A/N: Hello and welcome. I'm a little self-conscious about putting this story up on here, so reviews (especially constructive critasism) will be welcomed and loved. If you have any questions, I'm more than happy to answer them in a review reply. I suppose it's only fair to warn you that as this is a Next Generation story, there will be hints of romance between canon characters, though, of course, that isn't the focus of this story. I hope that if there's a pairing in this that you don't like that it doesn't put you off too much.

The rating system on this place confuses the hell out of me, but as there is some swearing and violence in this, I playe dit safe and went for 'T', if you think that's too much/too little, let me know in a review, because I haven't really got a clue.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. On with the story~

"OI! YOU LITTLE BRAT!"

The Marine's angry yelling echoed over the quiet coastal village. It had been a peaceful day, with a gentle breeze and a few light clouds scudding across the perfectly blue sky. That was, until a certain young girl got bored with the peace and decided that drawing graffiti all over the local Marine base would break the monotony nicely.

As she ran from her pursuer, the girl laughed. She was currently fourteen years old and, as she would tell anyone who would listen, now officially a woman. Her features were sharp and slightly impish, giving her a face that every teacher in the world would immediately peg as 'trouble-maker'. Not that they would be very far off at all. A grin spread across her face, lopsided and somewhat insane-looking. Her freckled cheeks dimpled, adding an element of cuteness to the mix that made her look even more like the mythical sprite of mischief.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she judged an upcoming corner. They were a soft dusky pink and sparkled with her intent to cause havoc and chaos. With the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her lips, she took the corner without slowing down at all, her flat-soled black boots skidding on the dirt track as she tried to avoid colliding with the wall. Her shoulder-length black hair whipped round before once again being tugged out behind her as she ran on. The wavy strands were held out of her eyes by a pair of old-fashioned goggles. The lenses were tinted blue and the frame was bronze and had a steam-punk style to it. Hanging by the left side of her face was a single thick strand of whiter hair, wavy like the rest, but completely colourless.

She rounded another corner, slipping into an alleyway so narrow that she nearly skinned her elbows on the wall. She wished she could pull the sleeves of her jacket down to cover the exposed flesh, but she didn't want to risk slowing herself down. The jacket was a dark indigo and thick, and would have served well in keeping her warm if she had bothered to zip it up. She'd left it open, however, showing off that she was wearing nothing underneath but a black bikini top. The bottom hem of the jacket didn't quite reach the bottom of her ribcage, and the sleeves, which should have covered her wrists, were shoved up to above her elbows. Below that, she wore royal blue shorts that were covered in pockets and zips and clung to the top third of her thighs, along with a violet belt.

The end of the alley came into sight after she rounded another corner, but she didn't slow. The solid brick wall raced up to meet her and she used the grip of her boots to plant one foot on it and launch herself upwards. Her fingers curled over the top of the wall and she heaved herself up without a pause. On the other side of the wall was a park and the girl dropped down onto the grass and sprinted for cover. She ducked under the branches of a willow tree, then darted among some thick, untamed bushes. Once she was sure the Marine wasn't going to find her, the girl flopped down onto the ground and allowed herself a quiet chuckle.

"Think you got away with that, don't you?"

The girl sat bolt upright at the voice, and looked around guiltily. She spotted the man who had spoken leaning against the trunk of a gnarled oak. He was chewing on the end of a cigar, the smoke of which was drifting slowly over his head. He narrowed his black eyes at her and waited for her to crack. She began chewing on her lip and tried not to feel guilty.

Eventually, the man sighed heavily and ran a hand through his short white hair. He pulled another cigar out of the holsters on his black leather jacket and dropped down to sit next to the girl. He stuck the second cigar into his mouth beside the first and pulled a lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. He lit his cigar, then passed the lighter to the girl without a word. She beamed, knowing this meant she was forgiven, and began playing with the lighter, allowing the flame to dance over her fingers and palm.

The man took a deep breath of the doubled cigar smoke, then sighed, the smoke streaming from his mouth. "I thought I told you not to draw attention to yourself here." He growled mildly, no longer angry but still highly annoyed.

Glancing up at him, the girl gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, Pops. I was just… I was sobored, and they had these cans of blue paint lying around out back, and I just-… I couldn't help myself. It was too tempting!" She gazed at him with imploring eyes, now coloured a faintly brownish grey in her guilt and apology.

Her pops sighed out another stream of cigar smoke into the air, and reached out to ruffle her hair. "You're so like your dad, Morgana… It's scary." He grumbled, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to lean it against the tree trunk.

The girl, Morgana, perked up at the mention of her other parent. She had always known that she had two fathers, but it wasn't until she was eight or nine that she realised that it wasn't only unusual, but often frowned upon. She'd never really understood why, but she figured most people were just cruel that way. She'd never met her dad, or if she had she couldn't remember, and her pops had told her once that he had died a little before her first birthday. She didn't know much more about him, only that she was a lot like him in both looks and personality. "What do you mean? Did he ever graffiti a Marine base?" She asked.

Her pops chuckled. "Not graffiti one, no, but I'm pretty sure he burned several down."

"He burnedthem down?" Morgana asked, shuffling forwards, her eyes fading back into a dusty, excited pink that was almost red. She knew that her love of fire probably wasn't healthy, but she didn't really care. Her pops nodded his confirmation, not opening his eyes. "Didn't you once say he was a pirate?" She asked curiously.

Nodding again, her pops slowly allowed the tension to seep out of his shoulders. "Yeah. He was." He said quietly, his voice low and slightly melancholy. "He set out to sea when he was seventeen, but I didn't meet him until nearly three years later." He told Morgana softly, and the young teen held her breath. Her pops had never willingly spoken about her dad before. He'd always avoided the subject, or told her he didn't want to talk about it. Now, it seemed, he was finally willing to share a little bit.

"Was he famous?" Morgana asked in a voice so quiet it was practically a whisper. She wanted to know if she'd ever seen his face before on old wanted posters or something. She thought she would have recognised him if she had, but she still hoped that her dad might have been one of those famous pirating names that everyone knew.

Her pops took a moment to answer, breathing more cigar smoke into the air. "Yeah, he was famous." He told her. "Very famous." He added slightly bitterly. Morgana frowned at the tone, but didn't ask about it, afraid of her pops clamming up again. There was a long silence between them, as Morgana waited for more info, and her pops drifted with his thoughts. "He had eaten the Mera-Mera fruit." He said suddenly. That was new. Morgana looked at her pops with raised eyebrows. She wracked her brains, trying to remember an old pirate who had eaten the Mera-Mera fruit, but her brain came up blank. "That's the reason for…" Her pops had opened one eye and gestured to her hand. Morgana looked down and started when she realised she'd had the lighter on the whole time, with the tip of her middle finger resting in the flame.

"Oh." Morgana nodded, and smiled. She had been fireproof for as long as she could remember, and when she had been small enough to fit, had often been found sleeping curled up in fireplaces. She'd never really thought about why, but it sort of made sense if her dad had been pretty much made of fire. "Was he a Captain?" She asked curiously.

"No." Her pops answered at once. "He started off that way, but he joined the Whitebeard Pirates a couple of years before I met him." Morgana's eyes went wide. Her dad really had been big. If he was famous even among the masses that were the Whitebeard Pirates, then he had to have been a formidable opponent.

All of a sudden, Morgana found herself smiling. "I'd have loved to see the two of you fight." She told her pops in a warm voice.

To her surprise, he laughed. "It really was something to see." He agreed. "We could never land a hit on each other, both being Logia users, but… It was one of the few times I really felt alive." He smiled nostalgically and tipped his head back to blow a stream of smoke into the sky. "Once or twice we agreed to spar without powers, and it was… incredible."

Morgana couldn't help but smirk. "I'll bet." She answered, and when her pops turned to look at her with a frown on his face, she wiggled her eyebrows at him. To her eternal amusement, her pops' face went scarlet and he turned away, grumbling around his cigars. She fell sideways to lean against the tree trunk and cackled at her pops embarrassment.

"Watch it." Her pops grumbled, but she knew he didn't really mean it. She could always tell when her pops was being serious and when he was just uncomfortable, like he was now.

"Watch what?" She asked innocently, causing her pops to roll his eyes. She grinned and leaned more comfortably against the tree trunk, relaxing as she mulled over what she had just been told. Her pops smoked his way through another two sets of double cigars before either of them spoke again. "What was his name?" She asked quietly.

Her pops stilled, then sagged as if he'd just been doused in salt water. He sighed heavily, and Morgana caught a glimpse of a pained expression on his face before he turned his face back to the sky. "Portgas D. Ace." He said quietly.

There was a full minute of silence as Morgana reeled. She had heard of Portgas D. Ace. Who hadn't? He had been the catalyst for a war that had shaken the world to its core and had opened the way for the new era. There were several facts that she knew about her father that sent her head spinning, the first and foremost being the reason for his execution. His father, Morgana's grandfather, was none other than the first Pirate King, Gol D. Roger. Not to mention, Morgana thought as the shock began to settle, he was also the adopted brother of Straw Hat Luffy, the secondPirate King. Morgana giggled to herself. "I'm a Princess." She told her pops in a joking tone.

Her pops stared at her, then laughed loudly. "Typical." He grunted, sounding highly amused.

Morgana's mirth faded, however, as several other things slotted into place. "That's why you're always so insistent I don't draw attention to myself, isn't it?" She asked, and she saw her pops nod out of the corner of her eye. "And why we travel so much. You don't want to stay in one place too long in case a Marine veteran recognises me." Her pops nodded again.

"Ace was executed because of who his father was. It was wrong, but there was fuck all I could do about it. I don't want to be in that position ever again." He rumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

"You know what though…" Morgana began, feeling an odd mixture of sadness and delight welling up in her that was undoubtedly turning her eyes a very dark, greyish pink. "Imagine Seagull-head's face if he ever realised the bloodline of the first Pirate King was still alive." She heard her pops chuckle, and smiled. Morgana let her thoughts drift after that, and the more she thought, the less content she became. "Pops…" She said slowly, feeling a little hesitant to speak her mind.

"Yeah?" Her pops huffed the word out as if he knew what she was about to say and was resigned to hearing it.

Morgana sighed and began picking at the grass she was sat on. "I… I don't think I can keep running." She said quietly. "I know I'm still a kid, really, but… I don't want to live my life hiding from them. I'm proud of where I come from, and I'm not afraid of the Navy." She declared. She heard her pops huff out a sharp breath, but he didn't speak, so she carried on. "I-… I'm going to fight them with everything I have." She said quietly, resolve bleeding into her voice as her eyes turned a stormy grey in her fierce determination. "They have no right to decide whether I live or die, least of all because of my parents! I'm gonna provoke them until they're so pissed they won't know what to do with themselves." She added bitterly.

She expected her pops to yell at her, to tell her off for being reckless, but he did neither. He simply sighed again and continued to watch the clouds as he spoke in a slow, melancholy voice. "I knew you were going to say that. I knew from the time you stole my lighter when you were two that you were going to get yourself into deep shit." He paused to take a deep drag on his cigars, and when he spoke again, little puffs of smoke poured from his mouth with every word. "I won't stop you from doing whatever you want. It's your life, and no one else has the right to tell you how to live it, not even me. I'll stand by whatever you choose to do, and if you get yourself caught, I'll raise fucking hell to get you back."

It took Morgana a moment to fully process what her pops was saying, but once she had, she felt tears of gratitude stinging at the corners of her eyes. She sniffed them back and turned round to hung her pops as tightly as she could. "I love you, Pops." She mumbled, and when her pops arms came up to return the embrace, she felt a warm feeling of safety and contentment wash over her.

"But you've got to promise me one thing, Gana." Her pops continued as if she hadn't spoken, and she looked up at him, her eyes back to their usual chocolate brown in her contentment as she waited for her pops to speak. Her pops met her gaze and sighed, looking resigned. "At least wait until you're seventeen."

Morgana laughed, her eyes fading into a soft rosy pink. "I promise, Pops."