Dream [003] ☼
“What is this, Spain?”
England looked at the crate in disgust and pulled out a bright red fruit.
Spain smiled, but it was slightly strained. Nobody liked to be a prisoner on their own ship, and Spain, despite his happy-go-lucky attitude, was no exception.
“That’s a tomato, Inglaterra,” Spain said, pulling slightly at the rope around his wrists.
“Stop that,” England said with a frown, motioning to one of his men, who rested his saber by Spain’s face. Spain tried not to notice as the sharp blade bit into his shirt.
“What is it for?” England asked, inspecting the tomato closely.
“For eating, Inglaterra,” Spain said wearily. He didn’t dare try his bonds again, not with that sword right there.
England stared at him. Then he laughed. “You know these are poisonous, right? You can’t be that stupid.”
Spain frowned, shifting away from the guard with the sword. “Tomatoes aren’t poisonous.”
England smirked. “Yes, they are. Everyone knows that.”
“Nothing here either, Captain,” one of England’s men said with a shrug. “Only more of those tomatoes.”
England scowled and stepped up to Spain. “Where is that gold you are so famous for taking, Spain?”
Spain smiled up at him brightly. “Not here.”
The blow was expected, but it still left Spain’s ears ringing, his vision darkening for a moment. When he looked up again, squinting in pain and from the sun, England was leaving.
For the first time, Spain looked worried.
“¡Oye! ¡Inglaterra!”
England glanced back.
“Untie me!”
England smirked, lifting his sword into a mocking salute. Then he stepped onto his own ship and was gone.
Spain sat there, tied to the mast, staring at the empty sea around him for a long moment. Then he sighed.
--
[And Spain looks less than happy, a serious expression replacing his normal smile, though he's not really looking at the Dreamberry, so it's a little difficult to see.]