So I haven't written anything in a very long time and I have never put this much work into an OC. There is backstory, as that is what this story begins with, but I'm not completely sure how I'm gonna include it in future chapters. Either just flashback chapters or bits and pieces of the story being mentioned when it's appropriate. Let me know what you would prefer. Also, if you dislike the formatting or anything please tell me. I've never been great at formatting and I've never uploaded here before so it might be a bit wonky. Apart from that, enjoy!
(Also, this made me realize how unclear timeframes are in One Piece like damn Oda, damn.)


Her first memories were of fire and screams. The little autumn island on the Grandline had been peaceful before, but since Gol D. Rogers' execution that was no longer the case.
Lia had been born into the golden age of pirates, as more and more decided to take the King up on his word and set out to find the One Piece, chasing a dream that would mean death for most of them.
Despite that, the island had been faring well. Ships didn't dock there often and the pirates that did weren't too rowdy. But one incident can be all it takes.

The girl was crying and clutching to her mother's dress. As vivid as the memory was, she could not remember her face. Nor her laugh. Everything about her mother was clouded by the harsh shadows created by fire and screams and attacking pirates.
She was five at the time, tall for her age with red hair and bright eyes. The fire made her hair flicker like a flame itself, and even as she was crying over her mother's body, irrationally trying to get her to move - get up, leave, help her - she knew she had to run or she would die too.
A strange thought for a child it seems but her instinct was screaming at her to stay alive and staying here, clinging to the lifeless shell of the most important person in her life wouldn't help her with that. She lifted her head and sniffed, snot mixing with tears, and shakily got to her feet. She didn't look down again certain that if she did, she would stay.

Little feet in boots carried her through the burning village, toward the sea. She had always loved it, the way it smelled, the way the moon reflected off it on clear, albeit often chilly, nights.
Not today, though. Today it seemed to be on fire like the rest of her precious little world.

There was only one ship docking in port, it's gangplank lowered. It was an ugly thing made of dark wood, a grotesque figurehead illuminated by the flames of burning houses throwing sharp shadows and making it look like a monster ready to swallow her whole.
Her steps faltered as she looked up to the sails and saw a Jolly Roger proudly grinning down at her. She had nowhere else to go but she couldn't go onto the ship of the very pirates that were currently pillaging and destroying her village. The people who had smashed her world into pieces.
But where else would she go? Hide on the island and come back to the village once the pirates were gone? If she was the only one left, she wouldn't survive long.

The little girl gathered all the courage she could muster and carefully crawled up the gangplank, looking around the deck to see if some pirates had stayed behind. To her the deck seemed huge. Stretching on and on, only interrupted by the main mast. Ships were strange, so big and heavy and yet staying afloat, but she didn't linger on the thoughts and looked around. Where would she go? She looked up at the main mast and the crow's nest but quickly disregarded the idea.

Her mother had told her about ships before, the basic layout of them, things a five-year-old could understand and not get too bored by. She remembered that ships stayed out at sea for long periods of time, needing a supply of food and drinking water so it's crew would survive the voyage.
The safest hiding spot would be the storage, especially on a ship this big and her being this small she would be able to easily hide. Spotting a wooden grate, the girl ran over to it and peered down.
Was this the right spot? She looked toward the doors on the other side of the deck.
She had no idea where they would lead so she looked down again. The spaces in between the planks were just big enough for her to fit through so she made up her mind.
Sitting down on the side of the grate she peered into the darkness below and let herself fall through the gap.


"What the hell are you doing here?!" A rough voice scared Lia from her nightmare. Even though the incident, she could not refer to it as anything else, took place almost a decade ago she still dreamt of it.

The scrawny 14-year-old stared up at the person who had woken her.
Stupid, she thought.
She should have been more careful and hidden better. Usually she was good at hearing people coming and hiding somewhere else so that she wouldn't be found.
But she hadn't been feeling well since the last island, the one where she had entered this ship, and had come down with something. That's why she hadn't been able to focus on her surroundings properly, a stupid mistake.
The pirate grabbed her by the front of her shirt and easily lifted her up. While she had once been taller than average for her age, she was now a lot shorter than a 14-year-old should be.
Her scrawny frame and sharp face made it obvious she didn't get the nutrition she should but when travelling while hiding on ships it was often hard to eat even once a day.
While the pirate seemed angry at her hiding away on his crew's ship, he hadn't just pulled out a knife or gun and killed her to be rid of her.
"Fuck off!" she yelled and tried to wiggle out of his grip, although it was obviously for naught.
The difference in size and weight was too big and she wasn't more than a slight annoyance to the pirate. Even if she had escaped this one, there were several hundred more and they were out at sea.

There was nowhere to run. Logically she should stay still and preserve energy but she wouldn't go down without putting up a fight.
As the pirate tossed her over his shoulder, essentially treating her like a sack of potatoes, she tried to kick him in the face or at least bite him, but she couldn't reach.

Suddenly brightness blinded her and she squeezed her eyes shut. The headache she had been dealing with for days exploded as her eyes were exposed to the light and went from a dull throbbing to a full-blown stabbing.
It didn't help matters much when she was unceremoniously dropped onto deck but she forced herself to push the pain aside and got back on her feet.
Like hell she was going to face her doom while lying on the ground like a kicked puppy.

"Pops, I found a stowaway." The pirate who had found her seemed annoyed at the idea of someone being stupid enough to try to hide on a Yonko's ship.
He pointed at her the way one might point at a bug or a spider that was there but they didn't want to squish because then bug guts wouldn't be stuck to the wall forever.

"Gurarara, that hasn't happened in a while! Gurararara!" Whitebeard grinned down at the peculiar scene before him. What he said was true, before he was a Yonko and before Rogers' execution stowaways could be found on their ship every couple weeks.
Some just wanted to get to a different island, some were intrigued by him and some were stupid enough to not only stowaway on his ship but also challenge him after.
As his reputation rose and he became more well known, nobody was fool enough to attempt that again. Except for this scrawny brat.
Said brat apparently wasn't happy over being laughed at and scowled up at him, which only made him laugh more.
Lia wanted to speak up and say something, tell him to shut up, at least say something so she wouldn't look like a fool, and had it been anybody else, she would have.
But now, standing in front of Whitebeard she couldn't do anything but grimace up at him.

Maybe choosing his ship had been a stupid idea. Maybe she hadn't calculated the risk properly. Out of the corner of her eye Lia saw that more people had come on deck, undoubtedly having heard the commotion, and wanting to see what was going on. Great.

"What do you want, brat?" Whitebeard addressed her directly and her attention immediately snapped back to him, her scowl deepening further.
"Don't call me that." Her voice seemed like a tiny, fragile bird compared to his bellowing and she clenched her teeth.
Still, she forced herself not to look away – until something caught her eye.
Whitebeard was still grinning at her, clearly amused, but what had caught her attention was the thing above his mouth.
"That's a fucking moustache," she thought aloud, frowning.
Half the crew sweat dropped while the others suddenly got a twitchy eye.
"Why WhiteBEARD then?!" She continued her musings but was interrupted by the Yonko's deafening laugh and Lia had trouble not losing her balance at the slight tremor that went over deck.
This was not an ideal situation to be in. A very odd one, but very much not ideal.
At least she wasn't dead yet.
That thought was quickly chased away as someone smacked her on the back of her head and she fell to her knees as pain exploded behind her eyes once more and a wave of nausea rolled over her.
She had reached out a hand to stop herself from faceplanting into the wooden floor and kept her head down as she panted, trying to get her bearings back.

"Way to hit a little girl, Marco! Good job!"

"Shut up, Thatch yoi! I didn't hit her that hard."

"And from behind no less! Shame on you!"

Marco turned around to look at the other commander, eye twitching in annoyance. He meant what he had said, he really hadn't hit her hard.
Deciding to ignore Thatch, he focused his eyes on the child again. To him, she looked like she could be no older than eleven.
Her arms were thin branches and he could see her shoulder blades sticking out through her shirt. That sure wasn't healthy.
With a sigh he leant against Oyaji's chair and watched the kid who was still squeezing her eyes shut. He didn't have to look up at Whitebeard to confirm he had the look, he had seen it on his face when the girl had first started speaking.

"Should I get her to the med bay, yoi?", he asked, looking up at his father.

"Gurarara! Get her something to eat, too! She needs it. I'll talk to the brat in a few days."

With yet another sigh Marco pushed away from the chair and, at least somewhat carefully, picked the kid up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking below deck.
Still grinning, Whitebeard took a swig of his sake. He had already made up his mind about the brat. She was scrawny and probably couldn't even throw a proper punch, but there were plenty of grown men who couldn't meet his eyes for even a second, while the brat had defiantly glared at him for several.
He didn't know if she even had any skills to begin with but there was a spark in her and he was certain that with enough training it would grow.