The Open Seas: The story of Columbia Jones (Hetalia)

[Chapter 15] Your Lady

(Still in dream memory, still pirates.) 

Three moths later.  

Columbia caught herself before she face planted into the deck, resisting the urge to glare at the Spanish pirate who had thrown her. She got to one knee, but kept her head down, and didn't move from there. Had it been three moths ago, she would have relied on her hair to shield her face, but she had cut it recently to make it easier to fight. 

Luckily, she was wearing a black masquerade mask to hide her identity. It's not like Captain Carriedo would know who she was anyway, but it was fun to hide her identity from others. She will admit her current situation is her own fault, but to be fair, she rarely had to fight in massive storms. 

She had fallen off the ship during a fight with the Spanish Butterfly, and it just seems that he picked her up before he left. She knows Gilbert is already on her trail, he's not letting one of his best pirates and possible future ally get away so easily. 

"Muestrame tu cara." (Show me your face.) 

Columbia giggled a little. 

"So the rumors are true then, you only speak Spanish on your ship?"

"¿Entonces has oído hablar de mí?" (so you've heard of me then?)

"You can't go two years with Gilbert and not hear about the infamous Bad Touch Trio, I hear you three were quite close before-"

"And it is likely we will be close after this. Rivalry between friends is impossible to avoid with lives as long as ours."

Columbia smirked, and Antonio motioned for his crew to leave them alone. The crew did as told, retreating below deck. 

"What happened to only Spanish?"

"Exceptions are made, every now and then."

They were silent for a bit, but then Antonio leaned forward and undid the mask's knot not eh back of her head. It fell the ground, and now all she had to do was look up, and her secret identity would be a secret no more. 

"So the rumors are true then..."

"What rumors?"

Antonio dared to ask, as he was entirely confused. 

"You are Spain, at least the personification of it."

As she said this, she found the tip of an axe under her shin, tilting her head up. She let it, and felt a bright smile take place on her face. At times, this was just so much fun. To be a personification that so few know, you can go anonymous in a community of immortals. She stared into the green eyes, and took in the his tan face. 

He kept his axe under chin as he tried to place where he could know her from. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not find a name to match her face. He narrowed his gaze, and asked the long awaited question. 

"Who are you?"

She smirked, and repeated her line from not so long ago. 

"Someone a hell of a lot like you." 

Two months later.  

"Are you really going to do this every time? I know you speak english, and Spanish." 

"Mi hai stretto un coltello al collo, ti aspetti che io sia gentile?" (You held a knife to my neck, do you expect me to be nice?)

Columbia shrugged, watching as the Italian move around the small kitchen aboard the ship. He had a nasty habit of pretending he spoke nothing but Italian, and only listened to the crews requests if they asked in Italian.