A/N:THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is my NaNoWriMo project. For 30 days I ate, drank, breathed, and dreamed of this story. Everything else was pushed into the background. Life, work, family…everything. It is a pirate piece, 'cause, Spain looks hot in pirate clothes, and being all kickass. Plus him and Romano are one of my favorite pairings (next to Russia/Lithuania). I came up with the plot spur of the moment after reading about this particular pirate: Edward Low. While doing some of my research my jaw actually dropped at some of the horrific things that he did. Reading about him inspired me to write a serious pirate piece starring Spain/Antonio, and Romano/Lovino.
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all characters are not mine. Languages other than English are curtsey of Google Translate.
Pairings: Spain/S. Italiy(Romano), other pairings will be in the background.
Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, and nonconsensual sexual situations. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
Chapter Warning: Brutal violence.
Il Diavolo Sorriso
"Of all the piratical crews that were ever heard of, none of the English name came up to this, in barbarity. Their mirth and their anger had much the same effect, for both were usually gratified with cries and groans of their prisoners; so that they almost as often murdered a man from excess of good humour, as out of passion and resentment; and the unfortunate could never be assured of safety from them, for danger lurked in their very smiles."
Philip Ashton (on his life with Captain Edward Low's crew)
Lovino dreamed of church bells ringing loud, the knells bouncing off stone walls and sending doves flying into the blue sky. There was warm food, dripping juices, soft breads, and sugary pastries. He stood behind grandfather, bare toes black from soot, staring the man's broad sweaty back as he brought a large hammer down on an anvil. There were sparks that sprang from burning hot metal the color of red, orange, and gold, shining bright like the beaten sun. Feliciano was hanging from the window outside, singing loudly in beat with grandfather's bang, bang, bang.
"Come on, Lovino! You have such a wonderful voice! Sing with me!"
He woke to a fist twisting in his shirt, yanking him out of the hammock he slept in that hung against the far inner wall of the ship's kitchen. With a yell the was half asleep, he slammed face first into the floorboards. Mind reeling, and eyes adjusting to the dark, he found that same hand jerking him up to his bare feet. Lovino cried out, and swung his fist at the shadow that was accosted him, his hand meeting flesh, teeth, and spit. He was let go and he stumbled into the large cutting table, clutching it as he squinted, trying to recognize the man who was attacking him.
"Touch me again, fucker, and I'm taking it to the captain," He swore.
The Melody was not a very large rig, manned only by twenty or so men as they headed south from Nova Scotia. They were a crew of British and Americans; their Captain, a man by the surname Smith, was loud and brash, a combination that Lovino both respected and feared. He was a fair man, but severe to any he thought was shirking on his duties. Lovino himself had been cuffed after oversleeping and not helping the cook prepare the crews meals. One man, during the first days after their departure, was strapped after stealing some coins that belonged to another crewmember. No, their Captain did not take well to dissention on his ship. They were too few, and every man had to be accounted for, even the useless Italian boy.
The attacker lunged for him again, and Lovino ducked under the table, kicking his heels out to trip the man, who fell heavily. It was then that the young man saw the cutlass, its blade shining ominously in the little moonlight that came from the single window in the kitchen. He froze for merely a second, but it proved to be his downfall, for the assailant used it to capture on skinny ankle with both hands and viciously pulled him from the table. Before Lovino had a chance to kick him, a solid fist met his stomach, air whooshing out, and leaving him breathless and limp as he was pulled up by his shirt. Not given a chance to take a breath in, he was backhanded, and would have fallen had his attacker not kept hold of his now torn shirt. When Lovino tried to cry out, his mouth was covered and his voice stifled.
"Resist me again," hissed the man, "and I will gut you like a fish and feed you your own entrails." Lovino froze at the voice, European accented, and through tearing eyes could now make out a bespectacled face of a man who was not part of the Melody's crew. A second later gunshots were heard above deck, and he stiffened in the other's hold, whimpering as the sounds of men's agonized screams came down the passageway where the crew bunked and slept.
It was over quickly, the violent sounds dying out, yet the cries continuing. A trumpet sounded, and Lovino's captor let out a sigh and removed his hand from the boy's mouth. "Let's go," he ordered, and proceeded to drag the other out of the kitchen. Lovino clenched his eyes shut as they stepped over bodies of crewmembers that had even been shot or cut down. Throats were slit and faces were unrecognizable from both knife and musket wounds.
Lovino's feet caught on something and he fell to the floor, his shirt ripping. He had a chance to only look back and nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the sight of the cook he was apprenticing under, a portly man who liked to eat more than cook, sprawled in the corner with his throat slit and stomach ripped open, his innards spilled out. His pigly hands seemed to have frozen in death trying to hold his organs in. Lovino was yanked up by his hair, and this time he was not silenced with he screamed in both terror and agony. The brute pirate holding him had no sympathy for his fears, nor his flailing, simply continuing to drag his acquisition through the inner part of the ship, past the carnage that was continuing to occur as more men were murdered as they tried to flee for their lives. Lovino was finally pulled up to the deck, amazingly this time not stumbling on his useless feet that seemed to have lost all strength.
Dawn was coming, the dark sky turning a deep blue, and clouds turning crimson as if aware of the bloodshed that was occurring. Lovino stared up into the sky, seeing the last star twinkle and die as it was consumed by the light of the sun that was shedding light to the deck. The Italian was dragged onwards to where a score of his crewmates sat bound and under guard by a gaggle of armed pirates. Lovino did not have the heart to look the other men, fear and terror continuing to rip through him as he started to whisper and gasp the Lord's prayers; for there was no way that he would survive this. Grandfather had not survived; slain on a ship very much like this one while hiding his grandsons from harm. Sweet, happy Feliciano had not fared well either, carried away by a raid of pirates in the port of Nova Scotia where the brothers had settled merely a month prior. Whether he lived or continued in servitude with the criminals who press-ganged him was beyond him, but still he prayed for their unfortunate souls. And now, the last of the Vargas men would meet the same fate.
His captor did not bind him like the other men, rather kept a firm grip of the boy's hair, and looping an arm around his neck, not with enough force to choke him but firmly enough to warn of violence if he tried to so much as breath the wrong way. Despite his fear Lovino had to hold himself back from digging his teeth into the devil's arm, for though a coward, he was not one to go down without some resistance. His grandfather had beaten him enough times due to pick pocketing shiny watches and coins, and each time he had cried and writhed and kicked.
"Lovino, I want you to be a good honest man," His grandfather Ramos had said in exacerbation. "Why cannot you be obedient like your brother? You are the oldest and should set an example."
"Feliciano lives to obey you!" Lovino had wailed; snot and tears staining his eyes and cheeks as he clutched a slightly swollen cheek. "You take him with you when you travel and leave me alone to sell the wares. You allow him out into the market for hours and give him coins to spend but you give me NOTHING! How do you want me to be honest, grandpa, when you yourself are not honest in that you favor Feliciano over me!"
It had been an old fight, one that repeated itself over and over again. Lovino loved his family, but he could not stop the bitter taste of jealously as he watched his grandfather swoon over his younger brother. They were twins, and looked mostly alike, but while Lovino was full of the devil's mischief, Feliciano was sweet and smiled, often mistaken for a girl with the way he talked, enjoyed sweets and nice smelling things and smooth clothes that felt like silk on the skin. Lovino was messy and mostly muddy, and often covered in soot from the smithy that he helped his grandfather in. Feliciano was allowed to go to the bakery and watch them make the sweet breads and cakes, and because of his wonderful disposition he was often allowed to take some home. His brother was a glutton, but if he saw Lovino would offer him the last bit. Feliciano showed talent in the arts, Grandfather Ramos spent his coin for paper and ink and colored paints for Feliciano to dabble and draw in. Even Lovino could not say naught of his brother's talents, for he was gifted, and though shined under the wonder that people showed him, he never rubbed it in Lovino's face.
He was jealous of his brother, but he could not find fault with them, and in that he truly loved Feliciano in all his simplicity and genius.
And now, with his proud grandfather Ramos Vargas, and his talented twin brother Felicino Vargas, he would disappear into the dust. However, there would be no one to pray the Lord's prayer and give him a proper burial. There would be no grave, no one to remember that Lovino had been alive once, and no one to see and talk of how he died.
Slowly, Lovino managed to lift his head slightly and looked around the ship. More bodies of his crewmen lay scattered on the deck. The sails had been ripped into shreds, the white fabric flowing eerily in the morning wind. He could see three ships surrounding the Melody, the Jolly Roger raised high with impetuous pride of Lucifer. He squinted at the flags, trying to recognize their marks as he went through the pirates he knew in his head. Mostly Lovino was familiar with the English pirates, however based on the accent of the one holding him he was unsure whether these with British pirates or of some other origins.
He started at the sound of harsh laughter, and he glanced at two pirates that were strolling across the deck arm in arm, completely oblivious to the carnage around them. They stopped in their journey to look upon Lovino and his captor, and the boy felt a shiver run through him as they diverted from their path and came towards him.
"Roderick!" Crowed one of the men, and in the morning dawn light Lovino could not help but gasp at the abomination before him. The speaking man has the palest skin he had ever seen, his hair ash white, lacking any color despite his obvious seamanship. His eyes however were red like the fires of hell, wicked with glee as they darted back and forth to the cowering prisoners and the dead that surrounded them. His companion was of another sort, handsome in the way that he belonged to a renaissance painting; blond hair bound back in a blue ribbon that matched blue eyes that shared the same mirth as the devil's spawn, but with something else altogether that still held a certain menace and danger despite his aestheticism. The bible said that the Devil sometimes took the body of man to deceive him, and here was one who fit the looks and demeanor. Truly both woman and man would happily fall into his arms and deep into sin, just to be in held in his presence.
The White Man broke away and came around to his captor and jostled him, ignoring Lovino's pained gasp as his hair was viciously pulled, and the arm around his neck tightened uncomfortably.
"Roderick, you aristocratic coward, you only managed to get the cabin boy? What, couldn't take on a real man?" The White Man let out horrible cackle and kicked at Lovino's side, making him cry out as agony fired through his ribs.
His captor, the man called Roderick, let out a sigh. "Who is the coward here, Gilbert? The one who managed to capture a man alive or the one who has nothing to show our captain but the bodies of dead men?"
The blond man came up to them now, kneeling down slightlt to look into Lovino's frightened eyes. "A man? More child than man, dear Roderick. Look at the cute fat on his cheeks, just like a babe waiting to latch onto his mother's tits for milk." The man, who spoke with a recognizable French accent, leered and leaned in closer, and Lovino felt himself freeze in horror as the man's hand came up to stroke one blood-stained gloved finger down his cheek. The blood was still wet, and all Lovino could smell the iron stench of man's life, taken away by brutal barbarity.
Roderick made a disgusted sound, and though it pained the Italian, he was grateful when he was pulled away from the sordid touch. "You are a man of wretched diversions, Francis. Keep your perversions to yourself until the captain has a chance to choose what he wants done with the survivors." He paused, the hold on Lovino's hair loosening slightly. "What a miserable catch this time. I saw that the men pulled out only one crate of arms, and nothing else but seeds and grains going to British colonies in the Caribbean. There wasn't even a hint of any silks or clothes that could be made of use."
"Always so arrogant," griped the White Man. "There are men to be had! I lost a good bunch of my crew on the Knight when we attacked that damn port some weeks ago. I also heard Antonio say he wanted more men for The Emma."
"And yet knowing this you decided to cut down every able man that crossed swords with you," argued Roderick.
"Che," the other scoffed, "I cut down any fool who chooses to resist. The captain is the same, and you know it." He then came forward and pushed the blond Frenchman away, grabbing at Lovino's face and pulling his head up so that the White Man did not have to kneel. "Do you know who our captain is, little potato sprout? Speak up or I will shave off the lard from your fat cheeks."
His tone held such menace that Lovino abruptly shouted out despite the hold on his jaw, "N-No!"
The Frenchman tsked in disappointment and stepped back, letting the devil man full room to press forward in intimidation. "I can tell see that you are no British dog. What are you? Dutch? Swede? Which seed had borne you?"
Despite himself, Lovino felt his face flush red as he stuttered, "I-Italian."
"Vargas," he shut his eyes to block out the horrid red eyes. "Lovino Vargas." And then suddenly he felt rage build into his stomach, and for lack of self preservation, opened his eyes and looked right at the fiend as he growled out, "And I'm no cabin boy, you son of a whore."
He heard a crewmember to the right gasp in horror, while another one cried out, "God spare you, Lovino, keep your mouth shut and you might survive this!"
By the outraged look in the White Devil's eyes, Lovino was not sure he would survive the next second. His face was let go, but Lovino could not muffle the terrified squeal when the man pulled out his cutlass. "Move aside, Roderick," snarled the white pirate, "or else I might be forced to mar that pretty face of yours when I cut out this cur's tongue."
The arm around Lovino's tightened, and he was forced to shuffle his feet when Roderick stepped back. "Find your own victim, Gilbert," snarled the pirate at his comrade. "If you are want for more bloodshed go find a carcass and cut it up to your likings. I plan to let Captain Carriedo choose this boy's fate. And though you captain one of the ships that is part of this crew, you are not the captain of our Armada."
At the man's words, Lovino felt himself stiffen and sickness spread to his joints and festered in his stomach. He could heel his hands and feet go cold and clammy, and all blood rush from his face leaving him feeling faint.
He recognized the names.
The Armada was a small fleet of only three ships that was captained by a crazed Spanish seadog. Though only recently becoming known, word of his vicious cruelty that went beyond anything heard of in years sent shivers of fear and terror through anyone who thought of having the unfortunate luck of crossing paths: Captain Carriedo el Diablo. A man of sadistic pleasures, whom survivors said smiled as we watched men burned to the bone.
The blond pirate chuckled, and placed a hand on his white comrade's shoulder, "It seems the boy now knows who we are. Look at how he tries to not wet himself."
True, Lovino wanted to do nothing else but wet his trousers, however having it pointed out sent him into another enraged bout of insanity. Truly, he must have lost all will to live, for he let legs buckle, startling the man holding him, and then sank his teeth into the man's arm.
The pirate yelled, then cursed, letting go of Lovino's hair to swing down at him with a fist, however Lovino was quick in ducking and then kicking out at the man's nether regions. With another cry, this timed pained, the pirate stumbled back, and Lovino lunged at the two startled devils in front of him, knowing full well the White Man merely could swing his sword and sever his head from his shoulders.
He prayed to the Holy Father that he would not feel any pain.
A wall suddenly appeared between the pirates at him, so abruptly that Lovino crashed right into it and sprawled backwards and slamed to the ground. Reeling, he lifted his head up to see what he had collided with and found himself staring right into a pair of wicked green eyes, brown skin, and a grin of a man who seemed to have appeared out of the air.
A man who had gotten in the way of his hopefully swift death.
A man who smiled with the devil in his eyes.
Lovino knew…KNEW who stood before him.
"Carriedo il Diavolo," he said, and watched in frozen awe as the smiling lips spread clear across the man's tanned face. He looked like a loon. He wore deep brown trousers, with a white ruffled blouse that was not tied at the top, its opening dipping low so that one could see contoured ridges of the man's abdomen and chest. He wore a long red coat over his shoulders with gold buttons that lined down the middle, and golden cufflinks on black cuffs. He wore a red had with a ridiculously large white plume that shook and trembled with ever twitch the man made.
"Ah, Italian!" the man exclaimed in false excitement. "And such a little one at that! Yet you were charging at my men so fiercely, and your face was so red it reminded me of a little tomato." Then the man reached forward and grabbed the horrified boy's cheeks and pinched as he laughed, "Look, Gilbert! More tomato than potato, yes?"
Roderick, face slightly flushed in pain, came forward to cut off the White Devil, "Captain," he said a bit tightly. "I found him sleeping in the kitchen."
Captain Carriedo released Lovino's cheeks, switching his hold to one of his arms and pulled the boy up to his feet as he addressed his man. "And the cook? I might fancy a few words with him."
"I killed him before I knew who he was."
"Such a shame," the captain's smile did not falter a moment as he turned to look down at Lovino. The young man felt his whole body break into a cold sweat as green eyes met his once again. "You were in the kitchen," the pirate spoke, "that means you worked there, yes?"
Lovino tried to pull himself back, but the hands on his shoulders tightened painfully. He tore himself away from the man's smiling gaze, and muttered sourly, "So? What if I did? Want me to bake you a cake or something since you seem to be having so much fun?"
There was a deafening silence that followed, in which Lovino felt all eyes trained on him, some in shock, others in horror. Finally, one prisoner started to say the prayer, believing that now Lovino's mouth had cost him his life.
"Can you?" Lovino's head snapped up in shock at Captain Carriedo's question, "Can you bake a cake for me if I ask? I have heard that Italians are second to the French in food, though I myself am partial to my homeland's dishes."
The boy could do nothing but gape up at the man, who was looking away in faraway thought. Quick as a gunshot he placed a hand on the side of Lovino's neck and shoved him firmly to the side where Roderick stood. "I need you to make me something, poco de tomate, so fetch what you need to boil me something good. I shall provide the meat; you will make me happy, right?"
Lovino sputtered brainlessly, and did not have thought to fight back as the bespectacled pirate took hold of his arm and guided him back towards the lot. "If you value your life, and the lives of your crewman, you will do as the captain says," the man whispered as he ushered Lovino down the steps and pushed him into the kitchen, completely ignoring the bodies that they were forced to scramble over.
"Only a man fucking crazed would think of eating now," Lovino snapped, but did not pause as he swiftly opened the cabinets and pulled out various pots, dropping a bunch in his haste. He filled a bucket with some clean water, and then pulled out some onions and salt and a jar that held mixed spices. His arms full, Lovino found himself standing aimlessly in the kitchen, glancing to and fro, unable to think of anything that might please the mad Spanish captain. "He's going to kill me," he gasped, looking at pirate who stood sentry at the entrance of the kitchen. "He's going to fucking kill me, and you're going to stand there and watch."
Roderick the pirate sighed, walked up to Lovino and took the bucket of water from his shaking hand. He had not noticed that he was trembling, yet there was nothing he could do to stop it. "You will do as the captain asks," spoke Roderick, and Lovino looked up into impassive eyes, now able to recognize the clear Austrian in the man's inflection. "You will make whatever he tells you, and you might have a chance of survival. Otherwise you will be nothing more than one more body added to his belt of victims."
The sun had fully risen when they emerged from below. Lovino could see that there were nearly ten of his crewmen now bound in a single line, with the Captain Carriedo el Diablo pacing back and forth; swinging his plumed hat as if waving the morning heat from his face like a lady of class.
"Mi Italiano, you've finally come to join us! Come and set yourself up right here!" Lovino found himself ushered forward to the center of the gaggle of men. Pirates came forward as well, forming a close circle so all could see what their captain was about with their new acquisitions.
Lovino set up an iron holder, and placed the pot on top of it. Underneath he set up a small iron bowl, where he placed some wood and bits of coal and hay. Striking a flint he quickly set it ablaze and carefully filled the pot with water from the bucket. Furtively, he glanced up at the Spaniard who stood watching him with a pleased look in his wicked eyes, his hands on his hips and feet spread wide in sheer bravado.
Lovino wanted to take the pot of hot water and douse the man with it.
Instead, he muttered lowly, "So, where's the meat you said you had?"
"Eh?" the man looked at him dumbly.
The boy felt his face flush in rage at the look, and shouted, "The meat. Carne. You understand that?"
"Ah yes, thank you for reminding me!" The man snapped his fingers, and three of his men sprang forward, dragging with them a bloodied man. Lovino felt his eyes widen at the sight of Captain Smith, who now was stripped of his coat and belt. His shirt was torn and bloodied, his hair untied and tangled, matted with sweat. Captain Carriedo looked like young haughty prince compared to the Englishman, with his fine clothes and devilish smile as he addressed the prisoners.
"Men of the Melody, I came here with simple intention: to acquisition your goods if there was any to be had, and to ask for able bodied men to join my merry crew of journeymen. However, though we gave forewarning, you were ordered to resist, and resist us you did. Now you kneel before me as my prisoners." He walked close to the kneeling men, making eye contact with each unfortunate man as if to assure himself that all were listening well to his flamboyant lesson. "First, I will be done with those who I have no use of. All men bound by the lord to a woman shall stand and be taken from this scene. Do so, now."
three men stood, and were quickly pulled from the line and ushered away back into the below deck, most likely taken to the hold. Once they were out of sight, he beckoned for the three that held Captain Smith forward. The Spaniard pulled out a slim dagger, and Lovino did not see the man move, but suddenly he was on the other man, and blood was spilled as Captain Smith let out a horrendous shriek.
And in a moment Carriedo was done with his work, both hands bloodied, and in his right hand he help a mass of flesh that Lovino could not recognize until looked to his captain and saw the man with nothing but torn tissue where his lips once were. The pirate captain then came up to where Lovino knelt next to his now boiling pot, and with grin he said down to the horrified Italian boy, "Now see, I promised you meat." And dropped the two slivers of lips into the pot. They hissed, remaining afloat as the water's color changed to a sickish pink, and then slowly sank.
Lovino felt his stomach heave, and would have lost his meal from the night before right there, but stopped when the devil man stooped right next to him, placing a comforting arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. "You do not look satisfied with what I have given you. Perhaps you are need of some more meat, perhaps enough to fill the pot? The English dog has plenty for me to carve to your liking."
Lovino stared right at the man's smiling face. "You're mad," he whispered, "You cannot have been born a man."
Captain Carriedo's smile dropped a bit at this, pulling back and looking at the boiling pot. "I can assure you that I am fully a man. And yes, I am mad, for your captain has displeased me greatly that I can think of nothing but to feed him his lying lips." He stood, and thankfully walked away from Lovino, returning back to addressing the remaining bound prisoners. "You're proud captain took it upon himself, when we entered his cabin, to dump a box of gold overboard, claiming that he would never let a Spaniard such as me touch English gold. However, what was dumped was not English but Spanish gold – stolen by an English pirate named Alistair the Red some eight years ago after raiding and murdering the crew. How would this gold come into the possession of a merchant English ship I wonder, rather than be hoarded as booty by the pirates?"
He glanced back at Lovino, who stiffened as he was met by that evil gaze. "Surely you do not expect the food to be tasty if you do not season it." Lovino stared at the man dumbly, and then looked back to his pot. Mechanically, as if he were a puppet being pulled and guided by a master who sat above, he peeled the onion, and thoughtlessly accepted a knife from another pirate so that he could cut it into quarters. He added the salt, followed by the spices and herbs he had brought with him, stomach twisting at the putrid smell wafting up into the morning air.
The pirate captain continued to talk to the prisoners, rationalizing why he was doing what he was, but Lovino did not pay any attention to him. Instead he whispered quietly under his breath, eyes trained to his clenched fists on bent knees, "Our Father, Who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name…" And slowly, without slipping on his our words he recited the prayer, and then lifted his head up and looked to the back of the fiend in disguise of a man, and then quietly said, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." He looked to his crewmates, staring at the man who was playing God with their lives. Their eyes were all dead without any defiance against what their fate held in store for them. He looked to the pirates that surrounded them at all sides, some grinning in anticipation for what was to come, others talking to each other in boredom, while others were looking through the bodies of the dead, stripping them of their clothes and what little treasures they kept on them. The bodies were being piled to one side, and one by one they were lifted like a child's ragged doll by hands and feet and thrown overboard.
"I will fear no evil, for You are with me," he repeated, louder this time, blunt nails digging into his legs so that he could feel his skin tearing despite the cover of his pants. As the devil Carriedo returned to him, seeming to have finished what he had to say, Lovino forced himself to look the man in the eyes. For though the devil ran through his veins, Carriedo was born from woman, and grew among men. There was nothing to fear, whatever this man did to his living body, his soul would be immortal.
I shall not fear you, you fucking devil, he vowed to himself.
When the pirate captain smiled at him, Lovino felt something twist in his stomach, and forced his dry lips to move, stretching them into a smirk. He felt a wicked sense of satisfaction at the startled widening of those green eyes, the man surely thinking that he had thought Lovino completely cowed by his barbarity. Without breaking eye contact from the animal, he reached for a wooden ladle and stirred the concoction three times.
"It is ready, Carriedo il Diavolo," he said, making sure to show his teeth as he spooned out one of the now white looking severed lips and offered to it to the man. He heard a few of his crewmates gasp at his unfeeling audacity, but paid them no heed, for like him they were all dead on this earth. His only care was to not give this devil man anything of himself that he would savor later.
The stared at each other, Lovino refusing to budge in his impetuousness, and the pirate still smiling but re-assessing the boy he thought as nothing but a little tomato.
Something changed in his eyes then, the green merriment shifting into something dark and ugly, but still holding some mirth. Dark lashes lowered into hoods over emeralds, and it took all of the Italian young man's willpower not to visibly shudder at look he was receiving.
Slowly, as if trying not to startle the boy, Carriedo took the ladle from Lovino's offered hand. Still staring right down at him, the captain brought the ladle under his nose and sniffed, and then with a devilish grin that showed impossibly white teeth, he brought the abomination to his mouth and sipped at it with a loud sickening sound. "Magnífico, mi italiano," He purred out the words slowly, and so low that Lovino was not sure if the others around them heard.
He could not bear it any longer, casting his eyes downward from the repulsive look. He darted a glance up when he heard the pirate boots walk away from him, and regretted it when Captain Smith let out a garbled screech as Carriedo seized him and brutally shoved the ladle down his disfigured mouth, feeding the man his own flesh. The Spaniard took hold of his head, and kept a hand over the mutilated man, forcing him to chew and swallow.
Lovino's hands came up to his mouth, just as his stomach gave a vicious twist in revulsion at the horrendous sight. One of the bound men bent over and heaved onto the deck, and Lovino could not hold himself back. He grabbed the empty bucket and emptied his stomach loudly. Tears fell from his eyes as he coughed and gagged at the acidic taste in his mouth. He hadn't felt this way since the night Feliciano was taken away. He had curled up on the floor of their home, alone and weeping, throwing up in his grief at everything he had lost.
Using his shirtsleeve, he wiped at his mouth, feeling his body go numb as he looked over his shoulder as Captain Carriedo finally tired of his cruel sport and swiftly slit the man's throat, unflinching as his face and torso got splattered by a gushing of blood. The three pirates who held Captain Smith dragged the limp body and threw him overboard, wiping their sullied hands at a job well done, as if killing was a sport and they had gotten their prize.
Carriedo el Diablo laughed in jubilation, oblivious to the fact that his face was drenched in the slain man's lifeblood. He waved his hands up and addressed the living prisoners. "If you do not want to share the same fate as your captain, I would ask you to please, sign your name on my article, join my Armada and become one of my crew." The French pirate came up to the prisoners, and one by one, the men were untied and each one was given some ink to write their names down. Some wept as they wrote their lives away on the parchment, others, with stiff jaws scribbled in anger. None refused the paper, willing to go along with the devil rather than suffer a wretched death as their captain.
It was Captain Carriedo who unfurled his article and offered a pen to Lovino. The young man looked at the paper and then up at the man. The pirate was not smiling, eyes dark and dangerous. "So, mi Italiano, what of you?"
Lovino glared up at the man, gritting his teeth as rage burned at his now empty belly. "You ask as if I have a choice, demone."
"Even el Diablo gives man choice to follow him."
"You are damning me," Lovino's voice shook.
"We are all damned on this earth." The captain sank to his knees beside Lovino, the blood on the man's face shone bright red, deep crimson staining his white ruffled shirt so that it matched with his red coat and shimmering gold cufflinks. His black plumed hat was askew on his head, making an odd indent into the man's sweaty brow. Carriedo's arm snaked out, wrapping itself like a snake around Lovino's wiry shoulders, and pulling the two closer. Lovino felt his breath leave him as the other's face came closer than what was proper, feeling his eyes nearly bugger out of his head as the man whispered lowly into his ear, "And you, joven, have damned me with your eyes. How shall I be saved?"
With the devil's whisper blowing poison into his ear, Lovino lifted his hand and ended himself in black ink on pirate paper.
A/N: Initially when I started NaNoWriMo, I was going to have a lot of back and forth between Lovino and Antonio about religion and stuff – especially since Lovino was a god-fearing man (as most men were during that time period). The more I wrote, the more nervous I became, since I never studied Christianity, nor am I incredibly familiar with most theologies. Please keep this in mind, for I do not know if I portrayed Lovino properly in this aspect.
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