Genre: Romance/Supernatural
Rating: M for Adult Situations, Language and Violence
Warnings: M/M Yaoi
Pairings: Ace x Luffy
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to One Piece or its characters. But love is free and I am completely infatuated.
A/N:
For Masamoony.
Something that's been laying around lost in my files forever-and it would have stayed lost without a little nudge from a certain unicorn. To my lovely Moony, you rescued it from the abyss, so this is for you.
And I promise to post everything, warts and all.
~MM
X X X
His life—began with death.
In the earlier hours, before dawn, his mother had given birth, and soon thereafter, died. The young woman, though very beautiful, had never been married, and refused to confess the name of any lover, leaving the child's father a mystery. It had been quite the scandal, and had led to her own father disinheriting her, resulting in 'Rouge Portgas' becoming just 'Rouge'.
The elderly midwife cradled the orphaned babe, still wet, and swathed him in blankets. She was concerned by his silence, (by her experience, most babes cried out upon entering the world) and though he was outwardly healthy, she began to worry that something was wrong.
She tried gently bouncing him. "Come on now."
"What's wrong?" asked the village priest, who was there to perform last rites for poor Rouge.
"The babe won't cry."
"Give him a pinch, that'll get those lungs going."
The midwife frowned, but did as he suggested; it worked, the boy howled and began squirming. Suddenly two things happened, nearly resulting in the woman dropping the wriggling child: the fire in the hearth roared to life, in an explosive wave of heat, and all of the candles in the room blazed into meter high pillars of flame. The woman shrieked, twisting around to shield the infant, who wailed even louder. The fires in the room expanded until the heat was unbearable, the light was blinding and seemed to pulsate—like a beating heart—in junction with the cries of the babe.
The priest, having made the connection, shouted: "Silence the boy!"
The trembling woman gently shushed the infant, rocking him, slowly he began to settle and with the easing of his cries—the flames began to recede. Slowly things died down, until the fire in the hearth was barely more than embers, and the flames of the candles were returned to meager wisps.
Once again, the child was silent.
The midwife looked worriedly between the boy, the fire, and the priest, horribly confused.
"What in heaven's name?"
The priest frowned, and approached her. "Not quite…" Careful, as to not disturb the child, he reached up and lightly lifted one of his eye lids.
Even in the dying light, it was easy to see, that the infant's eyes were not newborn blue—but scarlet red.
The midwife jerked and almost released him then, but the priest held her still. "No, don't!" he hissed. "You mustn't drop it."
It … not him …
Because it was obvious, that it— wasn't human.
"It's a demon!" the woman cried, more disturbed now than she'd been when the room was nearly ablaze.
"Yes—but not just a demon. Look how the flames were drawn to his cries, it's obviously an elemental." It was obvious by the woman's expression that she still wanted to let go. "Elemental's have a covenant with nature; to bring harm to one is to evoke the fury of nature itself!"
The woman's features grew impossibly paler, but at least she no longer looked like she was going to drop the boy. "What do we do with it?" For surely they must get rid of it—it was an abomination.
"Rouge must have ventured into the vale," he said. That land was crawling with all manner of beasts and hell-spawn. "She must have been bewitched." The man grimaced at the child. "Take it out deep into the forest and leave it there. If it does not die directly by our hands, then we shall be spared this demon's curse."
The woman nodded.
.
.
.
.
.
X X X
Only hours old, already feared and hated, the child was left alone to perish deep within the wilderness. If he'd been any other creature, surely he would have died.
But as the priest said…
He was an elemental.
Thus, the elements themselves embraced him…
.
.
.
.
.
And so he grew, and eventually, he learned to speak. Turning to the flames that had nurtured him he asked: "If you are fire, then who am I?"
The flames leapt, he heard their laughter. "You are also fire," they replied. "—but you are also Ace."
"What's an 'Ace'?" asked the young boy.
"Ace is the name your mother whispered to us while she carried you," the fire replied, dreamily.
"I have a mother?" the boy asked, eyes widening. "Where is she?"
"She is dead," the fire sighed, flames shrinking as if greatly saddened.
The boy's expression fell. "Then… I don't have a mother."
The flames hesitated. "…No."
"I have no one…"
The fire did not respond.
The boy drew his legs to his chest, arms circling around them, chin rested against his knees.
"I am alone," the boy, Ace, frowned. The fire expanded in a massive wave until the small boy's entire body was enveloped in a blistering, red hot inferno.
Only the flames did not burn him. Not a hair was singed. The boy sighed as the fire soothed itself against his skin, cradling him. Comforting him.
The corners of Ace's mouth curved.
"No, not alone," the fire insisted, solemnly. "— never alone."