Maybe Pirates Aren't So Savage After All

Heartbreak And Impulse

It should be noted there is a headcanon about Sweden's accent/speech in this. "Sweden's mumbling speech isn't because of his accent. It's because during the Kalmar Union, the night he and Finland fled, Denmark hit him hard enough to damage the speech centre of his brain. Only recently has he started the process of forgiving Denmark for stealing his words from him."

    Sweden stares at the pirate ship, unsure how to feel. This will be his home for who knows how long, and that makes him slightly hesitant. He shakes his head and boards, silencing his doubts. He's a Viking! Well, was a Viking, but he still has some of the traits of a Viking. Like diving headlong into things, especially when they make him nervous. He takes a deep breath once on the ship, and glances around quickly. Other crew members are bustling about, either working or greeting the new arrivals. No one approaches Sweden, but he was expecting that. It looks like he'll be too busy to think about Finland and the breakup, which is good. That's the whole reason he decided to do this in the first place.
Finland suddenly yelling at him that he is not Sweden's wife, nor will he ever be, and that he never consented to a relationship with him in the first place had stung. It had stung so much that Sweden had started crying the moment the angry country left his sight. And he really hadn't stopped crying until that day. But he remembered England's pirate ship was rumored to be coming ashore for new crew members, and without thinking too much about it, he had made arrangements to get on said ship. He toys with the edge of his cloak, where it's fraying slightly, and sighs. He wonders if he's going to regret doing this, or if it will help him get over Finland. He hopes he can get over the pain, but he's not too sure it's possible. "Oi! New crew, line up! You're getting assignments now! Old crew, continue on with your work! I can handle them by myself." The people on the ship start moving in different directions at the demanding voice. Most of them get back to work, but some start to form a line. Sweden joins the smaller group, amused. He had no idea England could be so ruthless.
"What do you think you're doing, wearing that?" England motions at the cloak wrapped around Sweden's shoulders. It's a deep blue, like his shirt, and lined with fur. He pulls it tighter around himself, protective of the item, since it's a relic of his Viking days.
"Keeps me warm. there's nothing wrong with me wearin' it." Sweden replies quietly, his cheeks tinting pink at the sudden barrage of attention from everyone on the ship. However, he is proud of himself for being able to enunciate his words properly. He can't let England know it's him. He had new glasses made as well, so he's not as easily recognizable.
"Nothing wrong with you wearing it?" England smirks, and steps closer. He reaches out and grabs ahold of the clasp at Sweden's throat. "I'm the only one allowed an overcoat. This is getting confiscated." With a flourish and the slightest of touches to his neck, Sweden's cloak is whisked away to be bundled up in England's arms. "Anyone else want to stand up to me?" When only silence fills the air, he nods. "Good! You," he points a demanding finger at Berwald. "Since you think it's so wonderful to question your captain, you will be my personal cabin boy. Can't have you getting any other ideas. And this," he holds up the cloak. "Is going somewhere you can't get to. I have a feeling you're going to cause trouble trying to get it back. I'm warning you now; don't even try." The Scandinavian grabs for it in a blind panic, but his fingers only close on air. England grabs his wrist tightly and narrows his eyes. "I told you not to try to get it back. Listen to me, or I am throwing it in the ocean."
"You cannot do that! It is important to me! Give it back!" Despite his panic, he somehow still manages to keep his words clear. His head hurts now from the amount of oxygen he used, but he pushes it aside for the moment.
"If it's so important, then you will do as I say!" England tugs on his wrist, pulling him closer even though Berwald is bigger. He lowers his voice into a hiss. "You are already on thin ice. Do not give me a true reason to make you walk the plank. I will revel in watching you slowly tire out, and eventually drown. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and only if I give you permission. Understood?" Sweden feels a shudder travel down his spine, and he finds himself nodding. "Good cabin boy. You followed the rules perfectly." England shoves him away harshly. "Take him to my room! I'll deal with him when I'm done assigning tasks to the others." He is ushered away quickly.
Sweden finds himself in a lavish room, decorated with guns and swords on the walls. The bed is entirely too big for a single person, and half of it is covered in pillows. Hesitantly he reaches out and pokes one, then grunts in surprise at how soft it is. He lays his hand on the bed, which proves his suspicions of it being even softer correct. There's a quiet chuckle behind him, and he spins around to see England, cloak folded neatly in his arms. "Not only are you defiant, but you're curious too. I'm going to have to keep an eye on you." He places the cloak on a dresser and steps closer, squaring up his shoulders. "You might be larger than I am, but remember I am your captain. Whatever I say goes, no questions allowed. Oh, and these are mine while you're not working." He plucks the glasses off of Sweden's face, causing him to squint involuntarily. England smirks. "That blind? This should be entertaining. I had intended for it to keep you close, least I need you, but you look like you can't even walk without assistance. You'll have to stay close!"
"Jag can walk without assistance," Berwald grumbles, hurting his head more by focusing on his word pronunciation. He flinches back in shock when he feels a sharp pain in his left side. Did England just pull his sword and slash him!? Albeit not deep, but damn!
"I told you not to speak without permission. Be glad I like you, otherwise that would have been much deeper. Though I do suppose I learned something about you when you spoke. You are Nordic. Perhaps of Viking descent, and that's why this cloak is so important to you. It was handed down to you. Don't bother saying anything, I know I am correct." Mostly correct, Sweden thinks. He was the Viking, but at least he knows his appearance alterations are enough to fool England up close. "Anyway, if you think you can walk without these on, then try it. You may not grab hold of anything if you find you cannot. Fall. In. The. Floor." Berwald resists the very strong urge to roll his eyes, and squints them instead. He can sort of see the door, so he starts walking toward it. He manages a pretty straight line, and turns to smirk triumphantly at the captain. He is caught off guard when he receives a smirk back. "Go on, then. If you can really see that well, open it." Shit. He turns back to the door and squints harder, but the doorknob does not become visible. He reaches for about where he thinks it should be and awkwardly feels around for it, his cheeks heating up more and more with each passing second. At least a minute passes before he's sure he's checked everywhere it could be, and he throws his hands up in defeat. The stupid thing disappeared into thin air! England steps closer, looking amused, and reaches around Sweden to crack the door open. He frowns deeply and huffs. "I could lock you in a room just by closing the door and taking your glasses with me. I won't, but I could. I will say that was rather amusing though."
Sweden growls in the back of his throat and snaps his teeth warningly at England. The pirate captain raises his brows, then shakes his head. "You keep giving me more reasons to have you walk the plank. And yet, I find you intriguing. Here, have them back. I have an order for you." He places the glasses in Berwald's hand, and he slips them back on. "Go to the kitchens and ask them to prepare my tea." He pauses. "Make sure to mention they make enough for two. You will be joining me. If you're a good cabin boy, I might let you stay here tonight. I like that idea. If you do well throughout the day, you will be rewarded with sleeping on the couch. If you do not do as I say, or you talk back, have an attitude, anything like that, I will send you to sleep with the others. The couch is nearly as nice as the bed, so I believe that is more than enough reward for you. Now go, before I change my mind about you joining me." He waves his hand dismissively, and Sweden turns on his heel, pushing the door open all the way and walking out. He takes a few deep breaths to even out his anger. England is the captain. He can do as he wishes. That includes order him around, no matter how unused to it he is. At least his mind hasn't strayed to Finland. Until now, that is.

When he gets back, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits on it, England is sitting at a table in the corner he hadn't noticed before. He places the tray on the surface gently, then bows his head respectfully. The captain snorts. "You really are amusing! Disrespectful and feisty one moment, and polite and quiet the next. Come, sit. You may speak openly with me until we have finished here." The stoic nation nods once, and does as he is told. He sits stiffly, and finds himself pouring tea for the captain to keep himself busy. England looks between him and the cup, then shakes his head. "So you met the cook, I see. She's a fiery one." Sweden shakes his head. "No? You're acting differently, so something must have happened. If it wasn't meeting her, though, I have no idea what could change your actions this much."
"It is nothing important. M' mind strayed a bit is all." Sweden flinches ever so slightly, upset with himself for letting a word slip away from his careful enunciations. A single word isn't going to give him away though, right? He's worrying over nothing. England's eyes narrow ever so slightly, but there's no recognition behind them.
"What did it stray to that made you so solemn?" When there's no answer, he sighs. "Okay. I understand. Sometimes things can be hard. I will offer an ear when you have no duties if you ever wish to speak about it." Sweden glares hard at him.
"Jag do not need to. Och even if Jag did, why would I speak to du? Jag would go to someone Jag know, och someone on m' side." He slumps in the chair suddenly, and covers his face. No one is on his side. Not even Denmark, who promised to always be there when Sweden needs him, especially after what he did. He brings his other hand up to the side of his head. The external injury healed a long time ago, but the internal damage is still there. It will always be there. He's mostly forgiven Denmark for it, though it's still hard sometimes, but he doesn't think he'll ever forgive Finland now. Finland got out that night without a single scratch on him. Sweden had been so happy for that, even after learning his speech is impedimented forever. It gives him strong headaches to try and speak properly, and he can never do it for very long. He clinches his jaw. Finland, who got out without any injuries because Sweden loved him. Finland, who said all those hurtful things a few days ago. Finland, who has the other Nordics convinced Sweden had him under the influence of captivity until he said those things. Finland, who Sweden is still very much in love with, and completely destroyed over. His shoulders start to shake, and he rushes to stand. He has to leave before he breaks down again!
England grabs his arm forcefully, pulling him out of his head. He's saying something, and probably has been, but Sweden can't focus. He needs out! He yanks his arm away and practically runs for the door. To his surprise, he winds up on the floor, the air knocked out of him. He tries to stand again, but his feet won't separate. It takes England tugging him closer from above to realize the pirate must have lassoed him. He blinks rapidly, clearing away his unshed tears quickly. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? You can't just shut down, and expect someone not to worry! Especially when you come back and start running! What the fook is wrong!? Tell me! That's an order." Sweden takes a deep, shaky breath, and prepares himself for an incredibly painful headache.
"Jag love someone. They... Recently told me they never loved me, despite being together for a long time. They have convinced everyone in m' family Jag held them captive och inadvertently made them love me. They said they were a victim of false feelings. Jag would never!" His shoulders start to shake again. He closes his eyes tightly so he doesn't cry in front of England. He's seen the effects of that up close. It's a horrible thing he hates the existence of. The other Nordics know that! Why do they believe Finland!? England clicks his tongue.
"Open your eyes." Sweden reluctantly opens them, upset with himself for showing so much emotion. England pulls him into a sitting position and kneels in front of him. "Now it makes more sense why you're here and so defiant. No one here knows, so they can't have an opinion on the matter. You were also hoping to be too busy with work to think about this, correct?" He nods ever so slightly in answer. "But sending you off to work had the opposite effect." He stands with a grunt, and stretches himself out a bit. "Rest for today. I aim to keep my crew happy. I will think of something to do just that by tomorrow. You won't be getting out of it, so don't anger me by trying to. You can untie yourself, I assume? The couch is yours." He motions toward it dismissively, then leaves the room. Sweden lets out a heavy sigh, undoes the knot around his ankles, and makes his way over to the couch. He sinks into the cushions and closes his eyes tightly. His head really hurts! After a moment, his eyes snap open, a thought in his head. They fall on his cloak, still where England placed it on the dresser. He shrugs, walks over to it, and wraps it back around his shoulders. Even if it angers England, he needs the comfort of a time where he was stronger. Both emotionally and physically.