Ace hadn't been so full for days. Not since he had fought that one Sea King, and that was almost a whole week ago. The Grand Line was teeming with food near everywhere Ace turned, whether it was human, fish, or Sea King. Resources were endless if you knew where to look.

Granted, the Blues all had easy human pickings, but it took a decent patch of an island's population to sate his appetite. Enough of a population to bring notice. Enough to make enemies. (Enough to alert a Celestial Dragon. Ace should never have been allowed to grow up in the Blues–)

It was better to stay in the Grand Line. Human meat became a little more rare, with how much stronger even normal citizens were, but he was more than capable enough to take down a sizable leviathan in their stead. Ace was pretty sure the monsters were aware of him. Too long in one area, and Ace was struggling just to catch a movement in the dark. He had never thought Sea Kings were particularly smart, but they did a decent job of avoiding him during the day and Ace wasn't built for night hunting. He wasn't a deep-water Mer. Ace's eyes and colors were not built for the night– it usually was enough to rely on hunger luring one close enough to try and steal a bite. A ravenous meal was one that was dangerous, but so was Ace.

Now though, he didn't have to worry about that. Not for the moment at least. Whether the "official" status of the Whitebeard Crew was true or not, they made an amazingly endless meal ticket. By the time the Marines had tried to cut their losses and surrender, Ace was surrounded by an entire buffet of bleeding men. The water still smelled so good.

...A little too good. He knew once the sharks started drifting in that he'd need to leave before bigger leviathans showed up as well. One or two he could take on, but five? Seven? Ten?

The Whitebeard's ship was still anchored in place. Ace should have figured they wouldn't exactly need to worry about Sea Kings no matter the number. But Ace couldn't afford that sort of luxury, not without a pod of his own. Guess I'll be leaving them behind. He swam up to the hull. Somehow, it felt solemn to him. The wood was still so nice, wave-smoothed and vibrating with life under the sensitive membranes between his fingers. I... wouldn't mind seeing them again. If I eat this well, at least.

(He wouldn't mind if he saw Marco again. If he got to watch him soar. Even after Ace had eaten his fill he had hovered just under the surface, fins flared wide, to watch those sparkling blue flames barrel their way across the sky. He had never seen anything like it.)

Ace shook his head. His hand felt cold, his chest tight and empty as he hesitantly swam away from the ship. I'm not supposed to trust a pirate, even if these are... okay. Even if they were on the "official" list. Letting them see him, talking to them— wasn't that enough? Didn't it already take so much out of him? Didn't humans already take enough for him?

Ace hovered, swimming back and forth. He couldn't seem to pick a direction. Why was he so upset? Ace couldn't afford to keep getting distracted, he could pick up the faint vibrations of much larger monsters moving through the waters towards him.

Still gently treading, Ace needled at his lower lip carefully. He didn't want to leave so many bodies behind; that was another day's worth of food. With Ace's appetite, it was always best when he could take as much with him as possible, but that would mean he would drag the blood with him as well. A clear trail to follow. What if he got cornered on some shallow reefs? Then it was between the humans and the Sea Kings and that was just a choice between which monsters to sacrifice himself to—

A thin splash, both heftier and far more agile than any of the bodies. The kind of splash made by someone who had dived. Ace swung his head around, ear fins keenly flaring to catch the vibrations of a distinct swim pattern, one much more practiced, streamlined. Familiar, almost.

The first things he saw were teeth and gills.

Ace relaxed. "Hey there!" He clicked, waving. It unsettled him a little how easily he was relieved in the face of someone like him. Suddenly a little self-conscious, he plucked one of the bodies out of the current and held it out to the other. "Want any? I didn't know you were with them, I would have offered sooner." Insatiable he may be, Ace was nothing if not polite. It wasn't as if he could finish all of the marines in time anyway, and it never hurt to ask. Even if Fishmen didn't usually eat human flesh.

Ace was suddenly glad he hadn't gotten the chance to offer before. If he had carelessly shared, when his crew could hear… Ace had seen what happened to Fishmen who hadn't told their crew they also ate humans. "Official Protectors" did not guarantee that the Whitebeards would be fine with one of their own eating their species even if they were enemies.

"I'm okay," the man said, waving him off politely. "I've already eaten, but thank you. I'm Namur." Namur. The name whistled through him, gentle like a rolling undertow and Ace smiled. He liked it. Namur seemed happy to see this, for some reason. As if he could guess Ace's content— which was kind of weird, considering it was just a name and why would he look so sad for a name? "Are you alone out here? You're the first Mer we've seen for a while now, and the others were traveling in small pods for safety."

Normally such a question would be alarming. Even from a Fishman, Ace should be more than a little cautious. Asking if he was lone was a red flag– Hell, mentioning that they had seen other pods was a red flag. Who knew what context those reminders were in? Or maybe it was purposeful, a pointed ploy to make Ace more susceptible––

But this was a Fishman, one on Whitebeard's crew, and maybe Ace had been alone for a while now.

Months, Years, how long had it been? Even the rise and fall of the sun didn't seem to be enough, when all Ace had were brief stories from strangers overheard half-submerged in the dark, and memories of Sabo, and thoughts of his smallest brother. His little brother who had just been a fry when he left him around Dawn— who fended for himself just as easily as Ace but was reckless and stupid and maybe saw social nuances but decided they were too worthless to not befriend whatever random human he saw—

"I'm alone," he murmured. For a long time. Even in company, I feel so alone.

(He was fine with that, wasn't he?)

Namur was quiet for a moment. Ace fidgeted, claws flexing around the body forgotten in his hands. It had admittedly been a long time since he last interacted with anyone past eating them– and even longer since Ace had seen another Mer or Fishman. Very few like him were ever so close to the shallows now, especially in the upper half of the GrandLine as he was. It wasn't his fault that he was having trouble reading Namur. Besides, the man wasn't about to try and fight him. He wasn't a human, after all.

Lost in his thoughts, Ace missed Namur's next question.

"H-huh?"

"Will you come with us?" No preamble. Namur's face was set and still. He didn't react even as Ace wheeled back in shock, the body falling limply from his hands. No surprise, no anger, no startled grab for Ace. It was all that kept him from launching himself into deeper water. "...Just until you find a pod. Unless you want to hang around– you know we won't turn you away, right? All Merfolk are under Pops' protection." It was so matter-of-fact– almost like a reprimand. As if Ace was a child being scolded for not doing his chores, but with all the gentleness of something that made Ace distinctively– just– "The records of protection are official, you know. I've seen them myself."

Just what are you trying to convince me of?

"No, I don't think I will," Ace said carefully.

Namur just nodded at him. Ace stared as the Fishman turned back to the boat. Not a glance back, as if– no, there was no way Namur could see the way Ace's shoulders fell. Not the way his tail stuttered and stilled, not the way his fins relaxed.

Ace was alone. The anchor was already lifting. Namur– the entire crew had just blindly accepted Ace's rejection and didn't even ask why.

It was a risk just to remain in their waters no matter if a Fishman had vouched for them. Ace had seen what slavery could do to some people, maybe Namur had been goaded into trying to coax Ace up and out of the water. It had happened before. Desperation and pain could force someone to do anything. I don't know how Luffy does it, making as many human friends as he does.

(A wholly human crew. Or well... most of it. He had a reindeer, when Ace last checked in— a reindeer, a skeleton, a cyborg—)

(...Maybe his little brother wasn't actually the weirder one on that crew.)

Ace waited until he was gone before hastily gathering up everybody he could, wrapped tightly in a makeshift net of wet cloth and torn uniforms, and tore after the ship before it could leave him behind.

They didn't have to know he was there. As long as Ace swam under the hull, and ducked out of sight, the crew would never even be aware of him. Enough bodies would hit the water to keep Ace fed, with the strength and status of the crew. Anything they couldn't supply him with Ace could manage off any wandering fish and small Sea Kings. Maybe they'd even stop by a town. He hated singing, but it would work in a pinch.

They didn't need to know.

Ace told himself that it was just his stomach leading him forward.

Marco was excited.

His siblings kept casting him knowing little glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Marco wasn't even trying to stop them– not until Thatch very indiscreetly tried to slip half a fish down his shirt. Even that failed to dampen his mood.

For days now, every night, Marco could feel the little blip of an aura slowly drift up to the surface. It followed them effortlessly, swimming along the blindspot provided by the hull.

Ace wasn't very inconspicuous.

Marco doubted the Mer would be happy to know that Marco was keeping an eye on him, but a part of him was near worryingly giddy to know that the Merman had chosen to tail the Moby Dick. Any concerns he had kept about a vengeful Mer had faded very quickly. Call him biased, but Marco was pretty certain Ace wasn't about to start singing his brothers overboard. Not when he was dutifully avoiding any chance of them spotting him.

(Marco would not admit to having been lengthening his nightly flights, hoping that the fractured light of his feathers off the water would be enough to catch a glimpse of sunset orange.)

Surely Ace knew Marco could sense him? Surely he could feel it? Whitebeard himself had been careful not to probe, but all of Marco's siblings that could use haki was keeping an eye on the Mer. They were barely trying to hide it. He had thought that the continued disposal of bodies overboard would have been enough to clue Ace in.

...Apparently not. Then again, maybe Ace just didn't trust them enough yet.

That was fine. More than fine, really– Marco should have been happy that Ace wasn't naive or reckless enough to just cling to a crew of strangers no matter the reputation. It was a good sign. A trusting Mer couldn't be a free Mer. But damn, was it frustrating.

Marco had given up trying to pretend he wasn't very attracted to the leviathan under the floorboards.

How could he not? The phoenix wouldn't say he was easily led on, but a flash of those canines and a flick of fins and he was honestly considering the pros and cons of asking Ace to eat him if it meant he could see the Merman again. It was just a physical fascination. Marco was an older man and he wasn't about to admit he had so quickly garnered feelings for someone he had met only once. Maybe with time, but...

Marco absentmindedly kicked the shattered and bloodied remains of a Marine's gun off the deck, watching it splash far below him. The depths churned.

No flash of red, though Marco felt the aura under the ship rise inquisitively before drifting down again. It was like goading a wild animal closer. He would never say that, of course. Marco doubted Ace (or Namur, frankly) would be excited to hear Marco compare him to anything less than an absolute equal. It was just too sensitive a topic. Even if it was mostly true. Ace was less a puppy and more a monster, after all– but weren't they all?

A hand clapped Marco's back and he barely refrained from flickering up in blue even as his father's familiar touch cloaked him. He did still end up ducking a little. "You're looking a little starry-eyed, son."

The man was cackling. His captain was outright– "Pops," Marco hissed, low and long-suffering. Blood rushed up his cheeks as the presence he was still absentmindedly tracking wavered a little closer to the surface, drawn by their voices. "Pops," He said again, more hushed, "You should be in bed." Whitebeard's regulated bedtime was just under half an hour ago. Marco estimated he had maybe another handful of minutes before the nurses realized he was gone.

Whitebeard's answering pat to his shoulders was almost enough to pitch Marco overboard. His wings flared up, flapping to keep steady (and really now, did he haveto hit so hard–) and nearly falling anyway when his flames illuminated a flash of curious red in the ripples. Marco's eyes caught and held on those tantalizing little flickers of bright scales.

At his side, Whitebeard shot him a look positively treacherous. "You look... tired, son," He enunciated slowly, far louder than Marco needed– tone suspiciously restrained enough to make the phoenix freeze. "Maybe we should dock the old Moby at the next island. The 2nd division has been talking about restocking." Which was all bullshit, frankly. Whitebeard knew that Marco was more than fully aware of what they needed and when. What kind of flimsy excuse–

Whitebeard's eyes glittered. "Not to mention, We're in sore need of a party."

"Pops!" Marco glared. "We don't need a–!" Another flicker below, a slick fin rising out of the dark ocean. It instantly disappeared, Ace's presence sinking a little deeper, but with the way it circled just under the surface– Marco lowered his voice. "I don't want to pressure him," He grumbled. "You know that." They both knew that. The entire crew was all too aware of the kind of rift between species that had forced Namur into their family, and Fishman island under their flag.

Despite himself, he pushed his feathers back beneath his skin. Ace's image vanished back into the darkness. He was still there, Marco was certain. Treading just below the waves. Marco could almost imagine how he looked, face turned skyward and fins fanned wide, skin dotted with wavering moonlight that caught on his scales. If Marco transformed, would he see those grey eyes staring back?

The phoenix coughed out a chirp when his captain picked him up, curling newly minted claws around a broad forearm. "We will dock in three days, and celebrate at the mouth of an ocean river," He declared, voice gruff with amusement, "Make sure you know what to say when we do."

AN

It's been two months.

uhhh asdbjfhekns thanks for waiting lmfao. i really struggled to pull this out bc ive been so focused on other fandoms but im still working ;;

most likely two more chapters! stay tuned.

As always, you can find me over at my tumblr, Leviathiane