A/N: Sorry for the late, but finally chapter 3 is done! XD I wrote this from scratch since I thought that the story needed a little bit more insight regarding Arthur, Antonio, and even Lovino. I would like to thank everyone who left me reviews; they really inspire me to keep writing, and to help me improve. -sniff-

The next morning, Arthur woke to the feel of a rocking boat and the sound of a creaking ship. This was nothing out of the ordinary for the pirate captain; however, the creaking of ship was different. It was louder, but more drawn out unlike the quiet, short creaking he was used to. He quickly opened his eyes and all of a sudden, he remembered exactly where he was.

Arthur grumbled and turned to the side, feeling the soft hay against his skin. Despite spending the entire night in the cold cell, his sleep had been deep and dreamless. It was only when he looked down that he realized that he Spanish captain's coat was still draped over his body.

'Tsk. It's almost like sleeping with the enemy.'

He narrowed his eyes and quickly tossed the coat to the side, before resuming his position curled up on the hay. He couldn't seem to resolve why he'd accepted the coat in the first place. It wasn't like he was a stranger to the bitter cold. All of the previous night's events came flooding into his consciousness, and he slowly sifted through them, starting with Captain Carriedo's offer to join the Spanish crew.

'As if. Does he think I'm so desperate that I'd join his band of merry men at the drop of a hat? I may have been a ruffian when he caught me, but that doesn't mean I have no honor left. He destroyed everything I had. I… I can't forgive him for that.'

He closed his eyes and felt an ache in his chest once again, seizing him like a hand had grasped his heart. It wasn't the first time he'd lost everything, so he thought he might as well be used to it by now. But it was inevitable. Remembering the previous night's battle—how hard he'd fought, and how quickly and easily he and his crew was overpowered made him feel sick. He used to be among the best of the British military. He worked hard every day and night, doing everything by the book. He was supposed to be prepared for the worst. Unbeatable. Unpredictable. But with his swordfight against Captain Carriedo alone made him doubt all of the things he once had given himself credit for. And his men—though he'd never gotten close and personal with any of them, and he hadn't treated them as well as he knew he should have, it still hurt to think that he let them down. For all he knew, they were now all 20,000 leagues under the ship he so comfortably spent the night in.

He groaned and sat up, shielding his eyes with his hand. Sunlight poured through a window on the side of the boat and he felt like a caged bird. He walked to the bars and grabbed one, his fingers fully wrapped around the metal.

'Cold.'

A chill ran up his arm and he stood there unmoving, looking out onto the horizon. He was surprised that no one had gone to his cell yet to rough him up like he and his crew used to do with his own prisoners. Then again, he rarely took prisoners. No one escaped from the dreaded Pirate Captain Kirkland alive.

Which brought him once again to thinking, why on earth he was still alive. There were so many times the Spanish captain could have killed him: on deck during their battle, while he was knocked unconscious, and during his visit to the cell the previous night. Although he guessed it made sense, since the captain needed him for something. He was probably going to be killed after he refused the captain's offer, but nevertheless, he had made up his mind. There was no way he was joining the other side, for so many reasons he couldn't even number.

What he found really odd though was that he was untouched. Unhurt, aside from the injuries he had sustained from their duel. If anything, he was being treated with hospitality; something he found completely absurd.

The Brit lowered his gaze and the image of the Spaniard flashed in his mind. He remembered how Carriedo had waltzed past the bars, talked to him about his arrangement, even OFFERED him wine for crying out loud, and—

"And…" Arthur murmured softly as he put his hand onto his lips, feeling the chapped skin against his fingertips. Heat quickly filled his cheeks; his eyes wide open from the recollection.

"No!"

The Brit drew his fist back and hit the wall in front of him as hard as he could, his fist making a loud impact on the hard surface. A wave of shame flooded his entire body upon realizing that he still remembered how the other's lips felt against his. He could still somehow taste the wine and feel the warm liquid flowing from the other's mouth into his own. Granted he was thirsty, but that was no excuse.

'He's probably laughing at me now. That was meant as an insult, and—the fool I am—instead of pushing him away the very instant I'd felt it, I stood there and did absolutely nothing!'

How he allowed such a thing to happen was beyond him, and anger quickly consumed every fiber of his body.

He felt pathetic more than ever.

"Tch, and that rubbish about making me fall in love. Who does he think I am?"

With his teeth clenched, he drew his fist back once again and began pelting the wood with hard punches, alternating each side. He channeled all his subdued emotions into each blow, the rush numbing him from the pain.

"BLOODY—!"

"FUCKING—!"

"HELL!"

"ADDING—!"

"INSULT—!"

"TO INJURY!"

His lungs burned with exhaustion and the skin of his knuckles was raw from the repeated impact. He couldn't find it in him to stop, as he forced all the shame out of his being into his attack.

"Not so strong now—"

"ARE YOU—"

"CARRIEDO?!"

With one last blow, he rested his head against the wood, his entire body trembling. Despite the pain in his hands and all over his arms, he felt better. He slowly turned around with his back against the wall, when his eyes met another pair from the other side of the railings,

Someone had been watching his embarrassing display.

SPLAT!

His already-stained shirt was once again hit with the same flying projectile; the red juice spilling all the way down to his trousers.

'This is going to be a long day.'

~x~o~x~o~x~o~

Antonio lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he woke up the next day. He hadn't gotten a very good night's sleep, and on top of that he had a bit of a hangover from all the wine he consumed. He put the pillow over his head, trying to fall back into his slumber. It was still early-as if it seemed everything was quiet on deck, and the rays of light that penetrated his windowsill were the ones of daybreak. The events from the previous night were fresh from his mind, and above all, he couldn't get the thought of those green eyes out of his mind.

"Ah dios!" The captain sat up on his bed with a start, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair with his hands. He didn't want to admit it but somehow, he was anxious over the other's acceptance to his offer. If he did, Antonio was sure that he was going to not only be an addition to his manpower, but an added strategist as well. With two heads working as one, he was pretty sure things would be easier. However, he wasn't banking on it entirely. After all, joining him would mean a betrayal to Arthur's own country.

Antonio stepped out of the captain's cabin, wearing nothing but the clothes he slept in. He rubbed his arms, warming them and looked to the horizon by himself. The sea was calm, and the air was filled with nothing but the sound of the waves softly hitting the sides of his ship.

He knew that once he started the attack on England, moments like those were going to be scarce. So he took the liberty to enjoy it while he could, watching the sun slowly stain the surface a beautiful orange hue.

~x~o~x~o~x~o~

"It's you again!" Arthur's voice was filled with venom as he quickly launched himself to the bars, trying to grab the Italian who was bent over in laughter. All the anger he had let go quickly came back, and he wanted nothing but to grab the little boy and teach him a lesson. But alas, the other had learned and stayed a good meter away from the cell, clearly out of reach from the Brit.

"What were you doing, eyebrow bastard, huh? Was the wall fighting with you? Pffft—!" The cabin boy continued to laugh, slapping his knee and wheezing as he looked up at the caged captain through teary eyes. "I knew you were an idiota but no one can be as stupid as to fight something that can't even fight back. Or was that the only way you could win?"

"S-shut up!" Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs, his green eyes smoldering with rage. "Don't you have better things to do than to mingle with prisoners this early in the morning, boy?"

"I do, but captain's orders. I was asked to bring you breakfast. Don't you British have breakfast? No wonder you're fucking skinny to be a captain."

"Tch. You're one to talk."

"Or maybe your food is so shitty that you choose not to eat breakfast. I heard that British food is so bad you could get poiso—"

Arthur groaned. "If you're quite done now, why don't you just do what you were supposed to do and ever so kindly LEAVE?"

"Or what? You'll beat me up like you beat up that wall over there?" The Italian blinked and looked down at the red mush on the wooden floor. "By the way, that tomato was part of your breakfast."

"I give up."

Arthur threw his hands in the air and turned around, going back to the corner of his cell. He plopped back down onto they hay, muttering to himself. "Humiliated by the captain, insulted by the cabin boy… tch. Can a life of any pirate get any worse?"

He turned to his side and glared at the Italian who was slipping the rest of his "breakfast" through the bars. He guessed he was in no position to complain though, for the mere fact that he was actually being given something to eat and drink was nothing short of a blessing. After all, nearly a day without taking anything in (save for the wine the previous night, which he tried to erase from his every inch of his memory) he was famished, and the thought of something to fill his stomach was enough to make him feel even a little bit better.

"Hey, what's that?" The Italian's gaze shifted to a pile of red cloth beside the Brit's hay bunk, immediately recognizing it. "Isn't that the tomato bastard's coat?"

Arthur looked down and saw the crumpled coat he tossed aside, and sat back up.

"Oh, right."

He picked it up and got to his feet, slowly making his way to the bars. "Would you give this back to your captain? I have no need for it." He extended his arm through the bars, handing the coat to the Italian. He nearly asked the other to give his thanks, but quickly reconsidered it. Why on earth should he give the captain who captured him any of his thanks?

The Italian got the coat and looked at it, glaring at Arthur suspiciously. "How the fuck did this end up in your cell? Did you take this from him when he was dead-ass drunk? Or, don't tell me. Did the idiot actually walk into your cell last night?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, he did. Now, just return it to him before he starts looking for it. I'm not sure he even meant to leave it with me, or like you said, he was just "dead-ass drunk." "

"Che idiota! Quel bastardo di pomodoro, cazzo! (That idiot! Stupid fucking tomato bastard!)" The Italian grabbed the coat and dusted it as if spending the night in the cell had soiled it completely. He frowned and hung the coat in his arm, sighing in exasperation. "Sometimes I wonder why that idiot is still alive."

"That makes two of us."

"Why don't you go and worry about your OWN life, ugly-thick-eyebrow-bastard?!" The cabin boy snapped angrily, pushing himself closer against the bars. "I did some snooping last night and I found out the truth about your duel with the captain. If he wasn't such a big tomato-headed idiot you would've been dead by now."

"The truth? Ha! I've known that the very fact I am still alive is a fluke, the moment I woke up in this godforsaken cell. Tell me something I didn't already know."

"No, what I mean is you should've been dead during that swordfight. Apparently, he ordered one of his men to knock you out when things were beginning to get ugly."

"So he didn't fight fairly! I knew it; that blow couldn't have been any random occurrence. We were fighting and all of a sudden—"

"Will you shut up and listen first, stupido?" The Italian cut him off, frowning hard. "He asked that man to do that to keep you from getting killed. He knew that if you'd gone on fighting that you wouldn't give up, and in turn he'd be forced to kill your sorry ass. And apparently—I don't know what-the-fuck he's thinking—but he has some real important use for you."

Arthur fell silent and thought hard about the fight. Everything happened so fast.

Thinking back to the duel however, the Spanish captain could have killed him during the first few moments. The other's movements were quick and powerful; and it was probably only his pride and desperation that was telling him that he stood a chance. After recalling the entire thing, he realized otherwise.

He should have been dead.

"People can say whatever they want about that tomato-headed bastard but one thing no one can deny is that he's very good with a sword. I haven't seen anyone come close to how good he is and I haven't even been on this ship for long." The Italian stroked the coat with his fingers, keeping his eyes down as if he were deep in thought. Arthur couldn't help but be curious about the relationship between the Italian and the Spanish captain. It almost seemed like he was an adopted younger brother of sorts. It was odd enough that he was an Italian aboard a Spanish ship, but the moment he saw the two together, he knew they were somehow close.

"Say boy—"

"Stop calling me boy!"

Arthur groaned and was tempted to call him "wench" instead, but thought otherwise. If he was going to get anything from the boy, he had to at least get on his good side. "Fine, then. I assume even pets like you have a name. Spit it out."

"I am not a pet for-your-fucking-information and the name is Lovino Vargas. But that's Mister Lovino Vargas to you."

"Well alright, fair enough. Mister Lovino Vargas, I couldn't help but notice you weren't exactly… Spanish. You are Italian, am I correct?"

"Si. I'm glad you noticed."

"Heh. I was just wondering what you were doing aboard this Spanish ship. I haven't seen any other Italians around, and you seem awfully young to be joining something as potentially violent as an attack to a foreign country. Something you shouldn't even be involved in."

Lovino looked up at Arthur sheepishly, fidgeting with his hands.

"So?"

"I… owe my life to the tomato bastard." He shrugged. That's why I'm here."

"Owe your life? Were you some damsel-in-distress and he went around saving you from a band of bloody pirates or thieves?" Arthur scoffed at the idea. Then again, keeping the two in mind, it wasn't much of a stretch.

"Damsel-in-distress-my-ass; it wasn't like that! I… I used to be a thief. One time this stinking boat docked in Italia and I climbed aboard, hoping to find something to bring home. But the stupid Spaniards built this boat to be so big and fucking complicated that I got lost, and it left Italia before I could ever get out. And then one day, the captain found me hiding in one of the storeroom barrels—hungry almost half to death. When I saw him, I thought I was done for."

Arthur listened to the boy's story intently, as the memory of the first time he encountered thieves in his own pirate ship came to mind. He still remembered how he found two men in his own storeroom; how they begged for their lives, telling him they were starving and needed food to bring home to their families. And most of all, he remembered how he quickly drew his sword, slitting their throats clean in half. The image of the blood spurting from their necks was still fresh in his mind, as it was the same fate all the other thieves that followed were subjected to.

"… but instead, the idiot brought me on deck and fed me and asked me if I wanted to join him as a cabin boy or something like that. That man is fucking crazy!"

Arthur was silent for a while, trying to take in all of what the boy had said. He was almost happy that the boy didn't make the mistake of hopping aboard his ship, otherwise he obviously wouldn't be there to tell the story. As annoying as the boy was, it made him sick imagining him with a slit throat and a lifeless body—as he would have been, under his own hands.

"Crazy is a bit of an understatement if you ask me. What kind of captain takes in thieves with such mercy? There's a thin line between mercy and utter stupidity, and he sounds like he had crossed it a million times over. For him to take in someone as annoying as you, he must have the patience of a saint."

"Ehh. What can you do? No one can resist the Italian charm." Lovino chuckled. "But really, that's why sometimes I feel like I need to watch out for that stupid bastard. He's supposedly so high up in the ranks back in his country, but sometimes he doesn't act like it."

"I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one who thought that of him."

"As stupid as he is sometimes, he's not a bad guy. So… so don't even think about hurting him, capische? Or you'll be answering to me." Lovino raised his eyebrow, glaring at Arthur with a deadly seriousness. Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

"You're telling me that? How can I possibly hurt him when I'm caged like an animal over here? Don't get me wrong; I would if I could. But I can't, in this compromised situation that I am in."

"I heard he was asking you to join him. Or us. Whatever. Chigi! I don't trust you and I never will, so I'm hoping that bastard opens his eyes and reconsiders."

"Don't worry, he doesn't need to. I have no plans on joining you and your merry crew. I'm done."

The former captain smiled sadly, bending over to take a peek at his "breakfast." All that talk was making him hungry, and he might as well eat something—even if it were to be his last meal. Though it hurt him to actually admit it, he was glad to be able to eat something that wasn't English food. If the annoying Italian was right about one thing, it was probably that.

"So tell me, is there anything else I need to know about that captain of yours? He seems like quite the character…" He added, as he looked through the basket that was given to him. In it was a jug of milk and a half-eaten meat pie. It didn't take a genius to imagine why that was. The cabin boy must've eaten it on the way down.

"I know a lot of things about the tomato bastard, but why should I tell you?" Lovino answered grumpily. "One thing that I find hard to believe though is that according to the other men on his ship, he's a heart-breaker on land. Making women cry and shit."

"Well thank you for that bit of information; I'll make sure to keep that in mind the next time I grow breasts and lose whatever manhood I have left." Arthur rolled his eyes and took a bite off his pie. He didn't think it was that surprising, though. The man knew what he was doing last night, that was for sure. But he had no plans of telling Lovino that, as he forced the memory from his mind once again. "Don't you have anything that's actually useful?"

"Well, I heard he was the son of the last right-hand man of the Duke of Medina Sedonia… or whatever that bastard's name is. His father died, and he ended up taking the responsibility. But…" Lovino looked around and leaned in even closer, lowering his voice. "I've heard some people say he wasn't always like the way he is now, either. Apparently, he's done some shit and Spain took great lengths to try and cover it up. Ehh, I don't really know. Rumors are rumors."

Arthur wouldn't admit it, but having Lovino to talk to wasn't actually as bad as he would've thought. He didn't realize how much he had missed casual talking. After all, in that one conversation alone he knew a lot more about the mysterious captain at the very least. A dark past? It wasn't like everyone didn't have one. But he knew he wasn't going to stick around to find out. His mind was still made up. He wasn't joining them, or at least, not over his dead body.

When the Italian talked about how Captain Carriedo was like though, he was almost convinced that maybe, it wouldn't be such a bad idea. But the fact that he was merciful, made him all the more dangerous in England's eyes. It was kindness and compassion that got to him the last time, and wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

Then again he had learned, and it wasn't such a big concern. Who was he kidding? The truth was, joining wouldn't have been that big of a problem— had his love not been part of the British army.

A/N: And, that's it! It's a little bit dialogue-heavy but I hope you guys enjoyed it :3 Things will pick up in the next chapter, so stay tuned. Reviews are highly appreciated (or you can send me messages and tell me what you think) so that I know what I need to improve, or if you guys are liking it so far. I don't know why, but I enjoy writing the exchanges between England and Romano. They're like little kids. XD