(no subject)
Title: For Queen and Country
Author: romanitas
Characters: England, Spain.
Rating: T
Warnings: England beats up Spain because he can.
Summary: To be a privateer is not to be a pirate. To be a privateer is to steal in complete legality, and that is exactly what England was doing.
Notes: This was inspired through conversations with deviator when I was doing research for a class hurr. Thank you my dear! ♥
--
The click of his boots is not what Spain expected. Where was the clattering gold, the clinking of chains, the expensive leather? The shoes were old, worn, and a solid brown. Spain looked up, expecting a finely sewn coat, trimmed with gold, hanging down to flap in the wind. Instead: a white (or what used to be white) shirt, one sleeve torn, and brown, dirty pants, wrinkled from days at sea. There was no wide brimmed, feather hat adorning his head-just a wild mess of hair, a little frizzy from the humidity on the ocean.
The gun pressed to Spain’s temple, and England smirked. “I believe your ship has something we need.”
He swore at him in Spanish, and England smacked the side of his head. “I’ve picked up enough Spanish from your ships to know what that means.”
“Then I don’t need to repeat myself in English.”
“You’re hardly in a position to get smart with me,” England snapped, twisting the gun and pressing it harder into Spain’s head.
“Isn’t privateering the sign of a weaker nation?” Spain grunted.
England kicked him, and he fell over, face planting into the wooden boards of the deck. “It gets what I need done done,” he replied, grabbing Spain by the scruff of his collar and sitting him back up, returning the gun to his temple.
On the rest of the ship, Englishmen-English merchants-hurried about, transporting goods from the Spanish vessel to the English one. Tobacco, gold, arms, anything they could get their hands on, they stole. Some of the men, England himself included, took to guarding the Spanish crew. They’d taken the ship by surprise, their third successful raid this week.
“And here you thought your little embargo on English ships in your ports would be a hindrance,” England remarks as a merchant rushed by with a bag of sugar.
“And here you thought defeating my armada was such a victory,” Spain replied, “I don’t see you winning anymore great-” but he was cut off by another smack across the back of his head. “Will you stop doing that?”
“I’ll stop when you don’t give me a reason to keep at it.”
“We got all the sugar!” someone shouted, and Spain visibly winced. There went that profit.
“We’re missing some ammunition, I think,” another added. “Too many guns, not enough bullets.”
England turned to Spain, leaning over slightly. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“I know you’re not deaf. The ammunition,” England sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Spain turned his head. Like hell he’d help.
“Always difficult,” England remarked, pulling the Spaniard to his feet, gun still against his temple. “Lead me to it.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are we really going to play this game? We’re going to find it. You might as well save yourself some time.”
Spain remained silent.
England was about to rough him up more, but he heard shouts of “Here they are! Stashed away!”
“You lucked out,” he remarked, shoving him back to his knees again.
“If you call that being lucky,” Spain muttered. He could feel a bruise building on his temple; the gun was shoved so harshly against his skin, there was no way it would not leave a mark.
“None of your men are dead. I’d say that’s very lucky.”
England had a point, but it wasn’t like his men often died during this raids. Killing was not the priority-stealing was. Stealing in the name of the crown. And Spain hated that England seemed so good at it.
“When this war is over, you won’t be so free to steal as you want,” Spain grunted.
“If that ends up being the case, then I’ll be sure to do as much damage as I can now,” England replied, smirking.
He kicked Spain over again, and then once more shoved his foot into the other man’s gut, for good measure (they were in a war, after all), before hurrying away, making for a plank that connected the two ships.
England pulled a coin from his pocket, kissed it with a smirk, and shouted, “For England!” before tossing it onto the deck and jumping back to his own ship.
The planks were removed, as the Spaniards struggled from their bonds, but by the time they were freed, the English vessel was sailing away, and in their current state, it would be impossible to catch up.
Spain kicked over one of the few remaining (empty) barrels, letting out an irritated, vengeful, “Mierda!”
--
+ hurr durr privateers. They weren't really pirates. They were regular merchants. Who just happened to steal from Spaniards during the Anglo-Spanish War because Queen Elizabeth I was like "HEY GUYS I HAVE THIS AWESOME IDEA AND Y'ALL GET TO BEAT UP SPANISH VESSELS WITHOUT GETTING ARRESTED." And so they did. Because it was legal. Until the war was over (which was kind of a pointless war because it was pretty much a stalemate that ended favorably for Spain). BUT ANYWAY FUCK YEAH PRIVATEERS LET'S GO BEAT UP SPANIARDS FOR THE QUEEN. Some of them went pirate after the war but the point here is: England is a bamf.
Author: romanitas
Characters: England, Spain.
Rating: T
Warnings: England beats up Spain because he can.
Summary: To be a privateer is not to be a pirate. To be a privateer is to steal in complete legality, and that is exactly what England was doing.
Notes: This was inspired through conversations with deviator when I was doing research for a class hurr. Thank you my dear! ♥
--
The click of his boots is not what Spain expected. Where was the clattering gold, the clinking of chains, the expensive leather? The shoes were old, worn, and a solid brown. Spain looked up, expecting a finely sewn coat, trimmed with gold, hanging down to flap in the wind. Instead: a white (or what used to be white) shirt, one sleeve torn, and brown, dirty pants, wrinkled from days at sea. There was no wide brimmed, feather hat adorning his head-just a wild mess of hair, a little frizzy from the humidity on the ocean.
The gun pressed to Spain’s temple, and England smirked. “I believe your ship has something we need.”
He swore at him in Spanish, and England smacked the side of his head. “I’ve picked up enough Spanish from your ships to know what that means.”
“Then I don’t need to repeat myself in English.”
“You’re hardly in a position to get smart with me,” England snapped, twisting the gun and pressing it harder into Spain’s head.
“Isn’t privateering the sign of a weaker nation?” Spain grunted.
England kicked him, and he fell over, face planting into the wooden boards of the deck. “It gets what I need done done,” he replied, grabbing Spain by the scruff of his collar and sitting him back up, returning the gun to his temple.
On the rest of the ship, Englishmen-English merchants-hurried about, transporting goods from the Spanish vessel to the English one. Tobacco, gold, arms, anything they could get their hands on, they stole. Some of the men, England himself included, took to guarding the Spanish crew. They’d taken the ship by surprise, their third successful raid this week.
“And here you thought your little embargo on English ships in your ports would be a hindrance,” England remarks as a merchant rushed by with a bag of sugar.
“And here you thought defeating my armada was such a victory,” Spain replied, “I don’t see you winning anymore great-” but he was cut off by another smack across the back of his head. “Will you stop doing that?”
“I’ll stop when you don’t give me a reason to keep at it.”
“We got all the sugar!” someone shouted, and Spain visibly winced. There went that profit.
“We’re missing some ammunition, I think,” another added. “Too many guns, not enough bullets.”
England turned to Spain, leaning over slightly. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“I know you’re not deaf. The ammunition,” England sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Spain turned his head. Like hell he’d help.
“Always difficult,” England remarked, pulling the Spaniard to his feet, gun still against his temple. “Lead me to it.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are we really going to play this game? We’re going to find it. You might as well save yourself some time.”
Spain remained silent.
England was about to rough him up more, but he heard shouts of “Here they are! Stashed away!”
“You lucked out,” he remarked, shoving him back to his knees again.
“If you call that being lucky,” Spain muttered. He could feel a bruise building on his temple; the gun was shoved so harshly against his skin, there was no way it would not leave a mark.
“None of your men are dead. I’d say that’s very lucky.”
England had a point, but it wasn’t like his men often died during this raids. Killing was not the priority-stealing was. Stealing in the name of the crown. And Spain hated that England seemed so good at it.
“When this war is over, you won’t be so free to steal as you want,” Spain grunted.
“If that ends up being the case, then I’ll be sure to do as much damage as I can now,” England replied, smirking.
He kicked Spain over again, and then once more shoved his foot into the other man’s gut, for good measure (they were in a war, after all), before hurrying away, making for a plank that connected the two ships.
England pulled a coin from his pocket, kissed it with a smirk, and shouted, “For England!” before tossing it onto the deck and jumping back to his own ship.
The planks were removed, as the Spaniards struggled from their bonds, but by the time they were freed, the English vessel was sailing away, and in their current state, it would be impossible to catch up.
Spain kicked over one of the few remaining (empty) barrels, letting out an irritated, vengeful, “Mierda!”
--
+ hurr durr privateers. They weren't really pirates. They were regular merchants. Who just happened to steal from Spaniards during the Anglo-Spanish War because Queen Elizabeth I was like "HEY GUYS I HAVE THIS AWESOME IDEA AND Y'ALL GET TO BEAT UP SPANISH VESSELS WITHOUT GETTING ARRESTED." And so they did. Because it was legal. Until the war was over (which was kind of a pointless war because it was pretty much a stalemate that ended favorably for Spain). BUT ANYWAY FUCK YEAH PRIVATEERS LET'S GO BEAT UP SPANIARDS FOR THE QUEEN. Some of them went pirate after the war but the point here is: England is a bamf.