Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and gore.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters, they belong to Eiichiro Oda.
Wolf's Nature
He hated sleeping. He hated dreaming. He would lie awake for as long as he could, fighting against the pull of his eyelids to avoid the dream that refused to end. But it always came. It always dragged him back in to the same dream he loathed. The same stone. The same sun-dappled field. The same chains. The same incessant question he had yet to find an adequate answer to.
As much as he hated those dreams, he hated waking even more. His bed was too large, too cold, too empty. His hall a shadow of itself. Misery surrounded him, dragged him down as he struggled to go through his daily routine. He knew he could not wallow. His village needed to be repaired, rebuilt. His people needed to be coaxed back, though he would not force them to return until he was certain it was safe, and that would not come until Enel's head was on a spike. He needed to prepare for the war on the horizon.
Because it would come. And he would not see defeat again.
He had thought that sleep would allude him once he returned to Drafn. His mind would be too focused on what his hall lacked, the empty room beside his and the woman it belonged to out of reach. He had ransacked their rooms the first night. The curtains were torn down and shredded, her bedding ripped off and scattered around the room. Her table was overturned, as was his own. The floor was littered with shattered wood and tattered cloth. And when that rampage was over, he remained angry, but too exhausted to care. He collapsed in bed, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and drowned in sunlight and iron chains.
Since he returned, everyday was the same. He woke bitter and angry and cold. He ate meagerly, just enough to maintain his strength, and then sat at Killer's side to help him eat his breakfast while his burns continued to mend. He trusted Heat to take care of his cousin, but the healer had others that needed him more. Kid could see to his own family, leaving the rest to Heat and the able-bodied people capable of aiding him.
After the meal, he helped clean Killer's wounds while Heat prepared to replace the dressings. That was a difficult task to sit through. To hear his cousin hiss and grunt in pain, to see him flinch and lean away when it grew too much, to witness a man he knew to be strong suffer from wounds he should never have received – it all served to make Kid angrier than before. At least Killer was alive. He would heal. He would grow stronger. And they would take down the scum who thought to make them suffer.
He spent the rest of the day rebuilding the smithy or chopping down trees or repairing homes or docks. Whatever kept his hands and mind busy. Those were the only moments of relief from the dark rage simmering at the back of his mind. He didn't have to think of anything beyond the hammer in his hand and the nails he drove into boards, or the axe slicing through a tree. He could pretend it was Enel's head or neck that he aimed at, but when he dared to think of the king, whatever he worked on was demolished and he would be forced to start all over again. It was better not to think, only to feel.
He worked until the skin of his palms turned raw and bloody, and his body ached from head to toe. Others aided him in the rebuilding efforts, but he was the one who worked straight through the day, until someone rang the bell for dinner, and then he continued to work until someone dragged him to the hall to force him to eat.
Sind was typically the one sent to fetch him. The boy followed in his wake most of the day, silently helping where he could. The few slave women that had fled to the safety of his family's old farm, and were brave enough to return, would take the boy away to keep him from working to the brink of exhaustion like Kid would. Nami would never forgive him if he worked the child to death, so he said nothing when the women took him away for a drink or treat.
He did not eat supper with his men in the hall as he normally would. He had the slaves tuck his share into a box and satchel, along with extra food and supplies, strung it over his shoulder, and took a horse out to his old hovel to see to Gunda. The woman refused to return to the hall, refused to eat, refused to speak. Every night he visited her, she remained in the tiny bed that once belonged to his mother, the bed he once shared with Nami, and hid beneath the furs in her melancholy. He did not coax her to speak as he shared his meal with Geir and Ingvild.
The little girl was sullen after the loss of her grandmother, but she was coping better than Gunda. Her young life had not seen as much death and destruction and tragedy as Gunda's had. This last battle, and the injuries Gunda sustained, broke a woman who had been broken a dozen times over.
He did not know what words to say to comfort her, knew better than to try, but refused to let her think that he had abandoned her.
She fought bravely to protect Nami, just as she was supposed to do. She did not have to bear the weight of her defeat on her shoulders. The failure was not merely her own. She did not have to be alone in carrying it.
Each night as he left, he stood over the bed and barked an order he knew Gunda would not follow, not yet. He demanded her to return to the hall, to prepare herself to take Nami back. And if she would not do that, then he ordered her to eat, even just one bite of the bread he brought. He ordered her to stay alive long enough to see her lady return to them.
He wanted to be angry with her for giving in to her weakness, for sinking into a pit of despair. He wanted to shout at her, drag her from that bed kicking and screaming. He had not given up. He was shackled by the gods, helpless to do anything. A part of him wanted to give in, too. He wanted to waste away, lying in cold misery in his empty bed. But he refused to cower, to mourn, to run away. He would move forward, and with time, he would see that Gunda did, as well. He would allow her to heal and mend, both the scars on her face, and those in her heart, but he would see she came back to them, whether she wanted to or not.
He spent his last waking hours of the evening with his cousin, ending the day as it began. Even as the others settled into bed, he remained at Killer's side, combing his long blond mane to keep himself busy. His cousin was proud of his hair, as any man should be, and Kid would not let it turn to rotted mats. He had trimmed the singed ends, and clipped away the whiskers of his beard that grew too close to his blistered flesh. He braided the locks every night to keep them from sticking to Killer's weeping sores as he slept. At week's end, he would wash the mane with lye soap to keep it clean and trim away any other damaged pieces he could find.
Darkness would have long since fallen before he allowed himself to go to bed. He took a generous pitcher of ale with him every night, hoping it would drown his dreams in black, instead of the light that had turned into a cruel taunt of what he could not have. It only ever ensured that he woke with a headache the next morning, but he stubbornly persisted with the routine in the hope that it would work even once.
That night, after weeks of the same sun, the same field, the same stone, the same chains, he finally opened his eyes to a different dream.
It did not seem different at first. He remained in the clearing, the forest surrounding him, with the same stone at his back and chains around his limbs. The sun was dimmed, speckled by wisps of grey cloud. Shadows danced over the field, fell over his prone form. He could hear the boar rustling in the trees, but otherwise the world seemed too silent, too still.
He jerked at a chain and waited for the question to come, but he was only greeted with silence. He knew he was out there – watching, waiting. Why did he not speak? Why did he not ask his question?
Kid growled and kicked at the chain around his foot. The clouds grew, the field darkened, a gentle mist settled over him. Still no question came. What did he wait for this time?
The rock grew slick beneath him as he twisted an arm, curled a hand, tried to slip free of a shackle. There was a hiss of fabric that moved through the tall grass. He grew still and craned his neck to see who approached.
The shadows and mists coalesced, turned into creatures shrouded in cloaks that writhed and swirled, like black smoke rising from a smoldering flame. Three surrounded him. One at his feet. One at his right. One at his left.
He has no answer, a voice croaked. He did not know which one spoke. The words echoed around him, filled his head, and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
He does not know, another voice rasped.
He does not understand, yet another mused.
He waits, the first said.
He waits, the second agreed.
He does not see, the third remarked.
What will you give for her? they asked as one.
He growled at the question he had been waiting for. "Everything," he hissed in response.
Their heads moved, shook side to side. He saw no faces, but he knew they were disappointed all the same.
"Free me," he shouted as impatience clawed at his chest. He was tired of the gods and their games. He was tired of the riddles, the questions. His fate was his own. He would take it into his hands and end the curse once and for all. "I know you are out there," he bellowed above the three. "End this! Free me!"
A long sigh carried on the breeze and the three figures drew closer.
He does not know, one said.
He does not see.
He does not wish to see.
"See what? What am I missing?" he asked in frustration.
The figure before him shifted. The mass of smoke where a head might be tilted to the side.
He believes they have the key.
He believes the chains are of their making.
He does not see.
He wanted to cry at their words, but shouted instead. He slammed his head back against the rock, willing it to shatter with the strike. Riddles. Endless riddles. His life was turning to riddles that would drive him mad.
He does not know…
Of what he is capable…
Of what he has done…
He shouted again. The iron chains clattered against the stone as he struggled.
They closed the shackles…
But they did not forge the iron…
The chains were already there…
He stilled once more and stared at the shadow in front of him. The chains were already there? The gods did not forge them? What did that mean?
Laughter echoed around him. Deep chuckles, melodic giggles, conniving snickers. A chorus of jeers and mockery that rankled him. He jerked at his bonds to search for who dared to belittle him, but he saw no one there.
Hatred…
Sorrow…
Anger…
Fear…
Useless…
Worthless…
Striving…
Failing…
Falling…
The words surrounded him, filled him, cut at him. The mist turned to rain as they spoke. Cold droplets pounded on his brow. He struggled at his bonds, but even though his hands were slick with water, he could not slip them free.
He restrains himself…
He fears failure…
And yet he rushes headlong toward his own demise…
He would rather die…
Than lose…
But what can a dead man achieve…
He must see it…
He must know it…
He must fear it…
Flee it…
See it…
The shadows drew closer. He shut his eyes as cold, white, gnarled hands reached out toward him. The rain came down harder. The water deafened him. The sound of a crashing wave filled his ears. But he could still hear them.
If he remains here…
Stagnant…
Powerless…
Useless…
He will drown…
Then let him drown…
Let him see…
Water lapped at his feet. Icy fingers clawed at his skin, pulled him down. He tried to shout, but water filled his mouth, his lungs. The stone vanished, but the shackles at his wrist bit into him as he reached out. He did not want to drown, not there.
He had to see her. He had to save her.
He was not powerless. He was not useless.
He was not afraid.
To die.
To live.
Open your eyes, they hissed in his ear as the water rushed up around him.
Open your eyes and see, they said as the chains and bony fingers dragged him deeper.
You will see…
And you will know…
And you will understand…
What she strives for…
What she fights for…
He could not open his eyes. He could only struggle as water filled his lungs and dragged him into the depths like an iron hammer dropped into the sea.
Open your eyes…
See…
Her…
His feet struck solid ground just as his eyes snapped open. A rush of putrid air filled his lungs. The stench of death surrounded him.
But she was there. A beacon of fire at the center of a bleak world, painted in blue and grey, frozen in time.
"Nami," he breathed out and took a step forward. His foot slipped with a sickening squelch. He looked down and lost his breath.
Corpses. A sea of corpses. Wolves and men. Giants. Rivers of blood flowed from them, through them, around them. Swords and spears and arrows grew from their limbs and backs and skulls.
He stood in a battlefield.
The battlefield.
He looked toward her again, squinted through the haze that rose from the tattered, blood-soaked earth. A giant loomed above her, his hair inky black, his skin as blue as the sea, his teeth jagged and sharp – the maw of a shark. The giant reached down for her. The world was frozen, but he moved. Slowly. Creeping. Inch by inch.
And she was helpless. Alone. Clutching a lifeless lump of fur that he knew must be the wolf in her dreams. The wolf that was he.
Her face was streaked with blood. And tears. Her hair was matted and wet and filthy, its glow fading, dying with every passing second as the giant's shadow crept closer.
Her head was angled back. Her mouth gaping. A silent scream? A wail? Terror or despair? He did not know what she felt of those two, but either would leave her helpless. Hopeless.
He stepped forward, ignoring the death and decay around him. He focused on her. Only on her. Always on her. He had to save her. He could not let this be the end. He had to break her curse. He swore that he would set her free. It could not end this way.
"Nami," he shouted, but he felt that his voice was as silent as her own. He could hear nothing around him. Only emptiness. And death.
"Nami," he hollered again. She did not move. She did not blink. The giant's hand crept closer still. A tear slid down her cheek.
He growled and prepared to run. He would stop this. He would end this. He would reach her. He would protect her.
He slammed into nothingness, into a mass of air as hard as stone. His shackles rang as he pounded on whatever stood in his way. There was nothing there to stop him, and yet he could not move forward. He could not reach her. He could not touch her.
"Nami," he yelled. "Let me save her! Release me!"
No one answered. The barrier remained before him. He pounded and pounded, snarled in frustration as the world shook around him. He punched and shouted, willed his fist to shatter the wall before him.
The giant's shadow swallowed the last of Nami's flame. A rumbling chuckle echoed around him, sadistic in its victory. The world quaked and he could finally hear her scream, her agony.
It shattered into darkness. Void. Emptiness.
He floated in the nothingness. His chest felt hollow. Dead.
It was over. He lost her. He lost everything.
Kid, a voice whispered.
It was a sweet sound, a breath of fresh air.
Kid, it called again. Louder. Closer.
A scent carried on a breeze. Rain. Leaves. Oranges?
Open your eyes, she said. Please open your eyes.
He wanted to, but what would he see? More death? More ruin? More failure?
Kid!
This time her voice was so sharp, so close as it echoed around him, he had no choice but to open his eyes.
He laid on the ground. No… roots. Warm but damp. The iron shackles remained on his wrists and ankles, the chains slithered away to wind around the base of a tree.
"Kid," she called from above. Excited. Eager. Relieved.
He looked up into the boughs of a tree so mighty and old, it robbed him of all breath. As he stared up, he swore it grew taller. He picked himself off the ground, and even at his full height, he could not reach the lowest branches.
But she was up there. Somewhere.
"Nami," he called out. "Where are you?"
"I can see you," she called back, her voice all around.
He searched through the branches and evergreen leaves. He thought he caught a flash of amber, but water dripped into his eyes and blurred his sight.
"I can't see you," he hollered.
The tree creaked and groaned and stretched. He looked toward the trunk. The wood was gouged and carved from the chain, claws had raked through the bark.
A wolf had fought at his bindings.
"Kid," she yelled.
He thought she sounded closer. He heard a branch snap. A huff of annoyance. He grappled at the tattered bark and tried to climb, even as the branches grew further away. He would dig his fingers into the wood until there was nothing left but bony stumps if he had to. He would find a way to climb up and reach her.
He listened to her huff and struggle in the boughs above while he tried to climb the trunk. He slipped each time he tried to balance a foot on a root or gouged piece of bark, and slid back to the ground. But they would find a way to reach each other. They had to.
A rumble of thunder was followed by her gasp.
"Nami?" he called out when she grew silent. He craned his neck to search for her again, but found nothing.
Lightning flashed in the grey sky above. The tree trembled at its thunder.
"Nami," he shouted, but still heard no answer.
The roots around him rolled and writhed as they grew out into the well of water the tree sat in. They curled up, pushed him from the trunk, and closer to the water's edge. It was driving him away from her. Why would it keep him away from her?
Rage returned. If he had an axe, he would chop the damn thing down. He would find her then. The tree would send her to him, if only to save itself. He would tear and gnaw at its roots with his hands and teeth in place of the axe he lacked.
The roots shifted and spread and rose above him until he could no longer see the rest of the tree while the cool waters of the well splashed at his feet. He struck a root, slammed a fist against it until it trembled from the force.
Something fell from above and landed at his feet in the water with a splash. It squealed and thrashed, and he looked down to see it was a rat. It looked nearly starved, little more than skin and bones, and its front feet had been cut off. Flies swarmed the creature, taunted it, agitated it, bit at its flesh until its hair was patchy and bleeding. If this was who he thought it was, then he was pleased to see that he suffered.
But then the swarm of flies grew, and the air filled with their buzzing. They flew into him, nipped at his face and hands. He swatted them away, only to see their numbers double. He stumbled back as they attacked and attacked. Water lapped at his ankles, his knees, his thighs.
It is dangerous, a voice hissed and bellowed all at once just as the flies burst into flames.
A man lunged at him with a sneering smile and mischievous eyes and hair licked with fire that burned as bright as hers.
"Soon," he snickered, "but not yet."
With a harsh shove, he toppled Kid into the water, to drown in the depths of the well.
A hand grabbed him and pulled. He gasped in a lungful of fresh, sweet air and opened his eyes to the sunlit field and stone and chains.
He would have bemoaned the return of the dream that haunted him, but this time he welcomed the warm sun that chased away the shadows and chill of all the worlds he had seen.
A shadow fell over him, and he wondered if the Norns had returned, but the rumbling, soothing chuckle was different from their croaked and raspy voices. The rage he felt moments before ebbed. The tension in his shoulders fell away. Peace. Calm. Focus.
"You saw her," he said. "You saw that she reaches for you."
"Where is she?" Kid asked. He knew, but he needed to be certain, without a shadow of doubt. He needed to know the direction he had to go in. He needed to know which way to turn to find her.
"Soon," he answered. "As the queen sets the board for her king, the first moves have already been made."
He furrowed his brows at the strange remark. What did that mean?
He could see the man's toothy grin through the shadows of his cloak. "Soon you will know. Soon you will see. But first you must wake…"
Wolves howled in the distance.
"Wake to who you are. Wake to the fury inside you. Feel it. Use it. Consume it, but do not let it consume you. The time is near. The chains have already loosened, the oldest links have grown weak with rust. Soon there will be nothing to hold you back from attaining everything you seek. Soon you will have her again and your heart can know peace…
"But first you must awaken."
He shot up in bed, gasping for air. Something tumbled to the floor with a shriek of surprise. He glanced down and found Sind groaning as he rubbed his shoulder. He glowered at the boy, prepared to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but movement beside the door stopped him.
"You would not wake," Heat explained where he leaned against the wall. "You spent the whole night thrashing and muttering in your sleep." He pointed to Sind. "He grew curious when he heard you say Nami's name. I ordered him to let you finish your dream. He fell asleep on you as he waited. What did you see?"
Kid scrubbed a hand over his face and scratched at the thin beard he had allowed to grow in. He spent all his energy on Killer or the village, he had none left for his own grooming. His hair would be a mess if Ingvild did not comb it every night after he supped. Once Nami was returned to him, then everything would be normal again.
"More than I can find words to explain," he answered. "I saw the vision she fears. The one from her nightmares." Heat nodded in understanding and waited for him to continue. "And I saw her… Or heard her… I was at the base of Yggdrasil." Heat's eyes widened, and he leaned forward, urging him to say more. "I could smell her, too. I think it was her. It was sweeter than I remember… The scent of oranges, of the apples from China. But it felt right. She was high in the boughs, out of sight, but I could hear her struggling to climb down. She was calling for me. The tree kept us separated. Then there was thunder, and lightning, and I couldn't hear Nami anymore. The roots buried me, pushed me toward the water…" He furrowed his brow as he grasped for the images from the disjointed dream. "There was a rat. It was being tortured." He chuckled, truly hoping that was Nezumi's fate. "Flies. A swarm of flies that grew as I swatted them away."
"Flies? Nami saw flies in her vision in Britain," Heat mused.
"Someone leaped out at me from the flies, shoved me into the well. He was… on fire… or his hair was aflame. His grin was twisted, amused. Mischief…" He struggled to piece together that bit. It was not as clear as the rest, it had happened so fast. "He said it was dangerous. But soon…" He shook his head to stop himself from fixating on what that might mean. "And then the field, and Freyr. He said that 'As the queen sets the board for her king, the first moves had already been made.' And then he told me to awaken, to use the fury within me. That soon I would have everything."
Heat hummed. "I see… I believe he was warning you of what you would be waking to."
"Waking to?" Kid stared at his healer in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"We have visitors," he said.
Kid's brows shot up. "Visitors? Who?"
Heat remained silent, his lips pursed in a frown that told him he would not like his answer. "They came as you slept. Wire has refused them entrance into the hall. We all agreed that you would not want to invite them as guests."
Kid growled at the cryptic response. "Who are they?"
Heat bowed his head and turned for the door. "You should eat first. Take your time to see to them." He glanced over his shoulder as he walked out. "It is late in the morning. They have waited for hours already. They can wait longer. I do not think you would appreciate hearing of the king's taxes before you have had a meal."
Understanding dawned on him. Heat was correct, he did not want to hear of the king's taxes. Not before he ate, and not after. Not ever.
He jumped out of bed and snatched a pair of trousers from the floor. He noticed Sind sitting on the floor, his head cocked to the side in confusion as he watched him dress. "Hand me that knife," he ordered, gesturing to a knife he wedged into the table beside his bed. "And find an axe," he added while he wrapped his thick leather war-belt around his waist.
The boy did as told, and scoured the ruins of the room for an axe while Kid tied his hair back with a thin strip of leather. He found the axe beneath the bed, then waited for Kid to pull his boots on and wrap his legs with leather and wool up to his knee before holding the weapons out for him. Kid took the axe and tucked it into a leather loop on his belt, then slipped the knife into the front of his belt. The iron was cold against the bare flesh of his stomach, but it lit a fire in his veins as he imagined the blood it would soon spill.
He tousled Sind's hair on his way out of the room, ignored the boy as he followed him into the main hall. The men in the room straightened when he entered, their eyes watching as he stormed toward the closed entryway.
"Kid," he heard Killer rasp from his furs. He waved for his cousin to stay put, but he could hear as Killer groaned and struggled to stand despite the order.
"Jarl Eustass," Wire spoke up as he rushed to intercept him.
"Do not stop me," he bit out. His glare was enough to see Wire stand down and back away. No one else tried to get in his way after that, but they all rushed to follow him outside once he tore open the front door.
Strangers milled about the square. None were at ease, not when two dozen of his own men stood guard throughout the village. They were wise not to lower their guards. Even if they came in peace, they knew not to expect a hand held out in hospitality or grace. Their king attacked his people without just cause, and he was not known to be the forgiving sort.
As he stepped onto his porch, a single man stepped forward while the twenty or so that accompanied him fell into line. Their hands flexed at their sides, hovered near the pommels of their weapons.
"Jarl Eustass," the man called to him in greeting.
"Are you the one in command?" he barked out as he leaped off the porch and continued to storm toward the men that were not welcome in his territory.
"I am," the man at the forefront said. He clutched his sword but did not draw it. That was a mistake. "My name is McKinl—"
He grabbed their commander by the throat, ending the introduction in a strangled, garbled hiss of air as he lifted the man off the ground. He did not care to hear his name, nor the name of any of the others. He did not need them to speak until his question was answered.
Swords scrapped in their sheaths in front and behind. The tension in the square was on the cusp of shattering, but Kid raised a hand to signal his men stand down. The only reason he knew the king's men did not attack was because they were outnumbered by his forces. Half of his men may still be wounded from their last battle, but a wounded man often fought harder, willing to forfeit what little was left of their life to achieve victory for the rest. And they had surely not missed the archers he kept positioned on the roof of his hall. They would be dead the moment they took one step toward him.
He glared into the eyes of the man he held. The commander clawed at his hand in a bid for freedom, but Kid only tightened his grip as he growled. "You should not have come here," he said, barely containing the fury that burned in his chest. "But since your king was foolish enough to send you, then tell me where she is."
"She?" the man hissed once Kid loosened his hold enough for him to speak. "Lady Nami?"
Kid squeezed his throat as he slowly slid out his knife. "Who else would I be asking about? Did your king keep her? Or did he send her back to Arlong? Tell me who has her."
The commander sucked in a breath when he allowed it. "King Enel," he hissed. "She belongs to him."
Kid glanced down when he dropped a hand to grip his sword once more. He did not wait for him to draw it and slammed his knife into his shoulder. His pained cry was stifled by the grip on his throat, but it was still loud enough for the rest to hear.
Chaos broke out in that moment. He left the knife buried in the commander's chest as he shoved him at the oncoming militia to slow their advance.
"Stand down," Kid shouted at his men. It was his last coherent thought. He did not want any of them to fight, did not want a single arrow shot at him as he fought. Lost in his rage, he could not ensure their safety, not when all he saw was red, and all he felt was insatiable bloodlust.
He fought on instinct alone as he drew his axe to catch the first sword swung at his head. He darted to the side as someone struck at his back, clutched the arm that held the second sword, and drove it straight into the first man he held back. As the first fell, he drew his axe down, sliced through the stomach of another, and spun the man whose arm he still gripped to use him as a shield against the first arrow shot his way.
He saw the commander up among his men, a hand clutched to his bleeding chest and the knife sticking out of him. His sword was in his other hand, an angry sneer on his face, but he shouted a command for his men to fall back. He had lost two to Kid's rage, he did not want to lose more.
It was unfortunate for him that Kid planned to kill the lot of them.
"We came in peace," the commander growled. "To negotiate the terms of your fealty."
"Fealty?" Kid could not help but laugh. He threw his head back and cackled at the idiocy. Did Enel truly believe he would surrender his sovereignty? Did the mad-king think he would kneel after one defeat? Did he think so little of him?
"If you refuse to submit and surrender a percentage of your hoard as the first payment of tax due, then we have been given leave to take the one known as Killer as a hostage."
His laughter died at the threat. His rage returned.
"Hostage?" he snarled, and took a step forward. He still held onto the man he claimed as a living shield. His breath was ragged from the arrow in his lung, but he would die soon enough.
"To be put to death in place of the taxes you refuse to pay," the commander explained.
Kid let out a forced chuckled. "You think you can capture him? You think you can get through me to reach him?" The commander glared in response. His men trembled, but forced themselves to glare, too. Their gazes were haughty, overly confidant. They were all looking down on him, just as their king did. "You all piss me off," he growled as he brought his axe up to his captive's throat. "If you want him, you'll have to kill me first," he shouted before slicing his shield's throat open. He shoved the man into the mud to writhe as he slowly died, then stood tall in front of the pitiful army Enel had sent for him. He slammed a hand against his bare chest and dared them to do their worst.
The commander gave a shout, a command to rush the hall and search for Killer. Kid stood in the way of it, and his men all gathered on the porch to watch and wait and fight if they had to.
Their archer shot first. A warning, a threat. The intent did not matter, Kid dodged it all the same. As the archer knocked his next shot, Kid was ready for it. He clutched his axe, waited for the fingers to release the arrow, and then threw his axe, end over end, to bury itself in the archer's shoulder. He fell back screaming, but Kid had already moved onto his next victim. Snatching up a sword from one of the nearby corpses, Kid ran at the army, into a sea of swords and axes and spears.
The world fell away from him between the span of two strikes. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. He saw nothing but steel and blood. Weapons and shields flew toward the battle from the hall, his men giving him everything he needed to fight as he slashed his way through their enemies. When his sword shattered, he grabbed hold of a spear and ran through two men in one strike. He picked up a shield in one hand and an axe in the other, then spun to catch an axe that aimed for his head. He buried his blade in their side when they left it open, stole their axe for himself, and slammed it into the next warrior.
His lungs burned as he lashed at every man around him. One nearly slipped by him, but he tackled him to the ground, and twisted his arm to stab him with his own sword. He held tight to the dying corpse, rolled to his back, and let him take the next axe strike while he took his sword to run through the man that had hoped to kill him from behind.
His hands were slick with blood and sweat when he went for another axe lying in the mud. He threw it at a warrior who thought to rush the hall. The back of it slammed into his head. Not lethal, but enough to stun. Kid was too concerned with the wave of warriors bearing down on him to care about the one who staggered blindly toward the hall. He would collapse, or die at the hands of his men. He was no threat after that.
He found a knife, slashed at someone's ankle to send him to ground while he jumped to his feet. He rushed another man and stabbed him in the gut as many times as he could before moving on to the next.
The battle had turned to madness, but with every man that fell, it gradually slowed. Over the rush of blood in his ears, he heard the command to retreat. He would not allow that.
A dozen lay dead or dying around him as the commander and the rest staggered for their ship. He did not know when he struck them, could not remember much in the haze of his battle. The commander bled from his side and a cut to his temple. One man wailed as he was dragged to the ship, clutching a bloody stump where a hand should be. They wanted the fight to be over, to return home and lick their wounds, to cower before their king and plead that he send a mightier army to lay siege on Drafn.
Kid's anger shifted into a cold rage as he stalked through the bodies around him. He found the archer and his quiver of arrows. He was still alive. Barely. Kid took the axe from his shoulder and buried it between his eyes to put him out of his misery. As the corpse twitched in the throes of death, he snatched up the bow and arrows.
Calm settled over him as he picked off each and every coward that showed their back to him, until only their commander remained. He hobbled toward the ship, glancing over his shoulder as Kid aimed one last arrow on him. His eyes widened in shock and he tried to quicken his pace. It was futile. Even if by some miracle of the gods he reached his ship, he would not be able to sail it, not alone and injured.
Kid first aimed for the man's neck, then thought better of it and shot the arrow straight into the back of his knee. The bastard and his king thought he would kneel. He would show him how wrong they were.
"Get me a hammer," he called to his men as he cast away the stolen bow and sauntered toward the commander who clawed at the mud in some vane attempt to scramble away. "And gather the living," he added as he came to a stop beside the commander. His shadow fell over the pathetic man who finally fell still, resigned in his fate.
"What was your name, again?" Kid asked.
"McKinley," he answered, his voice ragged and raw.
"And Enel sent you to mock me?"
"To collect—"
"Taxes," Kid interrupted with a growl as he slammed his foot onto McKinley's back. "He had to know what my answer would be before he sent you," he said as he crouched down, grinding his heel into the man's spine until he cried out in pain. "They say he has the gift of foresight. If that is the case, then he must know that he sent you here to die. Your death is a sacrifice he was willing to make, just so he could mock me." He grabbed the arrow in McKinley's knee and twisted it until the man screamed. "He is sitting on his throne at this very second, laughing at me." He twisted again. Grinned at the next scream. "And he's laughing at you, too, moron. You sold yourself to a man who thinks nothing of you. You're dirt to him. Scum on the bottom of his shoe." Another twist. Another scream. "You're a coward. You are a pathetic piece of shit who lowered himself to his knees and sucked a madman's cock like a good little slave."
Commotion behind him drew his attention to his men as they approached. They carried six men between them, two were unconscious, the rest barely awake as they bled from open wounds. One man's intestines hung from his gut.
"Line them up by their ship," Kid ordered, then turned back to McKinley. He kicked the commander onto his back, straddled him, and gripped his bruised throat once more. "You wanted to run away. You wanted to flee this place and go home, back to safety, correct?"
McKinley did not answer, only struggled to breathe as Kid strangled him.
"Well, today is your lucky day, because I'm feeling merciful." He grinned as he released his neck and watched the man suck in a deep breath. "I want you to deliver a message to your king for me," he said as he ripped out the knife that had remained in McKinley's chest. He arched beneath him and cried out as blood sprayed from the wound, and then cried out again when Kid slammed the knife back into him. "You tell him," Kid growled as he twisted the knife. He enjoyed listening to this man's screams. He could not laugh at him, could not look down on him, could not mock him while he screamed. He would be sure to do the same to Enel when the day came. "Tell him I kneel for no one. Tell him the only person who might have the power to send me to my knees is the woman he stole from me." He twisted the knife the other way, laughed as he felt the sinew tear. "I will steal her back and I will send him to his knees for taking her from me. I will make him suffer for every tear he made her shed, for every death she had to see. And then I will send him to Náströnd, to be chewed on by the serpent Nidhogg until the end of days. He will know no peace, only the malice I hold for him."
He pulled the knife from McKinley's chest, and then slammed his fist into his face. Over and over and over, as rage burned in his chest once more. He did not stop until McKinley's face was swollen, deformed, a bloody, unrecognizable mess. The commander had lost consciousness, but he continued to breath ragged, wet breaths through the twisted ruins of his mouth and nose.
Kid felt moderately appeased, enough to get off him and drag him to the ship where the others waited. The urge to board that ship with a small army hidden in the guise of Enel's men teased him. The illusory chains jerked on his chest to end that thought. It was not yet time to fetch Nami and Ove back to his hall. This was the first move. If he understood what Freyr had said, Nami was hard at work preparing the board to ensure his victory. He would wait until her signal, and prepare what he could in the meantime.
First, he had to send a message to Enel. He had to declare his intent to war.
He dropped McKinley's body on the dock and stood in front of the other survivors. His men had lined them up, held them on their feet before him.
"This one's dead," he pointed out, gesturing to the one with his gut hanging out. He was surprised he lived as long as he had with that wound. Axel had been holding the corpse, but shoved the body away when he realized Kid was correct.
He moved on to the next man. He was conscious, but his eyes were glazed and his face was pale. Kid held out his hand to Heat who stood nearby with a hammer. Heat handed it over, and Kid swung it hard into the captive's knees. His screams rang out over the fjord as Kid shattered his kneecaps. The sharp odors of piss and shit reached his nose as the warrior fell limp in his captor's hold.
"Toss him on the ship," Kid ordered as he moved to the next.
He shattered the kneecaps of four men. The last captive had been unconscious when Kid reached him. His flesh was deathly ashen and cold. He was halfway into the grave, so Kid took his knife and helped him the rest of the way.
McKinley was the only one left to be put aboard the ship, but Kid had decided to give him a special seat. He laughed when the idea struck him and turned to his men.
"Get me rope and nails," he commanded. "I'll need additional hands for this one."
It took three other men to help him arrange McKinley's body so that it hung from the curled serpent figurehead of their ship. They bound his chest and legs with rope, wound another around his face to hold it aloft, and then Kid had them hold his arms up, hands flat against the side of the serpent's head. McKinley roused as he drove the nails into his palms. He groaned and cried out around the rope in his mouth, and then fell unconscious once more.
He shattered the commander's knees, too, and then climbed aboard their ship to string up the other four. Two were bound and nailed to the center mast, and two were bound and nailed to the support posts on each side of the mast. The four had been conscious for their torture, giving him the satisfaction of hearing their screams. They deserved nothing less for bowing to the scum king that thought to mock him as he stole everything that mattered to him.
"Take our ship and tow theirs to the end of the fjord," he ordered Wire as he leaped back onto the dock. "Set the sail and turn them toward Oslo. I have a feeling the wind and sea will favor their journey home without your help."
"Yes, Jarl," Wire nodded, then turned away to holler for men to help crew their ship.
Kid turned for the hall and the bodies littering the square.
"Jarl Eustass," Heat began as he fell in step beside him. "I need to see to your injuries."
Kid looked down at his bloody chest and arms. There was a gash on his abdomen, another on his collarbone, and his knuckles were bruised and cut. He could feel the sting of another gash on his back as he moved, and fire coursed from another cut on his thigh that left his trousers soaked in blood. He was about to dismiss his healer. He had other things to see to. War was on the horizon and he had to be ready. A few cuts and scrapes were nothing to worry over. But then he noticed Killer leaning against the hall's doorframe, his lips set in a stern frown that silently told him not to argue. He had been allowed to rampage on McKinley and his men without their interference. If he refused his healer's care, he was liable to be yelled at by his cousin. And his cousin needed to focus on healing himself, not lecturing him.
"Quickly, then," he relented. "Axel, burn the bodies."
"Proper burial?" Axel asked.
"No," Kid grunted. "These cowards fight for the piece of shit that took Nami from me. Dump their ashes in the latrine so that we can piss on them every day. Halle, get the horses prepared," he called out as Axel saw to his orders. "After Heat is done with my wounds, we are dragging Gunda back."
"But Jarl, if she is not—" Halle argued.
"I do not care," he growled. "She belongs in my hall. I want her and the rest here before sundown. She can hide in her bed here, for all I care, but she returns to her home. Understood?"
"Yes, Jarl." Halle nodded and jogged off to see to the horses.
Kid ignored Killer's withering stare as he passed him on the way into the hall. He allowed Gunda her time to rest and mourn. Now that he declared war on Enel, it was not safe for her to be in that hovel. Geir might be there to protect her, but he would not be enough if the king thought to surround them again and strike at every vulnerable point.
He had plans to gather as many allies and soldiers as he could. He needed every able-bodied man he could find, and Gunda would help him procure at least a dozen of them, if not hundreds; hopefully without having to swallow any pride.
"We need ships and men and swords," he whispered to Killer. "When Wire returns, I will send him to Álasund to request Iceburg's support. Earl Bonney has already sworn to aid us when the time comes. But I need to replace the men we lost. Gunda will be a crucial voice in persuading certain karls to lend me their best warriors."
Killer's brows rose in surprise. "You mean to send a request to her?"
Kid pursed his lips to show his distaste for the idea, but he had little other choice. "Gunda pleaded for me to spare my half-sister's life. As far as that woman knows, she owes Gunda a large debt for the life she now lives. She has uncles, cousins, a slew of karls at her disposal, and all of their allies."
"They will try to take advantage of you here," Killer hissed.
"Let them try," he growled back. "The first that tries to stab me in the back will see that their life ends. Any other stupid enough to try after that will just be digging their own grave."
"They will still want something in return."
"And I will give it, but only to my sister. The rest can fight her for it after my war is won. Assuming any of them come out of it alive." If he was fortunate, they would be fodder for the arrows and spears at the front line of battle. Let them die first to spare his men an extra second in battle to destroy their enemies. "I spared her life at her guardian's request. She is fortunate I am willing to give her anything at all in exchange for her aid. She should be beholden to me for the mercy I showed."
"She was your sister. You would not have killed her," Killer stated.
"She does not know that."
Killer sighed in response. "Who else should we call on for aid?"
"Not sure yet," Kid grunted. "Let's wait and see what Nami does next. She's plotting something in Oslo, I can feel it. She's not the type to wait around for a rescue."
"That she is not," Killer agreed.
"Now get back in your bed and rest, idiot." He gave his cousin a gentle shove inside. "I need you on the battlefield, too."
"Understood, Jarl," Killer said with a sarcastic snort, but he limped over to his bed, all the same.
Kid collapsed onto a fur beside him. His battle had begun to catch up to him. His wounds had begun to ache, and weariness set into his limbs. His stomach growled. He would eat well that day. He needed the strength for the days to come.
Sind appeared at his side as Heat began to clean and wrap his wounds. Kid had forgotten about the boy, wondered if he had watched the battle just as the other men had. He had watched Lucci and Urouge battle, but Kid doubted he had ever seen anything like a berserker's rage.
"Teach me to fight like that," Sind pleaded. "I want to protect Lady Nami, too."
Kid glowered at the boy. "No."
"But you said you would teach me how to fight."
"I did." He nodded. "But not like that. That ain't something that can be taught."
Sind pouted. "But—"
"No," he interrupted. "I will teach you how to swing a sword or axe, and how to hold a shield. Fight in a blind rage like that, you're liable to hurt everyone around you. Friend and foe. If you prove to hold a berserker's spirit, then Killer will teach you the rest."
His cousin nodded in agreement. The only reason Kid did not fly into blind, destructive rages at every slight or insult was because of Killer's patience. He was still easy to anger, he would never deny that, but the control and discipline he did have, came from Killer's guidance. He learned very quickly that a quiet anger was far more terrifying than the rage he had just unleashed on McKinley and his men. When Killer sank into a rage, it was controlled but deadly. He was quick and efficient with his kills in his anger. He would have slaughtered McKinley and his men in half the time that Kid had if he had been in the position to. He would have left fewer survivors, too.
If Sind learned how to fight in a rage, he would rather he learn from a man who knew how to control his emotions better than Kid ever could. That way he might have a chance to survive long enough to make a name for himself in the future.
Either way, Nami was sure to pitch a fit about it.
"Shit," he breathed out as he realized something important that he had forgotten in his anger.
"What is it?" Killer asked.
"Nami's going to see those men," he whispered.
She knew that he was cruel to his enemies. She knew that he had tortured the Saxons in Britain. She knew that he was vicious and mean and merciless.
But she had never seen the deepest depths of his malice.
What would she think of him when she saw what he had done? When she heard how he slaughtered all but five of the twenty-odd men sent to him? Would she fear him as she rightfully should have from the beginning? Would she be disgusted? Would she hate him?
He was not a good man. He would never be a good man.
She deserved better.
Killer slapped his back and snapped him from thoughts that would do him no good. He turned to glare at his cousin, though he knew the look lacked any potency. It was hard to feign annoyance when his gut twisted with worry.
"Have faith in her," Killer whispered. "She will understand."
He doubted that she would, but he forced himself to hope. It would make no difference what she thought of him. He would war with Enel, drag her back to his hall, and make her his queen.
Even if she loathed him, he would still love her.
Oslo
The king reclined in his room, a picture of calm apathy and ease. Nami sat nearby, trying to concentrate on the runes in front of her, but anxiety and worry clenched at her gut and distracted her from her practice. She had nearly been impaled while sparring with him earlier, her mind far away in Drafn as she feared what was to come. Enel had called an end to that training, his disappointment in her weakness obvious, and commanded her to practice her magic in the hopes she did not accidentally get herself killed before she could be of use to him.
"Draw out twelve stones this time," Enel ordered with a long sigh. He was bored and displeased with her performance. "Arrange them in sets of three for each season. We are in the midst of summer, so start with that, followed by the harvest, then winter, and then the next spring." He plucked a sliver of apple from a gold tray and nibbled. "Tell me what blessings the season will bring us."
She nodded and reached into her runes to swirl them about, then pluck out twelve stones, one by one. She trembled as she arranged them, but strove not to let Enel to see it.
Her fears were two-fold that day, impossible to overcome. She feared what would happen in Drafn, to Kid and his men, and to McKinley and his men. She believed Enel's prediction, believed that soon she would be witness to a grim sight that came at the hands of a man she cared for. She knew what he was, knew that in his rage, he would be capable of dark things. All men were capable of that rage and cruelty. She had witnessed it in Arlong, in Kid, and now in Enel.
Women were hardly immune from such vile acts, themselves. She had imagined spilling the blood of her captors more times than she could count. In her anger and despair, she had imagined plunging a knife into Arlong until there was nothing left of him but chunks of flesh and pulverized sinew and shattered bone. Fear was what held her still, kept her from acting on every violent impulse.
Kid did not have that restraint. If he feared at all, it was not for himself, and the feeling was easily overshadowed by rage. Whatever was returned of Enel's men, her imaginations would likely pale in comparison. The thought made her nauseous, but this was war and there was no turning back now. Sacrifices would be made for her freedom, for Kid's victory, for the future she strove to make possible. Blood would be shed. The sea would run red with it when all was said and done.
The other thing she feared was the consequence of her last dream. She had seen Kid at the base of Yggdrasil. She had called to him and he had answered. Loki had warned her that it was too soon to reach out to him, that all was not prepared, but she ignored him and scrambled from branch to branch, slipped down the jagged trunk, nearly fell twice. She needed to be close to him. She needed to reassure him that she had not fled from him as she knew he would fear. She wanted to be with him. He needed to see that.
Lightning tore through the sky and thunder shook the tree before she could reach him. She hid against the trunk of the tree and clamped her hands over her mouth to silence her every breath. He was there. Enel was in the boughs, watching, listening. He surely heard Kid calling for her. He had to know that she was there, too. She swore that her heart raced in her chest loud enough for any to hear. She prayed with tears stinging her eyes, prayed that he would not find her, that he would not see Kid, that they would be left in peace in the tree – the one place she could go to see him, to see that he was well, to touch him, to feel the life in his veins. She prayed that her sanctuary was kept safe, kept a secret. She could not have them found out.
The tree shifted beneath her and she dared to peek down. The roots had swallowed Kid, drove him from her sight. She saw the rat and the flies that ate at it, saw it fall between a sliver of space between the roots. There was a splash, and she knew Kid was gone. Far from her, but far from Enel's sight. Her chance to reach him was gone, but she hoped to have another chance some other night.
Before she woke, the tree writhed at her back. A knot formed in the wood, then widened into a gaping notch. The branch she stood on shook and lurched and sent her tumbling inside the tree, into darkness and warmth. It shut her in, sealed her off from the world around Yggdrasil's branches. She did not fear in there. She was safe inside the tree. She knew it protected her from Enel, just as it had protected Kid.
It could not protect her in the waking world, though. He had to know. He had to have seen or heard something to make him suspicious. He had not yet said a word of it, but surely, he would. It was only a matter of time. He would lash out and it would all be over.
"Nami," he barked, snapping her from the fear that gripped her heart. She nervously looked up from the runes that may as well be pebbles for all they meant to her in that moment. Enel's face was pinched with annoyance. "Where is your mind at today?"
She bowed her head and cleared her throat. "I am sorry, my lord. I fear…" She took a deep breath. "I fear what is to become of McKinley."
"I already told you what fate will befall those men," he said, tone dangerous and low. "Their deaths will mean nothing to me when the battle comes. The loss will not weaken me. What else worries you?"
Her stomach roiled, and she thought she might wretch. A chill ran through her as she swallowed down her nausea. She felt sweat bead at her temple. Her body felt heavy as she trembled with fear and disgust.
"I also fear that…" She released a shaky breath and dared to glimpse at him through her lashes. "I fear that I have angered you." He cocked his head to the side, his annoyance turned to confusion. She bowed her head and rushed to explain. "You are wasting men on a man not worth your time and attention, all because of me. We have a long voyage to prepare for, your ascendancy to your divine station, a new land to discover. There is so much that must be done. I do not want to displease you with the needless dramatics of my old life. I do not want you to cast me away for all the troubles I give you."
And she feared that he would catch her in the act of subterfuge and slit her throat before she could do any real damage.
She flinched at Enel's chuckle, her spine went rigid as he stood. She didn't dare look at him as he crouched at her side, and flinched again when he placed a hand atop her head. Her lungs burned for a breath, but she could not remember how to breathe.
"Foolish woman," he quipped as he gently stroked her hair. She forced herself to relax, to take a breath. "I am glad you fear me. You should fear me," he whispered, taking her chin in his hand to force her gaze to meet his. "So long as you remember to fear me, and to listen to that fear, then I could never be angry with you. No matter how many men I lose, no matter how much time I waste on this war, none of it will impede the future that I am rightfully due. I will claim my position as a god, and you will be a queen that fears and loves me as you should, and we will conquer a new land together. Even if you are the only one who remains at the end of this war. I only need one person to fear me as genuinely and honestly as you do. I can easily replace all the rest."
She felt awful at his reassurances, yet she also felt relieved. She hated to hear that everyone else was replaceable to him. People could not be replaced so easily, despite what he thought. Even Arlong understood that much. His brethren meant more to him than anyone, he would protect them as fiercely as she would protect those she loved. Even she was not someone he could just cast aside. No matter how many times she ran away, or how many mercenaries she tried to commission to murder him, he always dragged her back and claimed to forgive her. She had no doubt that the day Enel learned of her duplicity, he would have no reservations about killing her. He would not hesitate to end any life that dared defy his authority. Even her own.
"I know you were in the tree. I could hear your heart thundering with fear," he whispered, and she flinched again. He sank down to sit beside her, stretched out his legs, and leaned into her side. "And I know the wolf sensed you. He called for you, but I did not hear you answer."
She released her breath, even more relieved than before. "I did not dare say anything," she said softly. Not with you hidden in the boughs, too, she thought to herself.
Enel hummed. "That was wise. He is not worthy of your attention, and you would have only given him a futile hope." She felt a finger curl in her hair, his hand brushed her spine. A shiver of fear raced through her when he gave it a sharp tug. "I could not see you. I saw the tree moving, changing its shape, pushing the wolf away before he vanished into the well. Did you hide from him?"
She forced herself to nod. "I hid against the trunk and prayed. Then the roots swallowed him up, and a knot opened up to drag me inside."
"Fate keeps him from you," he said. "Your lives are not meant to be woven together any longer. Soon the wolf will no longer haunt you there. He will not hold you back and you will finally be able to see all that you should. When he dies on my spear, then you will truly be free." He combed his fingers through her hair, grazed over her back. "In the meantime, you should continue your study and practice. It will come easier when you allow yourself to have faith in me."
She smiled up at him until her cheeks ached from the effort. She would never have faith in him, no matter how much she feared him, but he did have a point. If she had faith in herself, faith in Kid, faith in their friends, their allies, then nothing should hold her back, not even the crippling fear that threatened to freeze her when she most needed to fight.
"So, what blessings will we see this season?" he asked, turning her back to the runes in front of her.
She shook off her worries and forced herself to focus as the afternoon wore on. She refused to see anything negative in her runes that day. Ill-tidings would not be meant for her, or Kid, or the allies she had collected. Death, ruin, defeat – those were all fated for Enel, or Arlong, or anyone else who thought to stand in her way, to take her from where she wanted to be. Everything decidedly good, while Enel believed them to be signs of blessings for him, she knew to be for herself and Kid.
Her heart fluttered at the wunjo rune signaling joy and harmony in the winter. For such a dark and dreary season to have promises of happiness, she knew it had to be a sign that she would be reunited with her friends. And Kid. There would be a union come the winter, and she had no doubt that it would be with him.
Her smile came easier knowing that good times would come. Just as Bellemere always promised her.
Enel had been lying beside her as she practiced that afternoon; observing, testing, questioning. He sat up abruptly late in the afternoon, his head cocked to the side and a slow grin forming. "I believe it is time," he said. "Gather your things. I will have Ohm prepare a ship."
"A ship?" she asked, gaping up at him as he got to his feet.
"We have to fetch the survivors," he explained as he walked out of his room.
She rushed to tuck her runes into their bag and ran out to find Conis and Laki in her sitting room. She tossed her runes onto her bed and snatched her cloak.
"McKinley and the rest should be returning," she explained to the women. "I do not know what will happen next, so be ready."
They shared a curious look, but nodded in understanding. She did not wait for them to follow as she ran out to meet Enel in his main hall. He spoke with Ove and Satori at a hush beside a table where Ove's new slave sat with Law, devouring a hearty meal of pork and stew. Ove had insisted on feeding Kamakiri the best food the cooks could spare from the stores. He said that he preferred his men not be so scrawny and weak. He wanted meat on his bones. She would have been disgusted at his intentions, but if Kamakiri was permitted to eat as well as she fed Laki, then he might have a better chance to survive and flee. She would not say anything that might see the man abused more than he already would be.
"Nami," Enel called to her when she entered the room, waving her over. "The ship will be ready soon. We will meet Ohm at the docks."
"Of course. Should we bring Corazon along?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Law. "If McKinley and his men return as you have foreseen, they will need a healer. Corazon knows southern medicines and surgery. He would be a vital asset to save your men."
The king glowered at Law, but relented with a nod. "If it will ease your conscience," he said. "Are you willing to aid my men, Corazon?"
"I am curious to see what condition this wolf left them in," Law said. "If he is as vicious as he appears, it could prove an entertaining surgery."
"Then, shall we?" Enel waved for the doors, signaling they lead the way.
Ove slapped Kamakiri on the back and pointed to him in warning. "Behave," he growled.
The silent threat in his voice made Nami's blood run cold. She glanced at Laki and Conis where they hovered nearby, and signaled for them to do what they could to keep him from trouble. She would protect him as best she could.
Law fell in step beside her as they walked out of the hall. His hand grazed her back as he leaned in to whisper in Frankish, "Do you truly wish for me to save their lives?"
"They are pawns to Enel," she whispered back. "He views them as disposable."
His brow arched. "But you do not?"
She glared but could not find a proper answer. She wanted to say that no life is disposable, but in Law's home, a rat sat that she hoped withered away in misery, and a giant searched Svealand for her that she wanted nothing more than to see die. She was a hypocrite, but she would spare what lives she could. McKinley was misguided, struggling to maintain order beneath an oppressive king. She wanted to believe that he enforced the king's laws to protect his people. If he proved to be as cold-hearted as his king, as driven for power, then his life could be forfeit. She had not known him long enough to decide.
"He may be swayed when he realizes how little his king thinks of him," she reasoned to Law. "If his ends are to protect his people here, then his means can be corrected when he realizes the errors of his judgement."
Law chuckled. "You would forgive such a man? Your heart is too soft."
"Better to have a soft heart, then no heart at all," she growled at him.
He jerked back, stunned at her words. Confusion flit through his eyes before he released a long breath and drew away as though she had personally wounded him. She had not meant her callous words for him, but he seemed shaken.
"I did not mean—" she began to apologize, but he waved a hand to silence her.
His expression turned cold and distant as he stared ahead at the ship in the harbor. "I will do what I can to save the pawn's life," he promised, and then picked up his pace to walk ahead of her. The dismissal was clear.
She did not know how she offended him, but she would find a way to apologize after he had calmed down. Her heart ached thinking that she had said something to hurt him, though she did not understand why she should care. He was an ally, not a friend. She decided her guilt was merely out of worry. If she offended him too much, she may be liable to lose an asset. It was nothing more than fostering a good working relationship.
Ove filled Law's position beside her once they reached the ship. To her surprise, he extended a hand to help her into the ship. Despite her mistrust, she took the offered help and began to climb abroad.
"I hope your stomach is strong enough for this, Lady Nami," he whispered, a dark shadow in his eyes.
Her stomach flipped with unease that made her question if it was strong enough to witness the extent of Kid's rage. She swallowed thickly and gave Ove a curt nod. She would hold herself together. She had seen men and women strung up and tortured in Tingstad. She had seen homes lit on fire with people barred inside in Francia. She had seen her fair share of atrocities. What Kid did to his enemies would not be a pleasant sight, but it would be no different from what any other jarl or king would do in war.
Enel took her to stand at the prow of the ship with him. Ove and Law joined her, while Ohm took to the steering oar. Satori plopped onto a chest by the mast and called out to the oarsmen as they pushed away from the docks. Nami fidgeted uneasily as she leaned against the wale, staring out at the narrow fjord as the ship sliced through the water.
The king focused on the waters as they moved into the strait. He climbed onto the serpent's head and squinted off into the distance in search of McKinley's ship.
They had sailed for nearly an hour when Enel called out for Ohm to steer them toward the east. Nami looked ahead, noticed the open sails of a ship peek over an outcropping of rocks on the Svear coastline to their east. Law stepped forward as they rounded the bend, eager to see the condition of Enel's men.
She could not see well from their distance. She could make out no silhouettes of men on board. She knew something was there when she heard Enel hum and glanced up at his cruel smile. Law chuckled beside her and she scrutinized every inch of the ship for what she missed.
When she spotted the man that hung from the figurehead, she stepped back and clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle her gasp.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Ove stood behind her, watching her, but she did not think anything of his presence as she willed her body to remain still. Tremors raced through as she stared at McKinley's limp form. His face was unrecognizable. He was so badly beaten, his face had swelled to the point she could not distinguish any of his features, save for the dark, bloody maw where his mouth should be. His tan skin was bruised a dark purple that it was nearly black. He had been bound with rope, his hands nailed over his head.
"Crucifixion," Enel mused. "How amusing he would sacrifice these men in such a way."
"Sacrifice?" she said, her voice a high squeak. "I thought you said they would return alive?"
"And they are alive," Law said as the ship came up alongside McKinley's. He pointed to the men bound and nailed to the mast and posts in the hull of the ship. One strained to lift his head as he panted and groaned in pain. "Barely," he added as he climbed onto the wale to leap over to the other ship. He went to a man and pressed a finger to his neck, above his pulse point, and glowered. "This one will not survive the night," he mused loud enough for them to hear before moving onto another to assess them. "I can not promise a good prognosis for any of these men," he said as he made his way to the prow to lean over and examine McKinley. "This one is in the most danger of death. I will need to treat him first if he is to have any chance of survival."
"Get them down," Enel called out.
"Be careful with McKinley," Law added. "One wrong move, and he will fall into the water and die."
Nami's hands would not stop shaking as she watched Enel's priests and men climb onto the other ship to pull the nails from their comrades' hands. They had to move the ship so that the figurehead hung over their hull as they pried at the nails in McKinley's hands. She wanted to help. She wanted to ease the suffering of those that were caught up in a war they should have no part in. Ove gripped tight to her shoulder and held her in place when she moved to catch McKinley as he fell abroad their ship. His body landed with a sickening thud. He did not move or make a sound to signal how much pain he should be in. She feared that it was already too late for him.
"This is that man's true nature," Ove whispered to her as she stared helplessly while Law rushed to staunch the wounds in McKinley's chest. Nami lost all breath at Ove's low Frankish growl. "There is no turning back for him. He will not cower, he will not hesitate. He will do much and more if it means he can have you back. He has claimed you for himself. Any who get in his way will meet this fate or worse."
She looked up at Ove in surprise. She could not read his expression, could not fathom what he was saying. She had not expected him to know Frankish. That meant he knew… everything.
"Choose your next move wisely," he warned. "See that the man you send to his death is the right one."
She swallowed the lump in her throat as her body went cold. The hard set of his gaze told her to be careful of what she said or did there. Enel was near, watching them both. They were both in grave danger with the words he just spoke.
Nami gave Ove a stuttered nod and drew away from him to catch her breath. Enel came toward them while she willed herself to calm, his bored gaze hiding whatever suspicions he might hold for their exchange.
"I heard one of the conscious ones say Jarl Eustass is solely responsible for the slaughter," he said, pointing toward the men laid out on the other ship. Ohm had directed his oarsmen to help bind whatever wounds they could while Law treated McKinley's more severe injuries. They would stabilize the men who might have a chance to survive before setting back to Oslo. "He said the wolf was mad with rage."
"Did he return them to you with a message?" she dared to ask.
Enel chuckled, but it was Ove who answered.
"Look at his legs," he said, nodding toward McKinley. His legs were twisted unnaturally at the knee. Blood soaked his trousers, and she thought she saw a creamy sliver of bone poke out from the torn wool. "He shattered them."
"A poetic way to refuse my offer of subjugation," Enel said. "It is difficult to kneel when one does not have knees." He waved toward Ohm. "Tie the ships together. We will tow them back to Oslo before they parish."
As the men rushed to get them underway for the trip back, Nami stared at Law's back as he examined McKinley's battered face. Kid had done this. Kid had done all of this. He had slaughtered sixteen men, and five more remained on the cusp of death. This was what happened when he was angered. This was what happened when someone dared to take her away.
A cold chill trickled down her spine. Ice water that nearly made her doubt the path she had chosen.
She refused to listen to that voice. She had known from the beginning that Kid was not kind, not to his enemies. She knew that this was in his nature. But it was not everything. She knew what else he held beneath the surface. She knew his anger was born from far more than just wounded pride and possessive desire to claim her again, even if he, himself, said that was what fueled his rage. She knew that he was upset at the loss of his people, the ruin of his village. He feared for his family and his friends, the people who stood at his side, fought for him, laughed with him, believed in him. His wrath was to protect them all. His anger had just cause.
She could lessen the damage he wrought. She could contain how many were lost in his rampage. And when it was over, she could soothe the beast and see the man she had come to know, the man she cared for and desired.
She stepped toward Law as the oars began to churn and pull them back to Oslo.
"Tell me how to help," she demanded.
He glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowed in thought. "You wish to help?"
She nodded and stood firm as he silently questioned her resolve.
"It will be a long surgery," he said. "He may not survive it."
She pursed her lips but refused to change her mind.
Law turned forward with a sigh and she feared he might dismiss her. "I could use the extra hands. Do not expect to get any sleep tonight."
She rolled up her sleeves and kneeled at his side. Law glanced at her from the corner of his eye, uncertainty in his gaze. Despite his doubts, she was determined to help. Even if she had to get blood on her hands, she would do what she felt was right.
"Just tell me what to do."
A/N: Wow, I wrote this in less than a week. I think the short chapters will definitely help get my schedule back on track.
Only references to make note of: At Ragnarok, humanity and a handful of the gods will survive by hiding within Yggdrasil. The tree shifting to hide Kid and Nami was a reference to that (I imagine the tree as a sentient being, tbh). The serpent, Nidhogg, is also called malice striker - suitable afterlife for any that die at Kid's hand. Nastrond is the lowest pits of Helheim, thought to be in the roots of Yggdrasil, somewhere. It is where the vilest lawbreakers (murderers, rapists, adulterers, etc) are said to go when they die, to have their corpses chewed on by Nidhogg and all other manner of snakes and wolves within that realm.
I'm not sure if I wrote Kid's berserker rage well enough to convey how his madness effects the way he fights. It's all very chaotic and fast and his rational mind doesn't quite register every little detail except for who is moving around him. It's a trance-like state of pure fury, where no one is safe from attack. Because of its danger, there was once a specific law in Iceland that made it a crime to fight and kill in that state.
And I think I warned before that I might allude more to Enel x Nami in this, so hopefully you don't mind the twisted sort of affection I write into their interactions. I firmly believe that if Enel had a chance to spend more time with Nami in canon, he would have developed a strange sort of adoration for her. Between her willingness to give in to fear for her own survival that made him 'respect' her wisdom, and her weather-manipulation abilities that he did state were impressive, he'd probably be really fond of her if he just stopped... ya know... trying to kill literally everyone, lol. I mean, if he saw what she was doing in canon now, oh yeah, he'd probably be crazy impressed and maybe try to steal her again because just imagine the combined damage they could do with their lightning. They could destroy the world together. In Enel's screwed up mind, that is a perfectly romantic date idea, lol.
But yeah, hope you guys are okay with the strange fluff between them (if you can call it that). It will not last.
Oh, and I giggled every time someone left a review about Nami's dreams and how they wished she and Kid could communicate in them, somehow. Kudos to those that commented on that - you totally predicted a plot point. Good job.