I thank you guys for all the views I've gotten on this story so far, as well as the favorites and follows!

{Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda, I just felt the need to include Rosalie into it. Lyrics belong to Nightwish and their song, "The Escapist" (which is totally a great song).}

[Edited: October 27th, 2016, because I didn't like it. And by "I didn't like it," I mean, it really wasn't good even with the second edit. So, here's my attempt to make it better.]


Chapter Six: More Marines, Oh Joy!


A blinding white light seemed to slip through the veil over the window, brightly illuminating the very area on and around Rosalie's face. Slowly, she came-to, realizing that something would end up rendering her almost completely blind if she didn't either get up or change her position immediately.

Grumbling slightly, she shifted her position in the hopes that the light would go away. However, halfway through shifting her position, she was hit with a wave of excruciating pain, paralyzing her from making any sort of movement from the top of her head to the base of her neck area. Hissing loudly, Rosalie opened her eyes, and began to take deep breaths, the pain making her feel a bit dizzy.

"I got hit in the head with that stupid branch," she mumbled aloud, cringing at every slight motion she made with her neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to massage her neck at a pathetic attempt to revive its ability to turn at will.

She realized she had no idea where she was, who hit her, or why they felt the need to take care of her after quite literally kidnapping her. The only thing she'd gotten from the room she was in was that the owner was extremely boring and obsessed with a certain color. Everything was white, from the walls, to the windows, to the pale white-tiled floor, garnished with a few white rugs. The bed was white, with a white comforter to boot. There was absolutely no differentiation whatsoever in the white either.

Rosalie closed her eyes, repulsed by the color scheme, or apparent lack thereof. "Well, they didn't take me off of the island, that's for sure. Otherwise, we'd have been on a boat by now." Even her voice echoed in the room. It was a living nightmare.

Slowly easing herself off of the mattress, Rosalie meandered to the window and saw she'd been put on an upper floor. Based on the pain currently throbbing in the back of her neck, Rosalie had no drive to jump out of the window, nor was she really prepared clothing-wise to head into the blizzard that had mounted over time.

She began to hum, thinking about a song lyric oddly fitting to the current chaos ensuing outside. Finally getting the rhythm in her head, she sang out her favorite verse:

Virgin snow beneath my feet / Painting the world in white / I tread my way / And lose myself into a tale

Rosalie smiled, happy she remembered how the song went. Anything that dealt with the snow and different stories made her happy. Her moment of peace was broken by a single question.

"So, I take it you can still sing, eh, Miss Cass?"

In fright, Rosalie flinched and turned around to see the man whom she assumed was her tree-branch wielding captor.

However, her rising wave of panic was not due to the fact a foreign man had taken her hostage and kept her in his home. Rather, it was the fact a familiar man had taken her hostage. She knew this man, and she'd known him for quite some time.

Rosalie had been taken by her uncle.


She'd grown up shorter than the rest of her family - her biological family. So, seeing her uncle in the doorway standing at a relatively tall seven feet with a head full of dark brown locks tied back into a ponytail, Rosalie had most certainly been caught off guard.

His dark brown eyes shined almost black, giving off the effect of pure darkness, as though the pools themselves were black holes. She shuddered and broke off direct eye contact, vowing only to look near his eyes, never at them. If anything, the only characteristic that would make her uncle seem like a marine would be his eyes.

"Well, seeing as you've decided to ignore the first question, I'll ask another. If I may be so bold as to ask about your not-so secretive life, why in the hell would you abandon my fellow marine and brother of sorts to run away with a pirate?"

At the mention of the word 'pirate,' he spat on the ground as though even uttering the word would give someone a disease. Rosalie rolled her eyes in disdain. The entire situation had truly blown up in her face and now even her biological family was beginning to take action. The fact Uncle Thomas was even living on Drum Island was enough to get the wheels in Rosalie's head to turn.

'There's just no possible way that he could have known that I was there. Someone informed him? Highly unlikely. Who simply waits around for two kids to come to an island covered in snow? The marines are ruthless.'

Shaking her head, Rosalie smirked. Giving in to his questions almost certainly meant defeat.

"Rosalie."

Ignoring his eyes, she began to look at the wall behind him, studying the pattern. Apparently, he enjoyed the shape of triangles as the entire wall portrayed some cascading isosceles triangle pattern intertwined at opposing vertices and switching between different shades of white.

"Rosalie!"

The door seemed to be pretty interesting, too. It also shared its own type of triangular pattern. However, despite the underlying artistic genius present in the room, Rosalie still felt that this obsession with colors and shapes made her uncle looked even more crazy than she already thought he was.

"Rosalie Catherine Cass!"

Mustering up the courage - as well as the annoyance - she looked her uncle dead in the eye. "You act like I'm some crazy, lunatic prisoner who needs to be put behind bars for finally emerging as the person she wants to be. Unlike other peoples' uncles who support them, and care about them, and oh, I don't know, check on their family members, because that's a totally normal thing to do, you just sit back and hide on Drum Island. What do you do the entire time, hate me? Hate my parents? Hate the fact that deep down everyone knew that I wasn't going to fulfill our family's idea of the 'perfect' person and join the Marines? Do you seriously despise me that much that you had to out of your way to hit me with whatever you hit me with just to feel better about yourself?! Did you honestly do that?"

Catching her breath, Rosalie realizes that despite how uncharacteristic that outburst was, it felt really good to speak her mind for once.

In a belligerent manner, Thomas angles himself as though he was going to smack Rosalie. Despite the fact her poor head is on the verge of another attack, she continues on.

"And why in the hell, literally why, would you even dare become a Marine? You had your own dreams, your own aspirations! You were different than a lot of them. How could you conform to the way the family behaves?! Just because you are a part of this family doesn't mean you have to be just like them. The beauty of human nature is to be yourself. We are all born with free will and the power to make our own choices. You following the elders is just like sheep to a shepherd. You weren't raised to be cattle and yet here we are. It's disgusting and unsettling."

Thomas stops whatever facial expression he was making as he watches Rosalie start shaking in anger. Carefully pinching his nose, he sighs, clearly unprepared for any back-talk from his niece. After having mentally thought out his words, Thomas sighs again.

"Rosalie, you endangered yourself and your father by running away from home. Working with a pirate is against the law, even you should know that. Your father almost lost his job because the higher-ups believed that he was conspiring with the enemy. While you're flouncing around who knows where with a boy you've only seen once, your father was trying to save his own skin."

Rosalie opened her mouth, "But that-"

"Let me finish. Your family, every single relative in the family from the time the World Government came together, has been in the Marines. Your family has had Admirals, Vice Admirals, Generals and the like since before you were even born. The prestige your family," he coughs realizing he was disclosing himself from the group, "our family has is unreal. Of course, my involvement in the family was going to equate to me joining the Marines. My former aspirations would have led to nothing. How would I have provided for my family? Your aunt understands that and respects my decision to become a Marine instead."

She thought about what her uncle said and realized she'd definitely not thought about all of the possible consequences to her leaving. She'd definitely thrown her father's role away without a second thought simply because she didn't agree with it. However, she wasn't just going to apologize. Sure, it wasn't the best thing to do to her adoptive father, but it was still better than suffering later in life.

Mulling over her thoughts, she failed to realize her uncle was almost out the door, which was seemingly bizarre enough seeing as they were in mid-debate mode.

"What do you want?"

Rosalie looked up, not following the current thread of conversation. "Wha-"

"I'm making myself breakfast; let's go."


"You remembered I liked my eggs sunny-side up?"

"'Course. You being the pickiest eater in the world had its perks. I can only ever remember what you ate when I had to suffer through cooking it for you."

Rosalie scoffed. "Well, you're the only one who listened whenever I complained about something I didn't like."

They'd both been sitting at a round table present in the corner of the kitchen. The table and chairs were shockingly not white in color, instead being made of an expensive wooding. Otherwise, the majority of the room was bare, save for a few family photos and kitchen necessities. Had she known better, Rosalie might have assumed that this home didn't even belong to her uncle - a thought that she wouldn't entirely put past her uncle either.

After eating for a few short moments in silence, Rosalie asks the most controversial question she could muster:

"So, when can I go back to Ace?"

Uncle chokes on his bacon and slams his fist onto the table, which inevitably rattles every dish on said table.

"You. Are. Not. Going. Back. To. That. Damn. Pirate. Do I make myself clear?"

Seemingly out of breath after broadly spacing out each word in that statement even going as far as to enunciate every syllable, he drinks a glass of water as though it's the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.

Rolling her eyes, Rosalie got up annoyed at his exaggerated reaction. Trapped, bored and undeniably too physically unwell to jump out the window at the moment, Rosalie decided to do the only logical thing she could do at that point in time: sleep.

"Your father called. He's coming to get you with a small fleet of Marines."

Groggily, she rubs her eyes open and gives her uncle a condescending look. "A small fleet of Marines needs to pick me up?"

"Rosalie, you broke the law, and from now on you'll work under your father as a Marine. We're not playing around anymore. You're seventeen and this is reality. Playing with pirates might be fun, but they're all going to get what's coming to them one day. Get up and get ready."

'They're all going to get what's coming to them one day.' Okay, but in all honesty, some pirates are too big, too great even for the best Marines to take on. There's no way that the Marines are going to dish out retributions to all of the pirates in the world.

Rosalie thought about the second part of what her uncle said and realized that if she didn't manage to slip away from her uncle's clutches anytime soon, she'd eventually be stuck under the lock and key of the marines for the rest of her life. Shuddering at the thought, Rosalie looked around in the hopes of finding something worthy enough to grant her escape. The only thing small enough to be thrown, but large enough to cause quite a bit of damage was a random white vase set in the middle of the side table, an intricate, hand-crafted doily resting beneath it.

'It's not the best solution, but it will have to do,' Rosalie thought as she quickly shot her right hand out to grab the handle. Thomas, clearly witnessing her attempt to attack him, reaches over to stop her progress; however, Rosalie had expected him to deflect her throw and kicked him square in the jaw - with a slight leap due to his height - and spun, grabbing the vase in the process, swiftly landing him a clean blow to the back of his head, shattering the poor vase into several pieces. She watches as his eyes close, his body flopping into a dejected, unconscious pile on the ground.

Feeling only partially confident in attacking her kidnapping, Rosalie ran out of the room after grabbing her shoes, and ran to the living room to gather her belongings.

There was only so much a person could take before they realized how different they were from their own family. Pensive, Rosalie put on her coat wondering why on earth her uncle even felt the need to behave the way he does without reward. He clearly was not on active duty, otherwise, he would certainly not be on Drum Island; the place had little-to-no activity to balance out the egregious amount of snow.

It just didn't make sense. Then again, almost nothing truly made sense to Rosalie anymore. For all she knew, Ace probably hated her, or at least scorned her for her immature, overly dependent tendencies. He'd probably be truly awed if she were to even find him, seeing as the more likely option would have been her death.

Rosalie sighed, cracked her knuckles and left the home. There was no use worrying about what would happen if she ever even found Ace.


The town was empty; that much was obvious to Rosalie. With near-freezing temperatures and high-speed winds, only the truly desperate, or perhaps insane, would dare walk outside, Rosalie falling into the former of the two. Looking around as well as she could, Rosalie failed to spot any indication that Ace was out and about. His trademark bright orange hat was nowhere in sight.

Dejectedly, Rosalie approaches a dumpling shop, deciding to satiate one of her desires. Taking some beli out from her pocket, she handed it to the man, a short, wiry fellow clearly pleased someone was giving him some form of money.

"I'll take, uh, three dumplings."

He smiles, happy to oblige her order. Handing her the dumplings, he analyzes her face.

"You're not from here, are ya?" He asks. His little silvery mustache bounces up and down after every syllable, giving Rosalie a strong desire to giggle.

Rosalie shook her head. "Just visiting."

"And you're lost I take it?"

Sighing, Rosalie nodded. "Naturally."

"And you're probably looking for someone?"

She gave the man a sharp look. Now, normally asking a foreign individual questions simply demonstrates good-natured curiosity. However, these questions seemed to have diverted from the path of normal curiosity and become rather pointedly specific. Rosalie gave him a slow nod, realizing she probably overstayed her time with the man.

"Well, thank you for the dumplings. I really must be -"

"A man with a black coat and an orange hat came through asking if someone he'd described to look just like you had come in," the man laughed. "Kids these days, I swear. Always in a hurry; always so paranoid." He continued to smirk to himself, probably reminiscing about a time long gone in his mind. However, Rosalie had zoned out, her mind reeling at the prospect that not only had Ace not gone and left her, he'd even attempted to look for her! She smiled, her heart fluttering knowing that someone genuinely seemed to care about her well-being.

Excitedly, she blurted out, "Where?! Which way did he go?"

He laughs aloud again, clearly enjoying Rosalie's drastic change of emotions. Reaching behind him, he pulls out a small notepad and writes down simplistic, clear cut directions as to where Ace went. Eagerly, she grabbed the paper, thanked him for his kindness, and proceeded to leave. However, just before she left, the man called out to her.

"Miss?" She looked back at the old man. "You'll find him," he said with a genuine grin plastered to his face. "You kids, you always do."


Turns out, while Rosalie was fending off her captor, Ace had been living lavishly in a quaint inn just down the road from the dumpling shop. She shook her head in mock annoyance; Thomas did have a nice place. He just failed to meet the 'nice guy' mark.

Entering the inn, she began to look around the main hall, adequately lit and carpeted with a clear indication that the heat was on. Happy to feel the warmth slowly make its way to her frozen limbs, Rosalie sought to find an individual who knew what they were doing. It just so happened that her search was almost unnecessary; she found a woman behind an ornate mahogany desk. Skipping up to her desk, Rosalie spluttered out a set of rapid inquiries, many relating to whether or not she had seen a boy around her age wearing a long black trench coat and an extremely vibrant orange hat.

Giving the woman a slight break to comprehend all of the information Rosalie had just thrown at her, she fiddled with a button on her jacket. Picking at her clothing in certain situations seemed to calm Rosalie down, at least enough to slow her heartbeat. With a slight tilt to her head, it became rather obvious that the woman was deep in thought, attempting to recount any and all individuals that entered the inn. Or at least, that was what Rosalie supposed as she watched the woman's forehead scrunch in a pensive gesture.

After a few moments, the woman relents. Finally she says, "I've seen him."

Rosalie smiled, happy she'd been able to relocate her traveling mate. However, she realized the woman had stopped talking again, leaving the discussion with the vague comment.

Rosalie waited a few moments more before she decided the woman was in no mood to offer any more information without some prodding. "So, where is he?" she inquired snippily, annoyed she had to pry the information from the woman's mouth.

She looks up again, mouth slightly agape at her tone. "Erm, sorry, I think he was in the dining hall. They just finished serving so check the upper halls and staircases, I guess."

Rosalie rolled her eyes at the uncaring, monotone statement. She clearly placed little value on her current career.

Thanking her, even though any form of thanks was not truly earned, Rosalie began to turn around the left corner, one closer to the desk. There, in her peripheral line of sight, was Ace, slowly ascending the stairs.

Failing to hide any form of excitement, Rosalie ran up to Ace, repeating his name over and over again while slowly raising the decibel of each utterance.

"Ace, Ace, Ace, Ace!"

He gradually turned towards her, knowing fully well who was calling his name. With a broad grin, Ace pulled Rosalie into one of the most spine-shattering hugs to ever grace the planet.

Without letting her go, Ace began to speak. "I thought you died in the cold, Rosie. You just literally vanished into thin air. That so wasn't cool." He rubs the back of his head, clearly attempting to try and understand how a storm could make someone completely disappear.

Rosalie smiles, pleased to see nothing had changed, even with the previous strain on their relationship. However, her smile slowly faded as she recalled all that happened while he sought after her. Recounting the events aloud, Rosalie realized the two were in hot water with the marines vowing to eventually catch her and all.

Contrary to her belief that he would be concerned, Ace just shrugs it off.

"Ace, this is serious news! We're wanted! Well, me more so than you, but still." She couldn't understand how he always had such a calm and complacent attitude towards everything he encountered.

"You said you knocked your uncle out with a small vase?"

Rosalie tilted her head, not following his train of thought.

Knowing she was confused, Ace smiled, and continued, "The marines can't be that strong if all we need is a vase and a clear shot to the head." He laughed at his own comment. "Rosalie, don't you fret. There's no reason to fear the marines."

"But Ace -"

"You're a pirate now. Their rules no longer apply to you. You're free."


A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer than my other ones, and hopefully much better than it was.

Review, if you'd like.