Summary:
Zoro the executioner runs away with Nami after freeing her from her execution. When she convinces him she was falsely accused, they set off to find who had actually committed the crime.
A/N: I know I usually post LuNa fics, but this is something I've been working on for a while now and am really happy with how it came out. Please enjoy!
Chapter 1: Execution Escape
The guards in uniform walked into her rusty cell, the worn metal cage door awkwardly squeaking as it swung open. They stared down at the dirty, fatigued figure in the corner of the cold lockup.
"It is time," one of the guards coldly stated. The woman in the corner tilted her head up, only sparing a weak glare in acknowledgement. The two guards looked at each other and nodded in sync. Their boots loudly hit the ground with each step echoing through the tunnel-like quod. They shuffled behind her, grabbing her by the coarse restraints that left rashes and small cuts on her wrists.
With a grip on her makeshift handcuffs, they led her down a long hallway. The brick path dirtied the woman's already cold and bare feet. There were rows and rows of cages on either side, most filled with gawking prisoners who mocked the soon-to-be cadaver. Even after leaving the tunnel with cages, they continued on their plod, the restrained woman just barely keeping up with the quick pace of the sentries. Outside the closed off burrow, the air was cold. The wind blew the captive's long orange hair and torn dress and chilled her arms and face.
A tumultuous crowd of people could be heard in the distance. And wherever the guards were taking her, she knew that by the increasing volume, she would soon meet the barbaric audience.
After a few more minutes of walking through the frigid and partially empty streets, they found themselves at a wooden scaffold. The crowd of villagers at the scaffold were all cheering noisily, each yell lost in the wave of loud hollers. Her eyes widened when falling onto the top of the scaffold. Everything was prepared.
The redhead's legs felt as if they could buckle at any moment, but she kept moving, courtesy of the guards pushing her along. As they neared the 'stage', she noticed the executioner waiting patiently. He stood tall with his shiny axe hanging over his shoulder. From where she was, she couldn't even see a drop of blood on the metal blade.
Every second was another step closer to her brutal fate, and it seemed she was only a short staircase away from meeting it. She swallowed nervously. It stung painfully seeing as how not even a single drop of water, or even saliva, had traveled down her throat in a whole twelve days.
They led her towards the side, leading towards a very short staircase, containing three short steps. She noted that leaning on the scaffold were three swords, each sheathed in different colored scabbards. It was an odd sight to see, but she could only linger on the thought for a millisecond. The redhead was sure that her footsteps weren't as loud as she imagined them to be, but at that moment when all she could focus on was the noise her own body made, her rapid heartbeat, her quiet footsteps, the silent sound of her hair dancing in the wind, even with the loud crowd and their deafening yells practically right next to her.
The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and the wind was just as persistent as the crowd.
As she walked closer to the other side of the scaffold, she stopped suddenly. She stared at the executioner; the man who would bring an end to her life. He wore a pair of tight black pants and black leather boots. His shirt was a mere tight dark cloth, the arm holes much larger than need be, his torso, rippling with muscles from years of endless training, prominently showed beneath the skin tight fabric. A black cloth was tied high on his left arm, knotted tightly over the large muscle. Of course, he wore the basic, baggy black hood that hid everything, the exception being the small slits where his dark eyes- or rather eye- peeked out from another, much larger incision, showing off his rather uninterested frown.
The inspection only lasted three seconds, tops, because she was soon rushed by the two guards. The ones that had led her the whole way.
As she was just about to be dragged up the stairs and onto the platform, she forcefully nudged the man on her right, forcing him to momentarily lose his grip on his prisoner as he stumbled away. Wiggling about, in an attempt to loosen the rope on her wrists as well as the other guards grip, her face grimaced with each painful tug on her restraints yet she still resisted.
Even as she was being pushed around, her feet kept stuck to the ground. She opened her mouth to take in a deep breath, her throat felt dry from dehydration but it was her only chance of hopefully getting out of this situation.
"I didn't do it!" She yelled for all to hear, just as the audience's yells calmed. If looks could kill, all would be dead at the sight of her determined scowl. Her eyes glistened with something fierce, a strong feeling of conviction and savageness. What arose, however, was a fit of laughter from the crowd and the guards alike.
The only two who didn't find anything humorous was the redhead who stammered in vex and embarrassment as well as the executioner who continued to silently observe the situation.
"Didn't do it? That's what they all say!" The guard chuckled to himself and finally regained his cold composure. "Now it's your turn."
Wasting no more time, they pushed her up the stairs.
"But I swear!-" she desperately seethed as she tried turning back "I was framed!" Her words caused one of the executioner's eyebrows to arch in curiosity, but the two guards were not having it anymore. They forcefully jabbed her so she would unconsciously walk up the steps, giving her one last powerful shove.
"Listen lady. You're not the only one gettin' killed today. We got more people in line so just accept your fate already and hurry this up!" the other guard finally spoke up, unenthusiastically staring her in the eyes. He walked up behind her one last time, forcing her to crouch so she could fit her head in the carved out block of wood, keeping her head in place for the decapitation. Afterall, the crowd came for a beheading, not a game of cat and mouse.
"For being found at the gruesome crime scene of your mother's death, making you the sole suspect of her murder, I, king Furrari of Nagagutsu, sentence you, Nami, to the gruesome fate of decapitation." a man read from a fancily designed scroll, a sign that she only had seconds before her head would roll.
The executioner stared into the deep brown eyes of the woman crouched down below. All he had to do was throw down his axe and it would all be over. He was impassive. He never felt anything towards his victims. So why was he so drawn in by those pleading eyes of hers.
He took one last deep breath and raised his axe over his head, preparing for a swing, preparing for another death.
The soon to be corpse squeezed her eyes tight. She had said her last prayers. She was ready.
She heard the whoosh of the swinging weapon and the clear cheers of the audience before her…or rather…boos?
Nami's eyes widened in shock. She wasn't dead! But…why?
"Oi!" A gruff voice called to her, pulling her from her wide-eyed stupor. "Get up. We're going."
Nami turned her head to the side. "But-but what about the execution?! The executioner? The-" She froze once she realized who she was talking to.
"What? Wanna die that badly?" the black hooded man responded, which caused Nami to slowly shake her head no. "Then get up! I cut your restraints already, so unless your legs don't work, there shouldn't be anything you're waiting for."
To make sure he wasn't just duping her, she spread her wrists apart, glad to not feel the painful scratchy rope keeping her from using her arms again. A smile graced her face. Luck was truly on her side this day.
Just as she began to stand, brushing off any dirt that surely collected on her already wrinkled, worn skirt, a guard dressed in the exact garb her "guides" from earlier were dressed in, stepped in front of her, arms spread in an attempt to block her path. In an attempt to gain as much space between herself and the iron-clad guards, she took a step backwards and spun around, only to be even closer to another guard who had happened to sneak up behind her.
She backed up as much as she could, until her heel went over the edge of the platform. She nervously looked back, the yelling mob below trying to grab at her ankle, pull her into the crowd, making her escape impossible and their gruesome 'entertainment' inevitable.
Before she could make any hasty decisions, the guard to her right was thrown to the side. The culprit: the executioner. He took the handle of the sword he had in his mouth and slid it back into its dirtied sheath located on his hip, and took Nami by the wrist, tugging her arm hard, almost enough to pull her shoulder from its socket.
A gasp left her mouth in surprise and, perhaps even more, fear. But now wasn't the time to be scared, at least not of a potential ally in a crowd of people who wanted to see her dead.
The man, who held his grip around her wrist tightly, shoved the guard in front of the two to the floor boards beneath, and hastily stepped over the injured body. Nami did the same, though with a hint of guilt in her eyes as she watched the man roll on the ground, unable to get back onto his feet due to the heavy armor he wore.
Not even looking behind himself to see how the woman he was dragging along was handling, keeping up with his fast pace and overwhelming situation, he jumped down the short flight of wooden planks that could barely be called a staircase, causing his follower to awkwardly stumble down, immediately running to close the far gap between the two.
"Hey!" Nami finally blurted in an attempt to catch her usher's attention "Why didn't you kill me?!"
The gruff escort looked over his shoulder "Did you really want to die that badly?" He asked. It was the redhead's first time hearing the executioner's voice. It was deep and rough, but stoic, despite being chased by dozens of guards and soldiers, each armed with some type of bladed weapon.
"No…" she said slowly, though, in her mind, her thoughts rapidly screeched 'NO!' "But-" before she could finish her sentence, from what she could tell from behind the baggy mask, he went wide-eyed, and before Nami knew it, a strong force pulled her arm and sent her flying forward, straight into a hard and uncomfortable surface. She blinked her eyes open and froze for a mere moment once realizing the hard and uncomfortable surface she had been pulled into was the headsman's chest. A faint flush rosied her cheeks, but she wouldn't let the embarrassing position distract her.
She took a long glance at the crowd just a few meters in the opposite direction. It still raged on, the scene riling them up even more. A smirk crossed the redhead's face as an idea popped into her head.
She saw the executioner begin to unsheath one of his three swords again as a gang of guards began to show themselves before him. Not wanting to be caught in the center of a potential blood bath, she put her two hands on his torso and used all her strength to push him back. The executioner let out a seemingly uncharacteristic exclamation as he stumbled back, finally catching himself on one foot before a small yet very strong hand gripped his large wrist and began to drag him along.
"Oi!" He turned around to see the orange haired woman dragging him along, rushing at a fast pace. Before he could open his mouth to argue
"I found a way to lose all those guards. I'm not doubting your fighting abilities, but I'd like to get out of this situation without another person's death on my conscience!" Those last words left the headsman silent, questions still arising in his head though. The two continued running on in silence.
They were followed closely, almost running into a few garrisons. But their luck would soon run because as the duo ran into the bustling mob, they were nowhere to be found.
The two pushed through the people, losing all but one guard who became astray in the confusion.
It was a fast guard, not much armor to hold him back but some metal gauntlets, shoulder pads, shin pads, chest piece, and a large coat of arms on his chest.
Nami could feel fatigue start to kick in. It seemed no food or water for weeks on end, paired with excessive stress and exercise wasn't the best combination. Her chest felt heavy and her feet began to drag. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with the executioner for much longer, let alone be able to outrun the authority that was close behind.
Her legs suddenly stopped moving. All she had energy left to do was protect her head from the hard crash and let out an audible gasp, squeezing her eyes tight. The last thing she had seen before her life ended was the lightly shielded guard unsheathing his sword…or at least, that's what she had thought.
"Oi, open your eyes, woman" the growly voice brusquely instructed, no sign of mercy for her weary state.
She hesitantly opened both eyes, a shocked squeak leaving her gaped mouth. Laying in front of her, merely inches away, was the body of the guard, crimson seeping from a long cut that his chest piece did little to protect. Her mind could only think of the worse scenarios as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes trailing upwards to the assailant in question. His eyes were closed as he calmly and haphazardly swiped his sword, drops of liquid blood flying straight for the ground, and then slid the sword into its sheath. "I didn't kill him" he said, as if reading the redhead's mind "The wound's not deep".
"But-" she looked with sympathy back at the injured man who was once ready to take her own life.
The executioner huffed "I get it, I'm an executioner" his words made Nami look at him again. He took the top of his black hooded mask and slowly slid off from his head, throwing the ominous article on the ground as well. "Well, was an executioner"
Nami's eyes widened as she took in the (ex)headsman's face. His skin was tanned, a noticeable difference when compared to the sickly white complexion of the majority of Nagagutsu. His nose was skinny, dark shadows contouring either side into a slim trapezoid shape. Although already shown-even with the hood on-the emerald hue of his iris looked brighter than when the dark article covered his head, his other eye permanently shut with an everlasting scar running over it.
But, out of all the newly revealed features, the most noticeable was his hair. It was short, spiked, tousled (though, whether that was due to wearing that hood or it was just a personal style, was far beyond Nami's interest). But what was most intriguing was the color of said hair. To the redhead, it almost looked like-
"Moss" Nami mumbled, although the comment was meant for her own mind, the word had unintentionally slipped out from between her teeth.
"What?!" he demanded she repeat herself. Although he hadn't clearly heard the comparison, he was sure he wouldn't like what she had muttered.
The redhead on the ground readjusted herself to a more comfortable position, pulling her knees into her chest, settling the bottoms of her dirtied, blistered feet onto the dirt terrain. She put her arm up towards the green-ete and gave him a pert smile. "The name's Nami"
He silently stared down at her in silence for moments, deciding whether or not to take the woman's hand.
"Zoro" he said, gripping her small frigid hand in his own large and callused one, pulling her up onto her unsteady feet.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R if you did! Chapters will take a little bit to write due to school, the length I want to make the chapters, as well as some other stuff, so please be patient with me! And for those who prefer ao3, this is posted there too under the username Usopps_fables.