A/N: Just a drabble I wrote for Pirate!England and how I RP and what not. I apologize for grammar or spelling errors.
Reviews are always appreciated.

Blue, creamed white, gentle foam, fading shades of illustrious greens and secretive blue. Oh, that was the sea. That was the sea he adored. From the soft, gentle caress of a lightly, sky colored wave on the sides of the wooden boards of his ship, to the luminous, moody raging storms that could destroy his precious ship.


Upon first meetings, one might think the arrogant, yet strategic nature of the infamous Captain Kirkland would be one that would pyrotechnic. Oh, oh the world knew nothing of him. They new England, not Arthur Kirkland, or Captain Kirkland. They new his royals, his people, his history, but knew nothing of him. The world was virgin to the humanisms of nations, and oh so ignorant. His crew were even held in the innocence of mystery of Arthur's life before he became a suitor of the sea. All that could be brought to their attention was his foolish decision of trying to pay patron to his people in the Navy. Humans were selfish creatures— But he was one too. Yes, he was a nation, an embodiment of history, but he was human. He had faults, romances, pains, emotions, and the two legged beings that dotted his land knew nothing of it. There was a time when his foolish youth drove him to be faithful to only his monarch and only politics- But that was his fault, and his strength. He grew emotionally faster than any normal person should. But of course, he was not normal, he was a nation.

He'd grown tired of the games of greed that the countries had thrown themselves into over the New World, over land. Arthur, just Arthur, not England, grew sick of the madness and chaos that defined their society, their reasoning, their was a strong, stupidly brave, and blind to the arrogant ways of his people whom he was serving. It was then that Arthur Kirkland came alive and took over the soul the embodiment had taken from him and his humanistic ambitions and desires compelled him. He abandoned his post as nation, his post as a leader, his post as a toy of politics. He fled from the scene of patron to the country of England and he drove forth in his own ambitions to see, to explore, to rule, to taste blood, to hold a woman, to love, to hate, to be human.

The same things he so cowardly fled from was what he became. England stayed silent, merely just his conscious, but the old soul of England drove the body of Captain Kirkland to the shores of his home time and time again. Each time it was like a bitter sweet reunion of tainted affection. As if he met the one he loved time and time again- But it wasn't true love. It was like a pitied love that had been born of imprisonment. He was torn each time to go back to his sweetly calling Sea, or his old friend of war and the one that knew him well. Each time he boarded the wooden vessel, the Englishman had taken two roses, one of red and one of white, and left him where he had stood. The red was for love and endearment of his land and people, while the white was remembrance- For he would never forgot the memories that brought him smiles and tears. Each time, the waves of the sea welcomes him back with soft kisses of water droplets on his scared skin, while the trees would wave to him in vain goodbyes and their leaves would float to him on the swirling breeze of the wind.

Oh, but the sea was something that captivated him. She had many suitors from all over the world- Her last favorite being the Spanish but their mother, the sun, was no friend to her blue waves and now Arthur was her prime lover. He'd grown to know the moon well, for it was the friend of the sea and brother of the sun and knew the earth far better than either the sea or the sun. The mood could rile the moody heart of his dear waves into vicious attacks, of sweet lullabies of affection. It's pale, white surfaces shined with wisdom and modesty and he knew that with the drop of a gold coin, the ruler of the elements could sentence his victims to hell. For that, he honored each deity of the Earth and he made no move to harm them. He gave his precious love many gifts, sinking ships into her depths and presenting her with presents of roses and tokens of affection to keep her happy.

There were times when she was not satisfied with his gifts and her rage would soon rumble the ambitions of the moon while the sun slept innocently. The pair would attack him until tired and he would thank them for sparing him, but he would morn his lost crew. They were his companions, and oh to loose them, was to loose himself. Again and again, he gave her presents of gold, bodies, monsters, ships, to appease her and keep her from taking his ship or his crew- or himself. His emerald colored eyes that Mother Earth had blessed him with would study the patterns of stars, and he would pick the honored creatures that hung in the diamonds of the sky and a smile would spread over his dry lips. Of course, the waves that lapped at his ship would call to him for his attention and his eyes would fall to her blue depths again, and his smile would soften to almost a childish content.

Oh, how he was pleased with them, and how he adored them. With her lullaby behind sung to him he retired to the Japanese silk sheets of his bed and he's sink into a peaceful slumber. Those were his young monster of greed that he had fled came hunting for him, and the beast found him. It gave birth to a craving for violence, conquest, possessiveness, and a primitive thirst for blood. Captain Kirkland forgot his love for the stars and sea, And slowly his amount of gifts lessened, the seas became rougher each night but the pirate shrugged it off each night. His mistress of jealousy and might grew angry with his lazy amount of attention given to her and he grew not to be care— He he was just another one of them.

The dark beast of greed was now his companion and he kept the stores of gold and riches to himself and the only gifts he gave to the watery depths was mangled and tortured bodies. Each present of flesh grew more and more hideous, some of which had their faces melted or burned, others were just butchered meat, and their sick blood burned her blue waves.

One night, her patron of silver that was keeper of the sky rose with her, and the violent rage woke. There was no England anymore. That soul had been abandoned and was now hanging limb like a dead body in the pale flesh of Arthur's own body. The sweet blues were deep, treacherous navy blues that were rimmed with white, foam fangs and they rose in battles of hatred over who was to attack the wooden vessel first. Finally, one of the savage waves struck and the simple ship was flung into a sideways tilt, men bellowing out screams of alarm as the mistress of Arthur attacked them. The sea hated the greed. She hated it all. She hated humans. There times when she was kind to them, or just ignored them, but she had come to adore her self proclaimed King. But her King was not her King, she wanted her Arthur, not a Captain of seafaring war.

She battered the men and ship that had distracted him from her, sending forth more and more rage filled water hounds given to her by the moon and slammed upon the foolish ship. None of them were satisfying her. In a mad fury of hellish fury, a larger beast rose and the blue wave struck the long wooden sails and snapped the structures. In turn, the ship gave a shrill shriek of pain and the cloth covered wooden pole toppled over, and the ship dealt a heavy blow to itself. The Captain became battered with on slaughters of water and his eardrum was struck with the frightened screams of agony that would drown out.

His gloved hands grappled desperately onto rails and splintered boards. The ship tried to withstand the hell battle of jealousy and pain, but it grew tired. Oh so tired. With soft whimpers of creaking wood, the ship gave in and it began to sink. The north end sunk heavily into the depths and the ocean seemed to give a soft squeal of joy at it's conquest. The Captain's mind gave burned cries of rage and confusion mixed with fear that clouded his voice like a heavy fog. Oh, but an inward battle grew on and suddenly, the slumbering and ill embodiment Arthur shot to his mind and the savagery of Captain Kirkland subdued. His wild eyes changed into soft, bright orbs and he stared in bewilderment of the drowing chaos around him.

I'm reaching for the life within me
How could one man stop his ending?
I thought of just your faceRelaxed and floated into Space
I want to swim away but don't know how
Sometimes it feels just like I'm fallin' in the Ocean
Let the waves up, take me down
Let the Hurricane set in motion
Let the Rain of what I feel right now come down

His feeble, humanistic attempts to cling to life left his conscious and his lips parted in a quiet whisper "Sorry, my love…" was all he murmured. The gloved had that was stuck to the wooden rails of his ship began to loosen. His sea had wanted him, not a beast of greed, or disgusting bodies of torture. His body relaxed, and his eye lids slipped closed. Yes, if his love wanted him, she could have him. As his body feel, it crashed violently into the watery depths, and as his body hit the surface, the raging waves began to calm, just in time for the moon's sister to wake and tend to the morning world. His body sunk and his lungs burned, and he human instincts panicked, but the desires were tamed and his body relaxed,the only image in his head, the sight of the sun glittering on the surface of soft blues and light blues that would compliment the sight of his mistress.

Yes. That was a calming image.
And I nice thought to lie in rest to.

Oh, but that was his end. It was the end of Captain Kirkland and the adventures of Arthur came to a close, but England was preserved. As he had been so kind to the Earth and Sea, his body was drifted back to the shores of England. There, his paled and scared skin was laid gently onto the damp sands, but England still slept. Of course, he needed rest. The Sea sung to him his favorite lullaby and the breeze and soft rain welcomed him back, falling from gray clouds to kiss him sweetly. The sun peeked quietly through the clouds and the moon slept below, knowing of what was happening to their friend, England. As the sea licked at his boots and sun to him, he rested, though the salty waters did not dampen or touch the pile of red and white roses that rested beside their England.

The red roses of affection for England and the young Arthur.
The white in remembrance of the lonely and corrupted human, Captain Kirkland.