fondly at his nephew. The poor lad lost his parents at a young age and had been taken in by the pirate Captain. Everyone on the crew became quite fond of the boy not long after his arrival, and Arthur had a tough time keeping him out of whatever trouble the rowdy crew was always getting into.

"I don't know, Peter. I'd hate for anything to happen," the Captain said thoughtfully.

"Please? I never get to do anything fun around here! You have to let me watch!"

"Alright," Captain Kirkland agreed with a sigh. "Just don't touch anything, and try not to get in the way."

With an excited shout, the boy ran off to join in the commotion. Men walked this way and that while hauling fish below deck. There was still quite a ways to go before the mysterious object could be uncovered.

"Do you think I spoil him?" Arthur asked his first mate.

"Without a doubt, Cap'n," he answered. "The whole crew does. That boy 'as 'em all wrapped 'round 'is lit'le fin'er better then the ropes 'round the bloody mast."

"God help us when he starts asking us to fight." The Captain shuddered. "He'd be running off with every knife, cutlass, and revolver aboard the whole ship!"

"It's goin' t' take more then God to stop that boy."

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of."

The Captain and the first mate continued to watch the crew hustle and bustle about. Most of the men were the usual pirate type; big, dirty, foul mouthed, and armed to the teeth. They grumbled and grunted as they carried the mackerel away. The few that stood apart from the motley crew were James and Squeaker. They worked as hard as the others, but there was something about them that made the others doubt whether they could really kill a man if needed to.

"Cap'n! Cap'n! Come quick! It's a gurl!"

"What in bloody blazes...?" Captain Kirkland stepped forward to see for himself what all the commotion was about.

He pushed his way through his crew, who were too stunned to move out of his way like they were expected to. The men were gaping at something, or someone, lying on the deck with a few remaining fish flopping pathetically around her. She looked normal in every way, except for the shining tail that was where her feet should have been.

"What in the name of all that's wet an' slip'ry is that?" Christov questioned amazed.

"Is she a fish or a gurl?" Squeaker asked no one in particular.

A wide grin spread across Arthur's face. "Looks like we caught ourselves a mermaid, boys."