Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

— 5 Seconds of Summer, Teeth

Roses in her petticoats, the jewelry from Sanji glittered round her throat. More than twice as large as the East Hall, the Grand Hall's giant stained glass windows depicted scenes of the Lord Conqueror's ascent to the cave's entrance. Where he gained allies at the Pool of the Whale. Where his brothers were lost in the False God's Cave.

Nami had ambled to the second floor of the hall that overlooked the dance floor. She wouldn't need to go down there after all, and besides that, the food had been placed here as well. Little tarts delighted her tongue, and refreshing little sandwiches sated her while she walked along the glistening stained glass.

She frowned at the sight of the Lord Conqueror standing alone at the end against the thing with claws.

The World Eater.

Its gold-red eyes peered out from the dark, its claws clinging to the entrance of the cave as it climbed out.

Even set in glass, the scene was clear with even simple geometric shapes. A square here, a circle, the triangle claws poking out of the cave over the tiny form of the Lord Conqueror. And the last depiction was the Lord Conqueror taking his Crown of Immortality.

Forever alone.

Who would want to marry him? Who in their right mind? It had to be true. What these balls were about.

As she gazed about, the few men here were only the serving staff or guards at the entrance. A nobleman dotted the crowd here and there to fill out the Grand Hall, but Nami's sinking stomach told her. The only one that had spoken truthfully with her had been that instructor, and she had only seen him yesterday. What kind of instructor was that? Was he meant to just measure their teaching? But he hadn't stayed long and hadn't danced with everyone — just her, Ever, Lily …

Her brow furrowed.

She didn't know everyone's name, but he had danced with all the redheads and blonds.

The music tapered off until a blast of trumpets filled the air. Nami jumped, turning to stare across the Grand Hall when the doors opened. She tensed.

"His Magnificent Highness, Luffy the Divine, King of Ruskaina, Lord Conqueror of the Realms."

And that damned instructor entered the room.

Nami's fluttering stomach lurched. Garbed in a night blue suit, gold embroidery nearly covering it, the Lord Conqueror entered the room in all his glory. His gray cape — slanted over his shoulder in a diagonal slash — gave him a daring edge. He smiled into the crowd, and Nami ducked behind a pillar, sagging back against it as she held her breath.

No!

She clutched her skirts, pulling them inward. Her petticoats, huge and red and blaring with audacity, had he seen them? Nami covered her mouth until she dropped her hand when she remembered he had kissed those fingertips. He — the Lord Conqueror — had danced with her and kissed her hand!

"Bastard," she whispered.

Eyes darted to the windows, but they would hear those break. She had only the balconies in which to hide. The guards wouldn't let her out. Nami couldn't run.

Ducking onto the closest balcony, Nami glanced back. He smiled so warmly at several blushing women.

He raised a hand to his lips.

Nami clung to a railing and fumed.

Liars and fakes, all of them! Even someone who seemed genuine had been a falsehood. Gut twisting, she scowled over the view. Night had swallowed the sun, stars shimmering in her eyes.

All she had to do now …

She just had to …

Shoulders hunching, Nami chewed her lip. Far below, a garden's fountain bubbled away, and her breath caught.

Nami stared over the railing before she pushed away to check for the Lord Conqueror. For a moment, she stared. How did he appear even more lithe than yesterday? Was it the clothes? The pure joy in his eyes?

Scowl tightening her face, Nami eased downstairs to the dance floor. It connected to the garden though. She would be trapped on the balconies if she stayed. In the garden, even if she could not escape entirely, Nami would find little places to hide.

She held her breath, eyes stinging as she weaved through other skirts, as huge as hers or sometimes larger. They didn't care where she was going, so long as she wasn't pushing to get a closer view of the Lord Conqueror. The women let her go. Did she look suspicious? Nami didn't care so long as he didn't spot her. When night air hit her skin again, Nami quickened her steps, daring to skip steps down the small stairs into the garden. Out here, she could run. Into the garden, she would escape.

Gasping, she didn't stop until she reached a little fountain pool. Behind her, the music rang through the boughs that cloaked her. She collapsed onto the bench with a sigh, eyes shut tight.

Why had her days turned into one escape after another? Every attempt had been a failure. Wasn't there some rule of three? Four? Could she get away on the sixth try at least?

She only needed one victory.

And she had few of those lately.

Aching, so very suddenly exhausted, Nami watched the water twinkle in star and moonlight and shadows.

What was the plan now?

Could she hide here for the rest of the night, slowly freezing as the night grew colder? Someone had to have seen her run out. Would he send for anyone to go after her?

I'm the brat, she thought. Why would he want to dance with me again anyway?

She had told him straight to his face that she didn't want to marry him. He could respect that, couldn't he?

Would he?

Nami clutched her stomach, swallowing nothing while her insides warbled. He was going to be the death of her whether or not they married.

Men were ulcers.

With a sigh, she straightened, tilting her head as the music swelled. Was the song ending? Would he search her out?

Holding her breath, Nami sat like that between every break, clutching her petticoats. Ready to dash if she heard a rustle that was not the wind. She found herself on the edge of the bench eventually, shivering while the fountain twinkled merrily away.

The music, elegant in its dips and swells, played on.

Nami hung her head and bit her cheek.

How long had she waited? Her stomach gurgled in hunger rather than sickness. She remembered the line of finger foods in the Grand Hall, ready for her to slip in and grab a few bites.

She raised her eyes to the half moon over her.

An axe.

For a little while, Nami grimaced, touching the curls atop her head before her hand dropped to the ruby necklace Sanji had given her. If he saw her, would her old plan work if he dragged her into a dance?

Could she turn him away still by revealing her greed?

Nami stood, peering through the branches toward the Grand Hall.

What hour was it now?

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself before she tiptoed first, peeking around trees for guards or the Lord Conqueror himself. Perhaps the evening was late enough that she would only have a brief dance with him. Could an immortal god be tired?

Light from the ballroom dazzled her. She had concealed herself in the dark too long. If she hadn't worn long gloves, Nami might have frozen. It was still summer, but the night sapped at her heat. She gazed at the entrance back inside before she sighed.

The music had begun once more.

He would be dancing. Distracted by his partner.

Nami crept to the entry.

Her head popped inside, tense.

Eyes widening, she searched the dance floor with her eyes. Couples were dancing, some ladies with one another while they waited for men to lead them instead. They giggled between trying to decide who led. Nami couldn't find the Lord Conqueror. Shoulders pinching closer, she hesitated.

"Could I have this dance?"

She spun.

He took her hand, and Nami's breath hissed out in a rush when the Lord Conqueror pulled her against him. Head spinning, she tried to make sense of her error. Had he left the ballroom as well?

Face hot, Nami realized he had hidden as well. Her eyes stung though. "Bastard."

"Brat," he whispered, and she shuddered as he leaned toward her.

Taut as a bowstring, she released. Her palm stung, and Nami gaped when she realized that she had slapped him.

The Lord Conqueror smiled.

"Is that a no?"

Her mouth worked silently before she could form the words. "You lied to me."

"Did I?"

Lips thinning, she scowled at him. She thought about slapping him again, but all her tension had left her. He would kill her now — no wedding needed.

"That's the worst part," she said. "You didn't even have to say a word and you lied."

"Nami the brat. Nami the scammer. Nami the greedy little village woman who pried coin from her fellow ladies." He touched his cheek, the one with the scar. "Nami the woman who slapped the Lord Conqueror."

"Yes, well, you see how it would never work." She licked her lips, drawing away, but he tugged her back.

"Nami the woman who loves her family." Nami tensed, darkening as he swayed, and her feet moved along with him. The dance began.

"I kept increasing the price if they were difficult."

"You didn't charge the village women."

She winced. "I scam men out of jewelry for kisses and other favors. I'm a slut."

"So you're experienced." His black eyes twinkled when he smiled. "I'll have nothing to teach you?"

Her face burned. How could that be a point in her favor!? She tugged out of the steps, but he kept hold of her hand, following to the music before he spun her back into his arms.

His breath touched her throat. "Unless you've never truly danced?"

A crowd formed at the entrance. People peeked out to watch their dance on the terrace. Her attempt to escape.

When he spun, Nami turned away, burning as her back hit his chest instead. A bare hand smoothed down her shoulder to curl into her fingers. Nami's hips swung with his, the rhythm dictating her steps, yet his hands clutched hers, his face in her neck that commanded. She could uncoil one hand, but never the other, so while she released from one to twirl from it, he would smile, dragging her back in with the other.

Chest to chest, she quivered through the turns and sways. He dipped her, and Nami swore her heart leaped from her throat.

Graceful was wrong.

Nimble. Forceful. Effortless. The Lord Conqueror took her by the hand and spun out all expectations.

She tried to speak, but found it all dying on her lips, panting as the musicians must have caught the mood. How the steps quickened. A sharp, brisk chant from the violins. The piano winked into a pace where Nami could no longer argue verbally.

It was a fight to keep pulling away. She swore his lips were trying to tease her, yet he never pressed them to her skin. Only slipped over. Breathed. Another spin away, and when he brought her inexorably back to him, his hand grasped her waist before it slid to her hip, squeezing.

Nami choked on a gasp, heat flushing her skin.

Hand grasping her hips. His face in her throat. His lips skirted her flesh.

"This kind of dance is fun."

When she swallowed nothing, soft lips grazed her skin, and a croak left her. "I'm trying to run."

"I know that dance too."

Nami burned.

The Lord Conqueror pressed her to his chest. For a moment, she breathed, inhaling his fragrance. Sweat, something hot and spicy. Stepping to the music, his head turned just so to press his cheek to hers.

"I know when to let a gasping woman breathe. That way you can keep trying to run."

She shivered.

His breath tickled the curls by her ear. "I'd like to keep catching you."

"Bastard."

"I don't mind a bit of a brat. You make it fun."

Swallowing hard, Nami paled before she drew her head back from his. For a wonder, he let her. She wasn't yanking back so far, she supposed. When he gazed down, her heart jumped as he raised his hand to her chest.

But he traced the jewelry hanging from her throat.

"This doesn't become you at all. Where'd you get this then?"

Nami scowled. "Become me? It's not like you gave me any — any jewelry."

He lifted his eyes, and she ducked her head, but his hand, still on the necklace, tilted her chin up.

"Who?"

So close now, she stared into deep eyes. The Lord Conqueror loomed, pressing.

"I don't have to tell you a damned thing."

The music closed out, so she attempted to pull back, but his next yank was so hard, the breath left her.

"Nami the fighter."

She blinked, mind spinning. "Right … right! I'm not the one." Nami shivered when he turned her, spinning her to bring her back to his arms.

"No? And you're the expert on that?"

Face flaring, hardening, she said, "You're so sure you want a spoiled woman?"

He chuckled. "You think I haven't before?"

Nami pulled away.

He tugged her back.

Her heart pounded, and Nami saw the crowd gaping from the entrance. The entire lot stared at her.

Nami freed her hand once more, but brought it back to his cheek, only for the Lord Conqueror to catch it. That grin never left his face.

His smile told her before he did.

"You."

The breath left her as he threaded his fingers through hers. He squeezed, clenching her heart. Lips parted, but Nami's throat dried. Trembling, she clutched back, nails digging into his shoulder to keep steady. That was just one word. It wasn't even a sentence.

She shook her head, and he smirked.

"You're old enough to find a husband on your own, but I think you need someone with a firm hand." Turning hers to his lips, Nami gaped as he kissed her fingertips once more. "Or a soft kiss? We'll see which you like best."

Nami's face ignited. When she pulled her hand away, clutching it to her chin, he wrapped his arm around her. Cocooned within, she squeezed her eyes shut. They stung worse than before, but she could not cry. She would not allow him to see a single tear. It would do nothing — mean nothing to a god.

So her jaw clenched, willing her eyes to dry them. Nami clawed into his shoulders, and the fool chuckled.

What madness was this?

She laughed. It started as a cough, but then it devolved into giggles. Nami sounded hysterical in her own ears. What else was there to do but laugh?

Everything else had failed, but she would not cry in front of him.

When the dance — or had she just clung to him? — ended, the Lord Conqueror lifted her chin once more.

He tilted her head side to side as her laughter subsided, raising a brow before he kissed her forehead. A soft applause started behind her, and Nami peeked over her shoulder. His hand against her back, her head on his chest, Nami listened to a rumble in his breast as he spoke.

"I've decided on my bride. On this, your birthday, your day of becoming a woman, I've chosen Nami to be my wife. My love."

The god she would marry.

In her ear, he whispered, "Would you blaspheme with me?"

That was, she thought, the worst part. She had thought she could handle men with their lust. Nami was their every desire, and she had known how to control that. Did he not need to teach her? What could she possibly do for a god's lust?

He had married so many.

And he danced so well.

She closed her eyes, still panting while the watchers gave a cheer, her name on their lips.

Usopp had smiled so nervously when he greeted her, but Nami couldn't snap. Face frozen, she strode down the hall while her mind reeled. After everything she had done to prevent it, everything she thought might stop the betrothal, it would happen anyway. The Lord Conqueror had chosen her.

Where had she gone wrong?

She threw the thought aside — nothing to be done with it now. Nami had to—

Nami stopped short as Usopp turned down another hall. "Where—?"

"We've prepared new chambers, La — Lady Nami." He bit his lip, not meeting her eyes as he sweated.

Lips thinning, Nami took a deep breath before she turned to follow him. "Lead the way then."

Usopp's mouth hung open before he bobbed hard in a bow. "Of course!"

He trotted down the hall as if ready to run from her, but Nami attempted a steady pace. Stately. Her hands shook.

They climbed stairs as they went, and Nami glanced about. She would have to remember how to get here by herself at least and forget about the other chambers. Nami licked her lips. "My things?"

"We've brought everything there already."

She nodded, dread washing through her. Somehow, they had taken her autonomy in a single hour. Or had it been happening for a while?

Lord Conqueror, why—!?

Nami shoved it from her head, staring at columns that became more ornate as they went. When she looked at the walls, a painting of the Lord Conqueror holding something glowing in his hand faced her. She bowed her head.

When they finally stopped at gleaming dark wood doors, Nami debated sagging to the floor.

Usopp opened the door for her, and she winced at the splendor. She had thought she had seen rich furniture already. The view of velveted upholstery in the foyer had her aching to chuck her shoes off, but she stepped inside, peeking over her shoulder at Usopp.

"I'll take care of myself tonight. I don't need the maids."

He fidgeting, hesitating there before he bowed. "Good night, Lady Nami."

"Good night."

As the door finally shut, Nami took stock of her foyer. Couches. Plural. As if she might host an army! Paintings of orchards and fields lined the walls, and an enormous fireplace already burned to warm the room. She rubbed her arms in front of the flames, shuddering as the heat refused to sink into her bones.

At last, she went to check the doors. Three of them. One had an office, lined with bookshelves instead of walls. Most were empty, but one section was filled with books. Etiquette, manners, politics …

She stared at the chamber behind the opposite door, pursing her lips at what seemed to be an empty fountain, tiled in deep blues and greens. It had three doors too, the one she had entered through. The second had that marvelous privy set up inside that flushed. On the other side of the tiled room was the third door. Nami stared as an odd thought prickled in the back of her mind. She chewed her inner cheek, taking a step toward that door before she shook her head and left.

The last door in the foyer had her bed chamber behind it.

And another door.

A four-poster bed called to her with gossamer curtains that promised to shield her from morning light. She yearned to collapse inside the huge, fluffy blankets. To hide. But she turned to the last door.

It prickled at her too.

Her closets were on either side of this door, empty except for the mock-up, another corset and other underthings. Beautiful in their gilded wood, smelling of cedar. Three mirrors bright as the sun stood from floor to ceiling in golden frames.

But she stared at the door.

There was no lock.

Heart pounding, she reached for the handle. This she clutched for a moment longer, her eyes closed before she peeked into the other side.

In comparison, her bed was dwarfed by this one — a cloud fit for a king.

Or a god.

She took a deep breath and wished she hadn't when it filled her with his scent. Hot spices and salty, sweet sweat. Nami clicked the door shut, retreating to her bed.