Damned By the Tide

Rating: T

Summary: Pirate!AU Lovino was only defending his twin brother from pirates on their island, he had never meant to get captured. He had never meant to become the play thing of the most renowned pirate in the seven seas. He had never meant to fall in love with him. But what did Fate care if he was going mad? Nothing, that's what. SpaMano

BrooklynBabbii

Recommended Listening: "Dream catcher" by Secret Garden

.:Prologue:.

Night Procession

by Itzik Manger

The night procession strides with silent steps
and takes the weeping into all the villages
Hard hands carry corn bread and wine
toward your golden starry shine
Morning star, morning star, eternal light
erase, extinguish the dark face of night.
Over our sky, over the earth
hangs the emperor's cannon and the emperors sword
black fingers ready to send death,
Tears are our water, blood is our bread
restless our sleep and the wind carries
in its brown hands the eyelids of a child
and gray women kneel before a bunch of lights
burning near a sick appearing icon
Morning star, morning star, eternal light
erase, extinguish the darkness on the face of night
The night procession walks and whispers.

The infamous Spanish demon of the Seven Seas stood at the mouth of a costal village. Destruction laid in his wake, and he grinned, in his smooth red coat. The inner gold lining gleamed in the moonlight, along with the beaded tassels shuffling with his every move on his shoulders. The black silk trimmings accented his loose white shirt. A golden sash adorned his waist, along with a dark leather belt. A white cravat, with a beautiful amber right at the collar, stood at his neck. He wore slim-fitting brown pants, and high black boots.

With a great flourish, Antonio flashed the village a view of his curly chocolate hair. The velvet texture gave off a slight shine, and as did the recently red-spotted white rose pinned to it. A pure white feather bobbed slightly, as the Spanish captain looked about.

Antonio hefted the battle axe from the blood soaked soil easily. His grin was stretched across his face. Emerald eyes smirking, as he said, "Anybody else dare to challenge me?" He turned to face all of the remaining bodies on the beach. No one who could oppose him was even breathing in his direction, most trying to retreat. So, he thought it was all was well, as he hefted the blade onto his shoulder.

He scoffed, balancing the enormous weapon on his shoulder easily. He threw a look over his shoulder to his crew behind him. "Burn their city to the ground and bring me every pretty little face you can find." A chorus of their verbal obedience in Spanish and Antonio watched, smugly, as he saw his crew dispatch to follow his orders.

He heard the screams of women, who hadn't been killed on the battlefield, pleading for their lives and struggling. He saw young children being led away to the…soon-to-be living graveyard as a large bonfire was started. For what did Antonio care for those little brats or their pathetic mothers?

There were just that—brats. He had a couple of his own scattered pretty much everywhere from his long years as a pirate. He couldn't say he didn't love pleasing women, but he couldn't say he didn't like taking them by force either. Either met his needs and one just happened to sate his bloodlust and thrill for killing at the same time.

Antonio smirked, turning on a heel and walking in the direction of his ship. He walked through the broken cobblestone and paved streets, past the broken windows and bloody fragments. He walked past the mutilated bodies of those who had tried to resist his invasion into the mainland.

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"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."

–Anatole France

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The Spaniard crossed over the sand dunes, his dark boots crunching softly on the ground. Tall, green wild grass swished at the leather belt at his waist. Blood was colored like ink in the night, but in the distance an orange light glowed over the horizon. It wasn't the sun.

The glow of that orange light made the red and gold depths of emerald eyes stand out, revealing themselves as the visible sights of his bloodlust and greed. The bloodlust and greed of a well-renowned pirate who knew how to obtain whatever it was he wanted.

He was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, world renowned and infamous Leader of the seas. He brought the passion of Spain, and the wrath of Hell, to all of the unfortunate to have crossed his sight on the high seas.

Such as the Italian village, he was currently enjoying burning down to the ground.

He was a pirate, after all. A smirk crossed his lips as he watched the distant flames. The way they danced was almost graceful. Never once faltering as it consumed the buildings and people in its path, for flames are unmerciful.

The fire claimed each and every thing as its own and burnt them, only to move on to the next thing and the next thing.

It didn't stop its lethal dance. Not for the screams and cries of the townsfolk. Not for the memories held inside each home. Not for the money that could have been made from the now destroyed shops. Not for anything, because that simply how fire was.

You could say Antonio was like fire. Unmerciful, unremorseful, deadly, and very, very good at they did. The difference between the two, though, was that, unlike fire, Antonio could not be put out.

Said Spanish pirate went over the dunes, speed increasing as the pleas for mercy and the bargaining of lives of others. He grinned, as his very fingertips itched at his side of his waist. A very lethal sword swung in its sheath, its dark leather casing glinting in the moonlight, and an equally dangerous if not greater danger in the form of a silver pistol.

Both had his name etched into their surfaces in an elaborate script that he liked to make his victims read...Right before he took their life.

And his emerald sight was set on the three forms trying to run off in the distance. He raised his arm, his pistol twirling among his fingertips. He took aim.

That would be one of the shots that rang throughout the world.

Antonio saw with a proud sense of sadistic satisfaction as an arc of red rose in the air, among the three figures. The figure fell, to the other two's complete shock. But the pirate wasn't done yet. There were still two more victims to carry on his name before he ceased their pathetic lives.

It would be later, as he was coming face to face with a dark brown haired young male, holding in his breath and pants, as the younger male's blood continued to paint the golden sand that Antonio began to think of how vulnerable the other male would look.

Antonio smirked. He would be vulnerable, meaning he would be weak. While, Antonio was strong, right now. The Spanish pirate could easily snap his neck, or better yet hear he could hear the smaller boy scream in whatever language he spoke for mercy. Antonio could butcher him, like he knew he wanted to…

Antonio came to the dunes, where his first victim lay. He looked down at him, smirking, as he could still see the shallow intervals of breathing. "Well, well, the little bastardo lived. Isn't that a surprise, I thought for sure, you would be dead." The unmerciful Spaniard slammed his fist down on the bullet wound.

Some squirts of glinting black flew upwards and clung to the bare skin of his hand, and Antonio knew it was blood when the moon's light reflected off of it and showed its red-tinted depths. Antonio smirked. Red was one of his favorite colors.

Lovino cried out, in pain, eyes opening and meeting daunting emerald orbs. The Spanish pirate grinned, and then looked down at his hand. His caramel hand was covered with glimmering red. He smirked, and brought a finger to his mouth to taste. Lovino could only watch in horror.

"You taste good, puto," Antonio grinned, tongue licking up the remainder of the blood. "I'm going to enjoy that flavor of yours." A grin formed on the tan face, and Lovino wished his heart would stop so he could finally die. He prayed to the saints that he could die. His prayer went unanswered, as Antonio took a handful of his hair.

"Whether you like it or not," Antonio grinned, and his tone of voice left no room for arguments.

Pain acted like a flower on its way to fully blossoming in the brilliant summer sun, the flower flourishing over his skin and nerves, and spreading quickly and with triumph. It sounds beautiful, doesn't it?

But it wasn't. Pain is never beautiful. What pain is beautiful? Lovino was in so much pain. It was an electric current sparking within his blood, and charging and overwhelming every single one of his nerves.

Amber eyes welled, but no tears fell from him, as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Antonio laughed at him. But the sound of it was a bit off, as his hearing was muddled, like listening for noises underwater. His vision swam and tunneled, as if indecisive as to what it wanted to do with him. His head hurt something awful, as if he had hit it on his way to the ground.

But he knew he was doing the right thing by remaining here. By taking every hit and slap and kick from the red bastard, he was gaining more time for his younger brother. His little brother, Feliciano, he had to live.

"Fratello! Fratello, get up," Lovino heard his younger brother cry out, as he tried to pull him back upright. "Lovino, you have to get up! We have to keep running, like you said, please, get up!"

Lovino felt himself suddenly tugged upright, but the sudden pain made his chest clench around his wound and he blinked. The next moment, he was back on the ground, admiring the sand. But his brother, Feliciano, was screaming as he tried to forcefully wipe the blood from his eyes. Lovino had coughed blood onto him...

"No, no!" Feliciano sobbed, as he fell to his knees. His and Lovino's shared grandfather tugged him back up, as Lovino looked up and waved weakly. A dark figure was approaching in the distance, and all three of the Italians knew he wasn't anything good.

"I'll...stall him, Feli..." Lovino managed, as more blood spilled from his mouth. Feliciano shut his eyes, not wanting to see any more of the blood, and just nodded. He let his grandfather finally tug him away, but he managed one last look back at Lovino.

But what Lovino didn't know, would soon hurt him severely. Because of his pain, he had missed the earlier shots from Antonio's gun. Just in time to miss the shot that rang out, but to see his dear and old grandfather stumble. The proud man stumbled, but he kept going, despite the wet warmth spreading on the chest. The old man had pushed Feliciano into the river, knowing the boy would know what to do.

But Lovino didn't see how Feliciano kept his eyes burn with tears, as he heard his grandfather land with a dead thump on the ground. Though he would have been proud to see how his little brother let himself sink in the water, knowing where to go to find the underwater cave. It was a cave where he could hide. The other villagers would be there...

...But not, Feliciano thought, grandpa and fratello. He broke the surface in the cave. His eyes, already moist with tears, met the other survivors, and all of them waited the next few seconds for another head. But, soon, they too found out that Feliciano was alone.

Their faces told of pain, they had lost their leader in Feliciano's grandfather, and best archer and battle strategist in Lovino. They welcomed the young Feliciano, little Feli would could only cook and tend to the wounded, and cried with him over his dear fratello or grandfather.

Well then.

This is interesting, to say the least, right?

This was one of my poll stories, it won, so here it is! :P

The chapters will probably be like Hell's Tango, but shorter. (Maybe 2-4k+ words, every chapter?) Anyways, it's at or over a certain word count and centering on a certain event or point of view. This chapter was just to introduce you to both sides of the story.

Alright. Good? If you like this story, please say so in a review. If your review is only 3 words long and it's only: "I hate Antonio" or "Lovino is so SOL" (Well, that last one was four, but whatever! You get the point!) I still don't give a fuck. REVIEW. Reviews help me breathe. :D

I love reviews. They make me smile. Favorites do, too, but not the same way.

Oh! And I check my email regularly, my little sadists and dreamers. If I don't see a review with your favorite or a PM in your name, I will be very upset. I will find you and I will spam you with Ukraine-worthy sobs!

That is a promise. D:

Now, enough of blabbering—

READ AND REVIEW.