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highway-to-helltalia · 4 years

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Pirates and mermaids au

@hetaliamondaychallenge

Trigger warnings for drowning and violence, though neither are described in much detail

When Arthur awoke, he thought he was dead.

His hands brushed against slimy rocks and seaweed, the sloshing of water rung in his ears. The memories came back to him in flashes.

The calm ocean waves suddenly whipping into a storm.

The boat rocking as he clung to the rigging.

The lurch of his stomach as the boat tipped sideways.

Hitting the water as if it was concrete.

The blackness enclosing around him as he sank down in the shadow of the upturned boat.

Ironic, he thought, how he’d always delighted in ghost stories, and now he was destined to become one. Trapped at the bottom of his beloved ocean for eternity.

It was only when he opened his bleary eyes that he realised how wrong he was. Sunlight slipped in through the crusted crack between his eyelids. Lifting his heavy, aching arms, he rubbed his eyes and took a proper look around. He seemed to be in a cave, with light streaming in from the entrance, and the pattern of reflected water dancing on the rocks all around him. Exhausted from even the small movement, he dropped his hand to his side. It splashed into water which was almost level with his body, and he was gripped by momentary panic as he recalled the feeling of his whole body hitting the surface of the ocean.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was wading through the water towards him, the sunlight bouncing off pale hair. The person approached him, indigo eyes widening in surprise as they met Arthur’s.

“Who are you?” Arthur asked, his voice scratchy and dry. He tried to lift his head, but didn’t have the energy.

The other person didn’t answer, instead taking hold of his arm and inspecting it, perhaps checking for bruises.

“Did you rescue me?”

The man continued to silently inspect his arm.

“I thought I was dead,” he admitted, with a dry chuckle at his own expense. Still, he received no response. He bit his lip, dreaded words forming in the back of his throat, and it took all he had to get them out. “Was there anyone else? Did any of my crew… survive?”

The look he received from the other was enough to tell him the answer.

“Oh fuck…” he whispered, tears pressing against his eyelids, though his eyes were so dry none could fall. Sobs scratched his throat, making him cough. “Can I have a drink of water?”

A hand slipped behind his head, tilting it so he was almost upright. A large seashell was pressed against his lips, and fresh water poured from it into his dry mouth. It wasn’t salty like the seawater, it must have been collected from a spring. His throat ached for him to lap it up as quickly as possible, but the shell was tilted gently so that only a slow trickle of the cool liquid hydrated him. He pulled his head back to get some air and took as short breath, drying out his throat which called for water again. “More,” he whispered through his cracked lips. The shell was pushed towards him, and he gratefully drank from it. When it ran dry, the hand behind his head was removed, and his head fell back onto a cushion of seaweed. “Thank you,” he gasped.

A small hum was all that answered him.

Arthur turned his head to the side, finally taking a good look at his rescuer, and his breath caught in his throat. The man was gorgeous, with white-blond hair curling around his ears and a softness to his features that Arthur rarely saw in the harsh business of seafaring. Still water that covered the surface of the cave reached up to his waist, and drops glistened in his hair and on his bare chest as if he’d recently been submerged. He looked at Arthur with quizzical eyes, blinking slowly with his thick dark lashes.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a noise from outside.

The mysterious man seemed to hear it to, and his head snapped towards the entrance of the cave, eyes widening in panic. He waved a hand, motioning Arthur to stay put – as if he could have moved if he wanted to – and quickly glided through the water out of the cave.

There was something strange about his movements, they seemed too… fluid. But Arthur was too tired to focus on it, and felt his eyes closing as sleep overtook him.

The next time he woke up, it was to his shoulder being shaken. The man was beside him, holding an old bag which looked like it had been through the wars. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but before he could enquire further the man opened the bag, showing an assortment of berries and leaves. Arthur had never particularly been a fan of vegetables, but his stomach rumbled at the sight of them. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious for; he might not have eaten for days.

Finding he finally had the strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, and twisted around so his back rested against the wall. The man took a handful of food from the bag, and offered it to Arthur, who took it in his own hands and scoffed it down quickly. It had been a large handful, but he felt like he’d barely taken a bite. The man gingerly placed the bag beside Arthur, and he began to stuff his face so quickly he hardly tasted the bland excuse for a meal. He felt a little self-conscious to be seen eating so ungracefully. Of course, he’d had his fair share of messy tavern meals, but usually then he was half-bladdered and he wasn’t usually being watched by someone who looked so refined and, well, handsome. Arthur glanced up at the man, but he seemed more focused on making ripples in the water with his fingers than looking at the Englishman.

When he’d finished eating, Arthur cleared his throat lightly. The man looked up, his eyes landing on the empty bag, and he nodded, then turned to move out of the cave. Arthur had to admit, he felt a little disheartened that the other would just leave like that. Perhaps he had better things to do with his day than take care of pirates, but Arthur was still thirsty and the water in the cave smelled like seawater so that wouldn’t do much to quench his thirst. His heart lifted when the man paused and picked up something from a rock by the entrance – the shell. As he turned, Arthur thought he saw something glint underwater in the sunlight, and when the man approached him Arthur realised what had been so strange about his movements.

“You’re a merman,” he blurted. The way the man moved so swiftly through the water, as if there was something underneath – say perhaps a tail – pushing him along, was nothing like a human wading. It also explained his unearthly beauty; merfolk were known for seducing pirates with their looks and dragging them into the depths. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder why this one had done the opposite for him.

The merman stopped suddenly, apprehension in his eyes. He looked at Arthur for a long moment, seeming to assess him. A scaly tail, the same deep blue as the depths of the ocean itself, splashed out of the water beside him for a moment.

Arthur nodded with a triumphant smile, and the merman seemed to take this as an invitation to come closer, and pressed the shell into his hands with no more caution than before.

The merman came to see him every day following that, each time bringing him fresh food and water. Arthur began to notice a warm feeling in his chest every time he saw the merman, and couldn’t help but smile when he noticed the glint of golden locks in the sunlight. He’d long since accepted his attraction to men; though it was looked down on by many people, pirates often weren’t as discriminate about it. He’d had a few flings with crewmates and even enemies, but nothing had ever been serious. Still, he told himself these weren’t real feelings, he was just becoming attached because the merman had shown him such kindness. Of course, it was only expected that he’d feel this way for someone who was nursing him back to health, and obviously he was more excited about the prospect of food than seeing the beautiful merman. Obviously.

Arthur knew the merman could understand him, but whenever he tried to start a conversation, all he received in response were nods and the occasional hum.

For weeks, the only person he saw was the merman. He’d lost count of the days, and in his state he’d probably slept much longer than usual so it was impossible to keep track anyway. That changed on a dark afternoon, when storm clouds were brewing in the small patch of sky he could see through the mouth of the cave, and he heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Thoughts of the terrible night that started all this were plaguing him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if he could somehow block them out. The splash of water near the entrance caused him to open them; it was a sign that the merman was approaching, though he didn’t usually make so much noise. The first thing he noticed was a glint of red, but he didn’t have time to take in the stranger’s face before he was nearly on top of him.

“Human!” The stranger snarled, baring his many long fangs.

Arthur’s eyes widened and he pressed himself against the wall. He could stand now, and move slowly without it hurting too much, but he wouldn’t be able to fight back for long. Sharp nails dug into his shoulders, making him cry out, but they disappeared almost instantly as the new merman was flung backwards.

“Magnus, stop!” A voice thundered through the cave. Holding onto the intruder was the merman – his merman – and oh gosh he had never looked so heroic or stunning. Arthur’s chest ached, and he was sure it wasn’t just due to exhaustion.

The red-tailed merman – Magnus, apparently – glared at him, but his face was twisted in confusion. “What are you playing at, Even? He’s a human! And he’s in our territory!”

Even bent his head as if in shame, then raised it to glare into the other merman’s eyes. “I brought him here.”

“What?!” Magnus’ voice was high and spiky to match his hair, but here it jumped in pitch, coming out almost as a squeak.

“Look, just… just come outside, I can explain…” Even looked doubtful even of his own words, but after a moment of consideration, Magnus followed him.

Arthur leant back against the wall, his hands clasped against his chest over his racing heart. He could have died. He could tell from just those few moments that Magnus had the strength to rip him apart in seconds. If Even hadn’t been there…

Arthur realised that was the first time he’d heard the merman’s name. He wasn’t sure if it was the name itself, or the person it was associated with, but something about it sounded so beautiful. “Even,” he murmured softly, then huffed a sigh in spite of himself. Gosh, he was such a hopeless romantic, even when his life was in danger.

“He’s a pirate!” Magnus’ voice echoed through the cave. “Pirates hunt us and they kill us, Even!”

Arthur froze for a moment, but when he realised the mermen weren’t returning to the cave but they must be just outside, he waded towards the entrance to listen a little closer to their conversation.

“This one’s different,” Even said softly. “I… I care about him…”

“Oh, right. Fine!” Pain cracked through the fury in Magnus’ voice. “You can stay here with your precious pirate! See if I care!” From the splash of a tail hitting the water, Arthur could tell Magnus was preparing to dive down again.

“Magnus, wait.” Even’s voice was still quiet, but there was something urgent about it. It was almost as scratchy as Arthur’s had been that first day when he’d been so parched he could barely talk. “Please don’t tell anyone about him.”

There was a long moment of silence, in which Arthur’s heart thudded. He didn’t know what would happen if mermaids caught him, but he knew it wouldn’t be nice.

“Only because I don’t want you to be exiled… or worse…” Magnus’ voice was quieter now.

“Thank you…” Even’s voice was barely a whisper, so pained that Arthur could barely hear it.

A few more splashes, then all was quiet. Arthur began to doubt that Even was coming back when he finally swam into the cave again. Along with the film of water that always covered his face, teardrops were spilling down his cheeks. He immediately swam towards Arthur, taking his arm and brushing his fingers over the small cuts in his shoulder. “I’m sorry about that,” he whispered.

Arthur shook his head dismissively, although it made his neck ache. “You saved me,” he said. “Again. Thank you…”

Even shrugged, still examining the cuts.

“Who was that?” Arthur asked.

Even took a few moments to answer. “My best friend. At least… he used to be.” He finally looked away from the injury, but kept his head down as he took Arthur’s arm and guided him over to the seaweed bed.

They sat in silence, watching the water reflected on the walls. “Do you want to talk about it?” Arthur asked after a moment.

Even looked at his hands, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. The other mers used to bully me when we were little, but Magnus always stood up for me… I don’t know what I’ll do without him…” Even’s voice was choked, the tears becoming a waterfall. “He means everything to me.”

“You like him?” Arthur asked. He felt his heart sink.

Even shook his head. “Not like that. People often assume that, but no… I-” He caught himself, pressing his thin lips together, as if he’d been about to say something he shouldn’t.

Arthur looked away from him, his heart beating almost as fast as when he’d been attacked. Even made his feelings so confused, the rich sound of his voice made it impossible to concentrate. “Why have you not spoken to me before?”

Even shrugged. “I figured it was easier. I didn’t want to get too attached, I didn’t want to care about you.”

“But you said you did, out there.”

Even turned away from him, a hand on his own cheek. He almost looked like he was blushing. “Well, I… in the time you’ve been here,” he mumbled through his hand. “I have grown somewhat attached.”

The warm feeling flooded through Arthur’s chest again, and he fought back the smile that was threatening to besmirch his passive face. “Well then, I suppose it would be fair to say that I have grown somewhat attached to you as well.”

Even turned back to him, and the corner of his lips quirked into a small smile.

Arthur’s chest constricted as he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Why did you rescue me?”

“I saw you, sinking. I knew that you were a pirate, but I… I could tell you were still alive,” Even didn’t meet his eyes. “I couldn’t just leave someone to die.”

“How could I repay you?” he asked.

“You don’t have to,” Even assured him. “I was just doing the right thing. I would’ve done it for anyone.”

“Yes…” Arthur murmured. That was it, the thing that had been in the back of his mind since they’d met. Even didn’t know anything about him, only that he was a pirate, but he had still saved his life and looked after him for weeks. It wasn’t because there was anything special about Arthur, it was because Even would have done it for anyone, because he had the kindest heart of anyone Arthur had ever met. In that moment, Arthur realised his feelings for Even weren’t something that could be ignored. He was in love. “Perhaps if I…” he started slowly. “Perhaps if I kissed you…” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the full weight of his feelings were clear in his thick voice.

Even stared at him with an unreadable expression, anxiety building in Arthur’s chest with every passing second. Eventually, the smile reappeared on his face. “I think I would consider that sufficient repayment.”

Arthur brushed his thumb against Even’s cheek, and leaned closer to him. Even closed his eyes as his lips connected with Arthur’s, they had the same salty taste as seawater. It was fitting, Arthur supposed, that someone who loved the sea so much would fall for one from waves.

#aph england #aph norway #aph noreng #hetalia #hetaliamondaychallenge

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lumassen · 4 years

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What if aph England was a Scouser?

This came from a conversation on a discord server about what accent people headcanon England to have as we have so many, and as a northerner I like to think he would rock a northern accent. Based off several headcanons that England and Norway are good friends, and that nations move around a lot to avoid being clocked by their citezens for the fact that they don't age, I bring you this random drabble:

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It was getting dark by the time Norway finally arrived in the port of Liverpool and stepped off the ship. It had been 5 years at least since he'd seen Arthur, and perhaps 15 or more since he'd last visited England, and since finding out that Arthur was now living in Liverpool he took the opportunity to visit him when he was there on a trip.

Stepping down from the gangway, Norway tightned his scarf a little tighter around himself, the biting cold winter air slipping through any opening in his coat that it could find. Pulling back his glove to check his wristwatch, he noticed they'd got in a little late even though they hadn't really been delayed when they set off from Bergen.

Turning back to the ship for a moment, Norway watched with a small smile as his crew who'd kindly let him come along with them began to unload the large Norwegian Spruce. Since 1942 he'd given a Christmas tree as a gift to the people of England as a token of gratitude for the support they had given him during the second world war, something he would never forget. It started off as a single, 60 or so year old Spruce that was cut down specially and gifted to be put up in Trafalgar Square every year, but in recent years Norway had started gifting a couple more to other cities around the UK, and this year he had one for Durham, Oxford and Liverpool cathedral.

When he was satisfied that his crew didn't need any help, Norway waved a quick goodbye to them before setting off across the docks. He walked slowly at first, admiring the Christmas lights that decorated lamp posts and trees until he spotted England sat on a bench at the end of the docks. Quickening his pace so to not keep him waiting much longer, Norway's smile broadened just a little more. He and England were old friends despite their past differences and conflicts, and Norway had been looking forward to this visit since he found out that England living here.

"Long time no see." He said as he stopped in front of England, who looked up away from his smartphone and put it in his pocket.

"Likewise," he said with a smile, standing up and grasping Norway's hand in a firm, friendly handshake before pulling him in for a hug.

"So, Liverpool eh? I thought you'd be more of a country house in the cotswolds kinda old man by now, so I'm a bit surprised to find you here." Norway teased as they started strolling away from the docks and toward the city centre.

It was the end of November, so despite it being nearly dark it was still only 4pm in the afternoon and the streets were still full of people. For the past few years Norway had been living in the depths of the countryside up in Narvik with more sheep around him than people, so it felt strange yet nice to be surounded by so many people again.

England laughed a little, "Yeah, I fancied living somewhere a little livelier. I was getting a bit fed up in a big drauhty house down south, I found that I always had a proper cob on so I knew I needed to move to somewhere with a bit of atmosphere. I know we shouldn't have favourite citzens, but I've always had a soft spot for the people of Liverpool." he said, and Norway was shocked at how much his accent had changed since the last time he'd seen him.

It happened to most nations who lived among citezens to end up speaking with their accent or dialect, so he wasn't necessarily shocked, just a little taken aback.

Whether it was the fact that his own English skills were a little rusty from living in a rural place where not many of his citezens around him spoke anything but Norwegian or the fact that England's accent had thickened he wasn't sure, but Norway was struggling to keep up with him.

"What abar you? Where you living?"

"Er, Narvik. Been there about 7 years. It's nice." Norway said, with not much else to add. Narvik was Narvik. He went fishing occasionally, but other than that he was either buried in paperwork or eating or sleeping these days.

"Fancy a bevvy while we have a natter? There's a bar close by that's proper sound, you'll love it, and no I won't get bladdered before you say anything." England said as they turned the corner, and Norway quite honestly didn't understand a word that he just said.

"A bevvy?" he repeated, and Arthur turned to look at him and raised a large eyebrow,

"Yeah, a drink. Do you not fancy it?"

Norway blinked a couple of times, trying to get his head around England's changed accent. Sure, he knew that dialects and accents were a common thing, and back in his country he had many unique ones himself, but the way that England was rolling his 'r's and talking from the back of his throat on some words was tough enough to understand without the added slang.

"Sorry, yes I'm happy to have a drink with you." Norway said, a smirk crossing his lips at the fact that England was so oblivious to his change in accent.

They talked about this and that while they walked to the bar, England asked after Denmark and Iceland and they discussed the upcoming football championship until they arrived to a wobbly looking old stone pub nestled among the more modern buildings of the city. One of the things that Norway loved about visiting England was hidden gems such as this, and in summer he loved touring old castles and historical sights with Arthur.

Norway stepped inside as England held the door open for him, relieved to be inside and out of the wind. The smell of beer hit him immediately and he could feel the carpet sticking to the bottom of his shoes.

He spotted an empty table and took a seat, England following him and sitting down opposite, taking his gloves off and stuffing them into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"God it's baltic out there, but I'm proper made up that you've come to visit though. Actually this probably isn't that bad for you is it, now you're living in Narvik." England laughed, rubbing his cold hands together before he stood up again, "Let me get you a bev, back in a tick." he said before pushing his way to the bar.

Norway watched England as he leant on the bar, laughing with the bartender and chatting away and sighed, still not fully understanding what the hell he'd just said. He was pleased though that England was happy and settled in Liverpool. He'd had it rough the past couple of years with the whole Brexit thing which had obviously made him move as a distraction if anything else and Norway was glad to be catching up with an old friend, but had he realised that he would struggle to understand England as much as he was then he might not have suggested staying for a whole week...

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lol. For those people not from the UK and aren't familiar with a Scouse accent I tried to find a video. The best one I could find is still a bit crappy, but the girl at 0:12 is a prime example of how fast Scousers speak that not even I or the subtitles could keep up with her at first.

Click for the video

this fic is the closest I've ever got to writing a crack fic and this is purely self indulgent im sorry lol

#aph england #aph norway #engnor #noreng #hetalia #hws england #hws norway

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