The Chains of Insanity: Oliver Kirkland [2p!Hetalia]

Seven

My lover, he who rarely shows affection but pours it out during certain nights. I loved François as my 'husband', and I his 'wife'. Many years has passed and there was no 'till death do us part'. He looked as if we have nothing to do with each other whatsoever, but in truth we were so close to each other it happens most of the time. Although not always, for in this modern era he seemed to have waned. He brings home a woman, sometimes a prostitute, every other night, and they end up dead all the time. He killed them. It was almost like a message to me. Perhaps to him it wasn't his intention, but I have a belief in every victim he killed lies a message that he will stay loyal to me. Whenever he has a woman I brought back for him, she wasn't killed. She remained conscious as I tortured the woman. Once to one of my victims I whispered,"This is what you get for sleeping with my husband." I plunge the knife into her, effectively stopping her heart.

Perhaps I shall talk of how we started making love? Maybe that is not the right word. How about the night I started loving him instead of hating?

We used to be rivals, very much like our counterparts. But instead of fighting till today, François and I loved each other with every fibre of our beings. I do not know if he agrees, but I am content to this mindset. Yes, I once had hatred for him as we fought constantly. Even after that night we still had our arguments, caused by our counterparts. True, we were the ones to prod Arthur and Francis to fight, but in a truly interesting way I love François very much, unaffected by Arthur's judgement.

I still remember. It was after I found young Allen in the fields, his eyes having captured my very attention. I took Allen in immediately, just as how Arthur took Alfred under his wing. I then was a privateer, then a pirate. But I remained loyal to royalty. Ironic, isn't it? I loved the life at sea, but yearned to walk on solid ground like before. I would always meet François, always in the midst of battle. Our blades always clashed with each other, and pistols we would raise to each other's head. We always fought, again and again, none of us backing down. To the final drop of blood we sworn in front of our crews, but what petty promises we made. If only they knew what happened much later!

~*~

"As if I would back down from that man!" I shouted in front of my crew.

I stood at the upper deck, my crew looking up at me their captain. Captain Oliver Kirkland. How I had once loved that title.

"Never once had any of us won nor lost against Bonnefoy! What do you say, that we fight a winning battle?" I shouted again, greeted back by roars of agreement. I raised my cutlass to the sky,"I dare say, if we get Bonnefoy down with ropes and he our prisoner, we shall feast for nights and nights!" Agreed again, they did. One said,"All the rum we ever wanted!" Another said,"Aye, with all the women we can get!" I smirked,"Aye, all the glory we could have! The others will respect us! No longer do we have to fear the blasted people who want us dead! We are stronger after all!"

All that pride got to me. I was excited. I couldn't help it. Laugh was all we did, but tragically we cried in fear as we fell defeated by Bonnefoy. I had thought we were winning, but he had the upper hand all along. He was waiting, a trick up his sleeve to defeat my crew once and for all. None of my crew survived. I watched them being cut and stabbed and shot at, helpless to help my crew. I cannot blame them if they were to hate me. My pride became their downfall. The remaining crew who were captured were thrown into the seas bound by ropes, either to drown at the bottom of the sea or to be eaten by eager sharks. Those who fell victim to the sharks painted the sea red, a horrifying memory in my head.

Bonnefoy bound and gagged me, stripped me of my coat, hat and weapons, and I was no longer a captain. Only Oliver. Oliver Kirkland. They laughed at me. Spat at me. Called me names. Since I was androgynous at the time, they even called me a slut. A whore. A whore of their captain. They threatened to kill me there and then, but their captain stopped them. Captain Bonnefoy. As lazy as he was, his mind was what caused his victory. He knew what we were going to do. He knew, he knew, he knew. Which was why we lost. Before we never won. Never lost. That was because I wasn't prideful then. I was focused. We were of equal strength as long as I don't let my guard down. But I did.

He had me thrown into his quarters, and for a long time I was unable to move. My hands were bound together by the wrists and arms behind my back. My feet were tied together by the ankles. My tongue tasted the dirty cloth they used to gagged me. I had struggled, but it only resulted in me hurting myself. I was in pain. My muscles ached.

I had frowned as I heard their joyous cries for winning against 'Captain Kirkland'. I was not deaf to their loud boasts. Once I heard that they'll rape me, it sent shivers not only up my spine but to my whole body. I didn't want to be touched by men who won their victory just because of their captain. Not a finger I want laid on me. I swore to myself that I'll cut down every man who even have their eyes full of lust on my body.

I somehow had fallen asleep. When I woke up I was no longer bound, but the feeling of the ropes on my skin was still there. I felt beneath me something soft, and my eyes opened to meet the eyes of my enemy. I shot up, my hands reaching for my cutlass and pistol only to realise it was not there. Both were taken away from me when they had me beneath their knees.

Bonnefoy sat up, his hair dishevelled and dark rings under his eyes. His shirt was buttoned halfway, showing off his chest by a bit, and his boots were missing. He raised a hand only to have me back away, afraid of being hurt. Or worse. He spoke, his voice low but rough,"By what means do you have the right to steal my heart?" Cheesy, but my instant reply was: "Excuse me, but by what means do you have the right to sleep next to me?" My voice loud but scratchy. My lips were dry, I realised. He reached for me again. Before I could back away any further he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him.

With his other hand he grabbed my chin, our faces so close I could smell his breath laced with rum. But I smelled something else. Wine. Was he one to think himself higher than others? Drinking wine like a gentleman? I believe he drained a whole bottle. He said,"You were oblivious..." "Right, I was oblivious to the fact I brought my crew straight to the gates of Hell by your hand!" I spat at him. He ignored my comment, wiping his face of my spit and continued,"... To my feelings." Of course it hit me hard. My very rival, my enemy since we knew how to carry swords, the very man I detested, confessed to me right after I woke up?

I pushed him away but he held his grip on me. I was about to shout another comeback when he placed a finger on my lips, telling me to be silent. A smirk grew on his thin lips, and before I knew it, my feelings of hatred for him diminished, and in replacement it was affection.

He was upon me so quickly I knew who would dominate in the coming future, and to this very day he still had power over me.