[CHALLENGE] Our Sea - Freedom
Title: Our Sea
Prompt: Freedom
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Spain/England, sort of
Warnings: implied sex
Notes: This had become longer and more confusing than intended. I had an idea, but lost track of the prompt, so I just had to run with it. Ah well, practice? There's a lot of hinting in here, so you can just take it all as you will.
Antonio remembers the sound of chains dragging against rotted wooden floorboards. He remembers the cheering, the raucous laughter that forced him overboard. He remembers the metal digging deep into his wrists, marking his skin and burning him like some branded cattle.
The humiliation of it all doesn't escape him, but he tries to leave with his dignity.
(For God, for gold, for glory it had been)
Wherever it is now, he isn't sure. He finds himself being dragged downwards, his limbs bound by heavy water. His vision clouds with green and fleeting bubbles, small patches of sunlight the only connection to the sky above. He knows that he is trapped, and he keeps his eyes open but they are hazy, and he is tired.
He asks his god to let him live, but he closes his eyes, and pretends that it's not just a prayer.
But something strong wraps around his arm, warm and real. He doesn't see anything but a shadow behind his closed eyelids.
Antonio wakes on a soggy bed, his chest heavy and his lungs on fire. He sits up and breathes air through his nostrils, relishing the feel of being alive. He can hear his breaths, short and desperate and erratic.
There's a cough, and he turns his head to the source. Arthur stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, large hat shadowing his eyes. Antonio doesn't trust him, but the Englishman's clothes are neat and dry, his eyes hard and Antonio realizes that this is the enemy's ship.
"You-"
He sits up quickly, feet meeting solid ground. Antonio feels water droplets run down his back and his chest, his clothes sticking to him like a second skin. Arthur looks ready to roll his eyes as he gives the Spaniard a once-over with his gaze.
"I saved you. The least you can be is considerate," Arthur interrupts, his tone sharp. Antonio sighs, fearful to break eye contact.
His hands shake.
"You shouldn't have bothered. I'd rather drown than be indebted to you."
Arthur sneers. He grins, approaching, his boots heavy against the floor.
(Antonio remembers feeling light and free, the weight of a ton released from his person)
He pulls up a chair in front of the bed and sits down on it, placing his hands on his lap. Arthur stares into Antonio's eyes, his gaze hard but questioning. Antonio stares back, confused and disoriented, hands balled into fists.
They are silent.
Arthur gets up and opens a closet. Antonio watches him silently, barely reacting as the pirate throws a towel into his direction.
"I don't want you indebted to me." He says. Antonio wipes his face, his neck, dries as much of himself off without having to remove anything.
"You're keeping me prisoner, then?" Antonio asks, dreading the answer. He grips the towel in his hand. Arthur gives a coy smile, something half in between a snarl and a grin.
"Oh, I wouldn't want you for a prisoner either. Not a filthy Spaniard like you."
He gets up.
"But if I ever see you at the bottom of the ocean again, I won't save you a second time."
The door shuts firmly, and Antonio shakes.
(Not from the cold, not even from anger)
Four thousand years later, they meet on neutral soil, on boats that have come far from the sea. But the oceans are the same, and they always will be.
Arthur smiles at Antonio first, a first from his stiff upper lip. The ship rocks and sways, and the water glistens, green with life (and death).
"You know, back then I was giving you freedom."
Antonio laughs, bright and cheerful. They stare at the same sea. (They always have)
"Freedom from 'your' sea?"
Arthur narrows his eyes at him.
"I've always wondered why you never left me at the bottom of the ocean."
A bird cries overhead, and Arthur taps his fingers against the steel railings, playing a made-up tune. His lips twitch slightly.
"I've always wondered, too."
He traces the shape of Antonio's body in the dark, closing his eyes and imagining someone else, perhaps.
"We have both wanted something desperately that we knew we had to give up sooner or later."
"That's just sad."
Arthur opens his eyes and stares at Antonio hard in the darkness. His eyes are green and shining, bright like their one true sea. His lips part and they both shiver, perhaps from the cold.
"I didn't really want to hate you."
"Hm."
"But I did."
Antonio grins.
"And we were both never truly free."
"Stop speaking in riddles."
Arthur smiles, tracing a pattern on Antonio's chest.
"You wouldn't have died down there. You would have lay there, trapped under the ocean with your lungs shrunken and your body crushed. But you would have been alive, and-" Arthur stops speaking, his breath hitching suddenly.
They hold their breaths, and listen to the rocking of the ship.
"And why did you allow yourself to be captured?"
Antonio doesn't answer. He only hums, the tune foreign to Arthur's ears.
They forget. Four thousand years later, but not any less shackled.