Warning: Graphic descriptions of gore, brief mention of rape.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters, they belong to Eiichiro Oda.
Character of One's Heart
Law had not lied when he warned the surgery would be long. Nami would not be deterred, no matter how many hours they labored over McKinley to keep him alive.
She led the procession into the hall and hollered orders at the women to gather everything Law needed in the other unused guest room, and to sweep away as much of the dust and grime and cobwebs as they could while the men slowly hefted McKinley and his men from the ships. McKinley's care would take precedence for Law, the other four would be placed in the front room to be seen to by Enel's healers.
Law grumbled about a lack of proper supplies as he assessed the room he would work in, so Nami ordered Conis to fetch his things from his home. She bid her to sprint if she had to, faster than Enel's best horses. Not a second could be wasted. In the meantime, Law called for fresh boiled water, the sharpest knives they could find, whet stones to sharpen them further, clean linen, straight wood for splints, smoldering coals and clean iron to heat, and their strongest bone needles and thread. He would make do with what he could until Conis returned with his things.
While Nami helped the men get McKinley onto a table, Law shed his blood-soaked gloves and rolled up his sleeves. She caught a glimpse of black ink painted over his forearms and hands, but had no time to ask about the tattoos as she helped Law tear away McKinley's tattered clothes and armor.
Some of Kid's blows had sliced through thick leather and hide as cleanly as they would have cut living flesh. If McKinley had not worn armor, he would have died from his wounds long before they found the ship.
"This one is the worst," Law muttered as he fingered the gash in McKinley's side. She would have thought that the wound in his shoulder was the worst. The flesh was tattered and shredded, and she had no doubt that Kid had torn sinew and scraped the bone with that wound. But then she watched Law's fingers disappear into the gash he had assessed, his lips tugged down in a stern frown. "Broth," he snapped to one of the servants, "with as many onions as you can spare."
Nami realized what worried him about that wound as the servants rushed out to prepare the broth. The onions would create a strong odor. If they could get McKinley to drink it, any wound in his stomach would leak and smell of the broth. If his stomach was cut, he would not survive for much longer.
While they waited for the broth, Law tightly bound McKinley's gut and then set to work on the shoulder wound. He cut away damaged tissue, had Nami hold the flesh open so he could stick his fingers into McKinley's chest and feel what else was damaged. He laughed suddenly and pulled his fingers from the wound, letting them hang there as they dripped with thick blood.
"I'll need tweezers if anyone would spare some," he said to one of the women.
"What is it?" Nami asked as she unclipped the pair that hung from her own brooch.
"Keep the wound open," he ordered without answering her question. He settled against McKinley's chest, braced his arm as he gently slipped the tweezers into the wound. His smile hardly wavered as he moved them about. McKinley groaned but did not move or thrash at the invasive surgery. "He is in too much pain to feel any more," Law mused before his wide grin returned and he gradually slipped the tweezers out. A red sliver of something was trapped in them, tangled in stringy tissue. Law appeared fascinated by it, chuckled as he dipped it in the clean water, and held it up to examine closely. "He stabbed him so hard, he broke the tip of his knife," he said. "Judging by the damage to McKinley's face and legs, I suppose it was not enough to improve his mood."
Nami swallowed thickly as Law tossed the shard of metal away and returned to the wound. As he fished around McKinley's shoulder with the tweezers, Nami tried to focus on what he needed her to do so that McKinley might have a chance to be healed. She could not imagine the brutality Kid used in beating any of these men. She could not picture him enraged, filled with a wolf's fury as he sought his vengeance. It was hard enough seeing the results of his battle, it would be far worse to think of each strike, each slash, and the crippling pain they all endured.
Law pulled slivers of bone from McKinley's shoulder until he was satisfied that there would be nothing to hinder the wound's healing. He rinsed and flushed the wound with boiled water, sewed it shut, and moved on to the gash that worried him before. The broth was prepared, so he had Nami and another servant lift McKinley's head while Law perched a bowl of stinky broth at his lips. He worked slowly, patiently, to force McKinley to swallow one mouthful at a time, taking care not to spill the broth. When satisfied that he drank enough, Law examined the gash again.
He hummed as he pushed his fingers into McKinley's abdomen. Nami could see them moving, palpitating tissue, while Law hovered above and sniffed.
"Stomach is intact," he determined. "He was fortunate. Your gods must not want him."
She would not call that fortunate, not when he would likely suffer in life from that day forward. He would have been more fortunate if she had let him die, but she would give him a chance to live and perhaps serve a better purpose than the fodder Enel believed him to be.
"There is enough damaged viscera that he may bleed internally," Law said as he waved for her to hold the gash while he prepared another needle and thread. "I will have to cut him open again and drain the blood if that is the case, and he will likely still die if I cannot find the source of the bleeding."
Nami nodded in understanding. Even once they closed McKinley up, he would not be safe from death.
By the time Law had the gash flushed and sewn, Conis had returned with a box of his supplies. She was out of breath and collapsed into a chair the moment she set the box down. Then she noticed McKinley's body and the shattered knees that Law had saved for last. Her eyes widened, her shoulders heaved. She clasped a hand over her mouth, and Nami waved at Laki who had been watching nearby, waiting for commands but not actively helping. Nami could not blame her. McKinley had been one of her guards, he and his men had captured, tortured, and killed others from her tribe. Nami would not force her to help a man who had only brought ruin to her people.
"Get her out," Nami commanded Laki.
"Please," Law added in a muttered aside as he dug through his belongings. "I do not care to clean vomit from his wounds."
Laki grabbed Conis and practically carried the woman out. Nami heard Conis heave out in the corridor. Her unsteady stomach was likely due to the run through the village, though McKinley's twisted knees were an uncomfortable sight to behold. The damage bent his legs unnaturally. If he ever walked again, it would not be with ease.
Law pulled a large metal tin from his supplies, opened the lid, and nodded in approval. "I should have just enough," he said as he held it toward one of the servants. "Spread this liberally over his wounds. Take care not to disturb the threads. I will bind them once I'm done with his legs."
He waved for Nami to move down the table with him, leaving the torso to the servant. Law touched one of McKinley's knees and began to turn it. A pained groan escaped McKinley's throat and he struggled atop the table, arching and moving away from the servant.
"Ah, I forgot to mention. The poultice might sting a bit," Law said with a dark chuckle. He didn't seem to care a whit for his patient's discomfort. "Hold him still," he ordered the other women. "I cannot have him thrash while I'm working."
McKinley was surrounded on all sides by servant women, each one gently holding him down so that Law could examine his legs.
"Knife," he said, a hand held out in silent command. Nami snatched it from the table and placed it in his palm. "Hold the leg steady. Brace a hand on each side of his knee," he commanded while he poked and prodded the kneecap. Once she had her hands in place, Law cut into McKinley's knee. "Tweezers," he called once he had it open. A servant grabbed them and held them over to him. He slowly plucked slivers of shattered bone out of the knee, then took up the knife to open the joint further. He moved larger pieces to rest against what little was still intact, glowered a moment, then removed them entirely.
"Will he be able to walk again?" she dared to ask.
"No," he answered bluntly as he pushed on the largest piece of the kneecap and slipped it back into place with a sickening pop. "Perhaps if he dedicates himself to exercise, pretends that he is a babe taking his first steps again, he might be able to hobble about short distances with crutches."
He would be a cripple, nearly useless in battle, hobbled as a guard. She wondered what Enel might do with him then. He did not seem the type who would take pity on a crippled man.
She shook away her worries as Law switched to McKinley's lower leg. It had been broken in the strike, but Law reset it with a sharp push. The servants had brought smooth dowels for him to use as splints. Law had her hold them in place, keeping the leg stiff while he bound it tight. He sewed the knee shut, wrapped cloth tight around it, but was gentler with placing it over the joint itself.
"Fetch something to prop this leg with," he ordered a servant. "Pillow or furs, nothing too firm."
A minute later, they had a fur folded beneath McKinley's leg to keep it elevated, the knee slightly bent. With that leg done, Law switched sides with Nami to work on the other leg. He removed the shattered bone that would not mend itself, reset the broken bones, and then splinted and wrapped the limb. When he was finished with the legs, he moved back to the torso to inspect the poultice. McKinley's breathing was ragged, but steadier than it had been. He seemed to have fallen completely unconscious as they worked.
They wrapped McKinley's torso, and then Law set to work on the man's battered face. He prodded the swollen flesh, hummed in thought.
"Nose first," he muttered before taking his thumbs to press against each side of McKinley's broken nose. "Nami, hold his head steady."
She moved to the end of the table to brace McKinley's head, allowing Law to put all his leverage into snapping the crooked nose back into place. He had to do it three times before he was satisfied that it was as straight as it could be. The nose bled freely once it was set. Law tore up a linen cloth and shoved the ends into the nostrils, and then waved her away so he could examine the rest of McKinley's head.
"Broken orbital bone," he murmured as he pressed around the left eye. He peeled McKinley's eyelid back, hummed at the dark red and purple globe where the eye should be. "Have water and clean linen ready," he said as he snatched up his knife.
She grabbed what he needed while he cut away the clot to see what remained of the eye. Blood flowed from his eye like tears, streaking down his temple to drip on the table. Nami blotted away what she could without interfering with Law's work. In the end, there was no saving the eye. Kid had ruptured it with his blows, pulverized the eye beyond recognition. His other eye was damaged, the white turned red, but it remained intact and Law said that it should heal well enough that McKinley would retain his sight, imperfect though it may be.
The empty eye socket was washed and bound, poultice was applied to the cuts and scrapes on his cheek and jaw, his mouth was cleaned of broken and loose teeth, and then Law finished cleaning the smaller wounds sprinkled around McKinley's torso.
By the time he was done, Nami was exhausted and starved. She sent the servants to fetch them a meal and requested they find fresh clothes for Law to change into. Her dress was stained, as well, but she would change after she ate, and then get some rest while others watched over the injured soldiers.
The servants rushed off to follow her orders, leaving her alone with Law. She stretched her tense neck and shoulders. She had feared that any breath, any wrong movement might interfere with Law's work, or hurt McKinley further, and had grown stiff from the tension. Law did not seem to share the same discomfort as he casually wiped the blood from his hands. He appeared relaxed, despite the glower he wore while he stared at his patient. But this was normal for him. She was not practiced in healing.
"Thank you for you hard work, Corazon," she said in Frankish.
Law grunted, his frown deepened, and his gaze slid to her. "Are you certain it was wise to save this man? He will suffer a life of pain because of your wolf's torture."
She winced as her shoulder popped and then sagged forward to roll her neck. She refused to feel guilty for McKinley's suffering. She had seen that his life was spared, that was the mercy she gave him, but his hands were not clean. He was not innocent in the suffering his people endured under Enel's rule, he had imprisoned and overseen their beatings and executions. He carried out Enel's judgements, stoked the peoples' fears. His reasons may be just, but his actions were not.
"This is war," she reasoned. "He is fortunate to be alive at all. He chose the side he fights on, chose the king he serves. If he wished to avoid this fate, he should have considered the paths he took in life."
"I thought you lot clamored for a chance to die in battle, so that you could go to your gods and reside in their halls," he said.
"It is an honorable way to die, but it would be foolish to rush toward death," she explained. "Even Odin has said that it is better to be cripple than burning on a pyre. There is nothing a dead man can do. It is one thing to cower from battle, to save yourself and your limbs; it is another to fight courageously, or feign courage in the face of a greater foe, and come out with your life intact, even if your body is not. He and his men fought honorably, and now he has the opportunity to live honorably."
Law chuckled. "I see. Perhaps I was wrong to claim that your heart was soft. There is an edge to it if you can rationalize another man's torture." He knocked on the table beside McKinley's head, drawing her attention to the bruised mess hidden beneath bloodstained linen. "Though I cannot say the same for the man who did this. This is the work of a heartless beast."
Nami's ire was pricked at the insult in Law's tone. "I would never say that he is heartless, nor is he a beast. He is a man capable of brutal acts, and I do not think you are in the position to judge him." He glared, and she leaned over the table to glare back. "You were exiled for murder, were you not? I understand you beheaded your victim, cut his hands off, and sewed them where his head should be, stuck in very rude gestures for a far lesser offense. At least Kid did not crucify these men for pissing on his shoe."
Though she would not be surprised if he would. Men and their pride often drove them to do idiotic, barbaric things.
Law's lip curled into a sneer as he tossed his bloody linen onto the table. "That was not the reason I killed him," he hissed quietly. "It is the reason I gave, but it is not the reason he died. I am not so heartless as to murder a man for so little." He turned away, hiding his expression from her. "There was a family that was murdered at his hand, for no other reason than he was bored and felt insulted when the woman refused to entertain him. A Father. Mother. Two children. He tortured them. Made the children watch as he killed their father, raped their mother, and then had them meet the same fate." Her stomach rolled; she braced herself on the table and swallowed down bile. "He was in the king's favor because of his prowess in battle, his crimes would be overlooked. The Earl of Hedeby might have tried him, but I doubt she would want to war with her own king, not without extensive support. So, I hunted him to the border of Saxony, found him in a drunken revelry with his men. He did piss on my shoe, that much is true, but it is only because I put it there. He had wandered from his band, was vulnerable. They didn't even hear him shout before I slit his throat."
Nami gaped at the admission. She realized why he had reacted to her comment of being heartless. He had more heart and morality than others might see, more than even he might see within himself. It was twisted and dark and sadistic, but it held some sense of honor.
"I did not mean that you were heartless," she whispered as the servants returned with a clean tunic, soap, and fresh water for Law.
"I will need another basin," Law said as they set the water on a table, a clean yellow tunic beside it. "No water in it, and a bowl or cup to dip into the clean water."
Nami waited as they fetched what he needed, struggling against the urge to fidget as Law loosened his tunic. A single servant returned with the empty basin and a clean cup. She informed them that the morning meal would be ready shortly, bowed her head when Nami waved to dismiss her, and scampered off to see to their food.
"You need to wash, too," Law said as he shed his tunic, revealing more tattoos on his shoulders and chest and back.
She had not expected him to have so much decoration, least of all the hearts on his chest and shoulders. Most surprising were the white patches of skin that marred his darker complexion. They looked like old scars, but nothing like any she had seen. Some were too large and cleanly cut to be battle wounds, and some were in places that would have been fatal if skewered by a sword or arrow. He had mentioned a plague in his birthplace. Were the scars from that illness?
"Nami," Law called, snapping her from her inspection of his body. She shook her head to clear her curiosity and went to the basins when he waved her over. Once she was in reach, he grabbed her hands and held them over the empty basin, ladled water with the cup, and then poured it over her stained hands. "It's cleaner to wash this way," he explained when she furrowed her brows at him. He nodded to the soap while he poured water over his hands. "Muslims wash so that the same drop of water does not touch their skin twice. When you wash in still water, you are just sitting in filth and impurities."
She nodded in understanding as she scrubbed the blood from her fingers. As they washed in silence, Nami stole glances at Law, watched as he picked at the stains beneath his nails, and then helped rinse the soap from him so he could scrub his skin all over again.
She peeked at the heart on his chest, felt her own tighten at the strangely familiar swirl of black ink. Nojiko's was blue and much smaller, set just between her collarbones. The sight still kindled memories that made her chest ache as guilt gnawed on her conscience.
"Is something wrong?" he asked while he rinsed her hands and then his own.
"Your tattoos… I had not expected to see them on you," she said. "They remind me of someone." He grunted in response, but said nothing else, so she pressed on. "My sister." He glanced up, silently bid her to explain. She gestured to the heart on his chest. "She has a smaller heart, on her collar." She giggled. "Without the face in the middle."
His lips parted in surprise as he looked down at his chest.
"She had our village healer tattoo her after Arlong came. He had marked me." She reached up to grip her left shoulder. "I hated it. I thought that it ruined me, turned me into a monster just like him. She marked her own flesh in support of my sacrifices, and to remind me that I wasn't alone."
She cleared her throat and snatched the soap to scrub her hands. Law traced a finger over the black circle of the grinning face at the top of the large heart, and then silently returned to his washing.
"Mine is for my benefactor," he whispered. "The man who saved my life. The man who helped me find what little bit of a heart I still had left. My Corazon."
There was reverence in the way he spoke that word, that name. A love she was all too familiar with. She bowed her head and hid her smile. She felt that she understood why Loki had chosen this man to aid her, rather than any other healer in the world.
"What of the marks on your hands?" she dared to ask. "If the hearts are for your Corazon, what about the crosses and circles. And those letters? Are those another Latin dialect?"
"An Italian dialect," he said with a nod as he brushed his fingers over the markings. "Morte. Death. The round crosses on my hands are stigmata, the circles on my forearms are crowns of thorns—symbols of sacrifice. There is a saying in Latin—memento mori; remember that you must die. My tattoos are reminders of my mortality, as well as the mortality of all those I meet."
Her smile turned solemn. Such a grim reminder to bear on his skin, but if he had lost his family in a massacre, and then the man who later saved his life, she supposed death was all he knew, all he understood. And yet he studied to be a healer, to fight against death despite knowing it would always win in the end.
She took his hands to rinse the last of the soap and blood away. "As I said," she whispered, "I did not mean that you are heartless." She glanced up at his quizzical expression. "To wear death on your skin and still fight against it – you must have a very strong heart. I apologize for any offense I made."
Law's jaw slackened, but whatever response he intended to make was interrupted by a throat clearing behind her. His eyes shot up, and then narrowed in annoyance as he slipped his hands from hers. Ove stood in the door, his arms crossed and a stern glare set on Law.
Law cleared his throat. "No offense taken, Lady Nami," he said with false formality. "You should change and rest. It has been a long night."
She was exhausted, but she did not appreciate the interruption. She appreciated the judgement in Ove's gaze even less. She snatched up a linen towel to dry her hands while Law slipped into the borrowed yellow tunic.
"I will see that a sleeping pallet is arranged for you in here," Nami said to Law while she glared at Ove. "If you wish to return to your hovel, I will see what healers can be spared to watch McKinley in your stead."
Law grunted in response.
"Get some rest, Corazon," she said as she stormed toward the door. "And thank you again for your work."
She ignored his next responding grunt and came to a stop in front of Ove. He straightened his spine as she glared up at him. She was still uncertain where he stood in all that had happened. He spoke Frankish, he knew all she had schemed with Law, yet he had not spoken to Enel about it. And she suspected that he had taken Kamakiri as a slave for her sake more than his own. They had much to discuss and little time to do so. If he was there to guard her in Kid's stead, to aid her however she needed while spying on the king, then she had to know why he led her to believe otherwise.
But first, his obvious disapproval of her friendship with Law.
"Whatever you think is happening here," she hissed up at him, "you are wrong." His lip curled in a sneer, but she smacked his shoulder to quiet whatever rebuttal he had to make. "Quit growling at him. He is a strong and useful ally, do not ruin that for me."
She shoved by him and turned for the main hall. She needed to eat, and she needed to find a servant to see to Law's bedding. She could see thin streams of early morning light peeking through the rafters. They had worked through the night to save McKinley. They would all need to rest that day.
She made it two steps and ran directly into the king. She staggered back in surprise while a firm grip on her shoulder kept her steady and on her feet.
"Ah, excuse me, my lord." She bowed her head and held tight to her dress to keep her hands from trembling. Had he overheard the exchange with Ove? Did he listen to her conversation with Law? Not for the first time, she wondered if he feigned ignorance of other languages. What if he knew everything?
"I was just coming to see how McKinley fares," Enel said as he released her.
She took another step back. Ohm stood behind the king, his flat gaze fixed on her, but she could not read what he may be thinking. Enel at least wore a wry smile, though she knew better to think it was meant to be warm.
"Corazon finished a short time ago. I believe it is too soon to determine his fate, but for now he rests peacefully, so I trust he will recover in time," she said.
"Has he spoken at all?" Enel asked.
"No. He lost what little consciousness he had as Corazon worked."
"That is unfortunate, but I can wait for him to wake to learn what other messages Eustass sent with him." She flinched when he reached for her but forced herself to remain still as he brushed a hair from her face. "You look weary. You should rest today."
She found the energy to smile for him. "I was on my way to do that. I need to see to a sleeping pallet for Corazon, though. And I would like a good meal, myself."
"I will have them send your breakfast to your quarters. I have already informed the servants to treat Corazon as a guest. They will see to whatever he needs while he cares for his patient."
Relief flooded through her, which only made the full weight of her exhaustion settle onto her shoulders. She sagged forward with a long sigh. If Corazon was to be a guest in the hall, that meant he was safe for the time being, and perhaps it meant that Enel would not cast McKinley aside too quickly.
"Thank you, King Enel," she said, too tired to feel fear when he chuckled, or think to move away when he grasped her shoulder and turned her toward her quarters. His touch was gentle enough that she did not believe it to be a threat. "Ah, what of the other survivors? Are they resting well?"
"I freed them from their suffering," Ohm answered.
Nami straightened, gaping up at the priest. "You…"
Enel's hand tightened on her shoulder. "They were in pain, their legs were too damaged to be of use to them again, and they had no further information for me," he said without remorse. "They served their purpose and are no longer needed."
They killed them. They took the lives that Kid had spared. Enel's own men were not safe from him. She knew that she should not be surprised, yet still she found it too absurd to believe. Those men deserved some reward, some accommodation for facing his enemy and returning to them alive. They may be crippled, but even a cripple could knock an arrow from atop the wall and defend the hall from invasion.
McKinley may not be as safe as she thought he was.
"Do you disagree?" Enel asked.
She shook her head, tossed away her revulsion. This was for the best. If Enel killed his own men, then that saved Kid the trouble. Perhaps it could be used to her advantage, too. His militia may begin to question their loyalties if they realize how expendable they were to the king. Men did not often appreciate being used as fodder, their lives of little more value than a slave's.
"No," she said, forcing a smile. "I trust that your decision was the wisest." She turned her smile toward Ohm, hoped it looked as grateful as it should. "And I trust your priest spared them from further pain. They have earned a good rest."
"They will have it," Ohm said.
"And you deserve a rest," Enel said, chuckling as he nudged her back down the hall. "One that is less permanent, of course."
If he questioned why her laughter sounded false, she would blame it on her weariness.
"I will sleep for a few hours, but later I wish to practice my sight with you, King Enel," she said as he escorted her to the walkways outside.
"This afternoon, then," he agreed. "Rest well, Lady Nami."
She walked to her quarters alone, only the heavy weight of his gaze on her back to remind her that she must tread carefully. She could not make her next move too soon. She had asked much of him to spare Laki, and even if he did not care for his men's lives, this loss should test his patience if he began to suspect her loyalties lie elsewhere.
She would rest that day and return to the visage of an adoring lady that evening. When the time was right and the king sufficiently complacent, she would make her next move.
Enel watched as Nami made her way down the walkway to her room. She knew he watched judging by the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands dug into her skirts, but she resisted any urge to glance back at him. She tried so very hard to hide the extent of her fear, but even she must know it was futile. He saw everything. It was adorable how desperately she tried, though.
"My lord," Ohm whispered behind him, "what do you wish to do with McKinley?"
Enel slowly smiled. "You wish to free him, too," he said. A statement, not a question. His priest longed to free all of them from the constraints of life, from the pain and agony that came trapped in a mortal vessel. "Let him suffer a while longer. I will humor Lady Nami's need to save him. When she sees that he has no use for her, then you may do as you wish."
"May I ask, King Enel, why you give her so much freedom?" Ohm asked. Enel glanced at him, brow arched in his curiosity. "She is clearly working against you."
He chuckled. "Here I thought I was the only one to notice." He turned into the main hall when Nami's amber hair vanished inside. He nodded for Ohm to follow and took care to keep his voice low lest the mercenary be near to overhear their conversation. "I told it true when I said this is a test laid before me by the old gods. It is a game. I will be victorious in the end, but what amusement is to be gained if I win too easily? No matter how they guide her hand to move their pieces, I will have already prepared for my next move in anticipation. I will block them at every turn, and I will prove that I am truly greater than all the gods combined."
"And when you have found your victory, what will be done with her?"
They passed the guest room that now acted as a hospital for the exiled surgeon. Ove sat inside, growling in Frankish to Corazon, who did not appear the least amused with whatever lecture he was forced to hear. Corazon was haggard from a full night's work, his lips curled in a sneer as he hissed at his companion. Whatever alliances had been forged while he was away would not be easily kept if those two disliked each other so much.
Enel left them to their argument, whatever it may be, and carried on toward his throne with Ohm close behind. Satori and his brothers sat at a table awaiting their breakfast with eager anticipation. He left them be. His other priest had not questioned Nami's presence, or his favor of her. Satori thought her beneath him, even if his king spoiled her with attention none of the other priests received. She was the king's new entertainment, not a threat to be wary of. A grave mistake, but Enel would overlook the foolish ignorance of his priest. It would not harm him, after all.
He waved for Ohm to sit close as he reclined in his throne. His priest waited patiently as Enel signaled for a servant girl to bring him a plate of fruit and cup of ale for his own breakfast. He did not deign to answer his question until he had a bite of an apple and sip from his cup.
"When this war is through, she will be mine. Unequivocally," he said. "She will have no one left. Her very survival will hinge on binding herself to me. The woman is far from stupid, she will do whatever she must to cling to this life, no matter what corpses lay at her feet."
"And when she is bound to you?" Ohm asked.
"I will be a god and she will be my priestess, heralding in a new age in a new world, my true kingdom, the one I am due. I will rule over endless lands, rich soil and stone, gold and jewels unlike any we have ever seen in this northern wasteland. My empire will outshine all others, with a queen at the helm that embodies every treasure I claim, and the fear I strike in my people." He hid his sneer with his cup. "And when I have achieved that greatness, I will return to these lands and crush every heretic that dared to question my glory. All of Midgard will be mine."
Ohm remained silent for a long moment as he reflected on all that Enel had said. But eventually he shifted; Enel glanced sidelong at his dark frown. He knew that Ohm could not be particularly worried that the woman was a threat, he was merely more expedient about eliminating those that dared attempt to threaten him in any way.
"I understand that she is your cousin, distant though it may be, but why hold on to her after? You can find any woman to be your priestess, any man to be your priest. This woman does not revere you as she should. She works to undermine your authority as we speak. She deserves no place in your kingdom," Ohm said, surprisingly frank in his doubts.
Enel laughed at how little his priest saw. His interest in the woman had little to do with their relation, little to do with how he could use her once this game was done.
He set his fruit and ale aside and leaned toward Ohm. "Because she is precious," he whispered, chuckling when Ohm's brows knit in confusion. "Refresh my memory, Ohm, but what excuse does the warrior Wiper always give when he invades my lands? What were his reasons for refusing to kneel?"
His question did nothing to remove the priest's confusion, but he answered, his words slow and measured as he tried to make sense of what this had to do with his question. "For his ancestors," he said. "His pride as their descendant, as the one who carries Calgaras's berserker spirit, the one who protects his people."
Enel nodded sagely. "And for what reason will Jarl Eustass launch his attacks on me? For what reason does he refuse to pay my taxes?"
Ohm's brow knit tighter. "We attacked his people and took his woman. What does that have to do with the other?"
Enel slapped him on the back as he laughed harder. "Ah, don't you see? The reasons they give are not the true reasons they act out against me. They are fools who refuse to admit what truly drives them, what drives all mortal creatures. Pride. Anger. Desire. Lust. Those are nothing compared to the most basic emotion, the most basic force in their heart." Ohm still did not understand. "Fear," Enel explained and watched as understanding dawned on Ohm's face.
"Fear drives them all. Every war this world has seen has fear at its roots. The Christians and Hebrews and Muslims all fear that their book, their God, their saviors and messiahs and prophets will be replaced by another, that they are wrong. The Northmen fear that their livelihoods and ways will be lost as their trade routes are overtaken by Christians. The English fear that the French will seize their kingdoms, just as the Norse have, and the French fear the same of the Moors, and the Rus, and the Slavs, and the Mongols, and the Romans. They all fear the same thing, and thus they war and hate and murder each other," he explained. "Wiper fears that he and his people will be destroyed, that he will not live up to his ancestor's image, that his people will not respect him if he dares submit to a greater being. And Eustass…" He trailed off to laugh. "Why, his fear is the oldest, basest of them all, the one that has spurred more wars in this world than most men would be comfortable to admit. He may fear for his people's well-being, yes, but if that was the case, then he would be better served to submit. He may fear a loss of respect or sovereignty, but in that case, he would have attacked me the moment he learned of what had happened. No, that man fears something far greater, something that stalls him, something that makes him hesitate to act too rashly."
"He fears for his woman's life?" Ohm asked, prompting Enel to bark another loud laugh as he stood from his throne. He had Satori's attention now, as well as the attention of his guards and servants.
"His woman's life? Ha! Close, but no. I suspect he would rather see her die than what he fears most. He fears that he will lose her in a far worse way, and this fear is what drove all those men mad in the tales of Nami's foremothers. He fears that she will be possessed by another, claimed by another, and come to love that man more than she ever loved him."
"Then why not attack immediately?" Ohm asked. "If he fears that so much, then why allow Lady Nami to remain here another day?"
"Because he knows the stories, he knows what will happen if he acts rashly, and that is another thing he fears, all tangled up in his fears for her here. He fears his own failure." Enel grinned. "He is aware that this is a test, a game to prove who is greater, who is more deserved of glory. To the victor go the spoils."
"And Lady Nami is the spoils," Ohm said. "But what does this have to do with the favor you grant her? Why show her such leniency? Why humor her subterfuge?"
Enel's amusement waned. "Because… she is precious." His response did not appease Ohm. "She fears me."
"She is not the only one," Ohm reminded with a wave around the room. "We all fear you."
Enel hummed. "You do, but her fear is…" He pursed his lips in thought. "It is genuine. Unlike my other enemies, she does not pretend that her fear is something else. She acknowledges that she is afraid, though she may try to hide how it makes her tremble. She acknowledges that her actions are driven by her fear. She embodies fear in its truest, rawest form, and that fear is the fear that created the gods people venerate all over this world. Mortal minds needed a reason for the pestilence, the famine, the war, the death, for all the ills good men must face in such a cold, merciless world, for all that they cannot control. Fear itself is God. Her fear of me will make me the god I truly am." He smiled, pleased with his reason. "As long as she continues to fear me, I will continue to give her my favor, and humor her plots against me. Nothing she does will hinder me. Her fear will only grow stronger when she sees all that I am capable of."
He sank back down onto his throne as Ohm silently considered his words. Satori stirred at his table, cleared his throat. Enel waved for him to speak.
"What of you, King Enel?" Satori asked, a twisted smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
"What of me?" he asked as he picked up his cup for a deep drink of ale.
"What do you fear that drives you to war with these men?"
Enel glared at the priest. How dare he make such a claim?
"I mean…" Satori rushed to explain, a hand held up in apology. "You should have nothing to fear, yet you send us to battle and war with our neighbors. If it is not fear, then what are your reasons?"
Enel forced himself to relax. His priests were strong, but they did not have the insight he had, they did not understand the world as he did. They thought all wars were the same, but that was where they remained ignorant and misguided.
"I do not war," he said matter-of-factly. "I incite wars. I spark fear in the hearts of those who dare think to stand in my way. And with that fear and the wars conjured from it… I conquer."
A/N: Another short chapter, but more plot necessary stuff laid out.
Admittedly, a very LawNami sort of chapter, too, lol. I'm sure that makes some of you happy. As I said, this is not a love-triangle fic, at least not from Nami's point of view. Everyone else, on the other hand, well... Nami and Law could bicker and feud constantly, have no moments of warmth, and Kid will somehow still find a reason to be jealous, so misunderstandings are bound to happen.
With Law's tattoos - I had to find some way to explain them for this world and fit them to their religious connotations, so hopefully they make sense. For 'Death' on his fingers - in old English, it's six letters long. In fact, in most of the vulgar Latin languages it's about six letters, but since Law is from northern Italy, I figure I could use modern Italian and fudge when the Italian dialects began to evolve in the regions.
I will explain the scars another time, but they are related to his childhood illness.
I had a lot of fun going in to Enel's point of view and lending better insight into his thoughts about Nami, and the fact that, yes, he is very much aware of what she is up to. I hadn't entirely planned to give his side, but inspiration was sparked. I'll do more points of view with him later, too. And, tbh, Enel has a very good point when he says that 'Fear is God' - the concept of gods is rooted in explaining a world that could not yet be explained, good and bad, and giving reason to all that happens beyond our control, and perhaps lends a bit of control by giving humans some powerful entity to request help from when they have no idea if they have the power themselves.
Anyway, thank you everyone for your reviews after the last two chapters! I really appreciate them. XD