Rating: Strong T, because Impel Down and life under the Celestial Dragons does not make for a life full of sunshine and rainbows. Also, it's a prequel. You can't expect happy things in a prequel.
Time Frame: AU, taking place before the events in chapter 17
Spoilers: Some general stuff if you're not past Marineford in the manga. Nothing specific
Summary: For want of a nail, a kingdom was lost. Six "what-ifs" written in response to Aoi24's challenge.
It was impossible, but the nightmare got worse.
The Tree of Knowledge had already been set on fire, the professor had already been shot, Mother had already decided to stay behind, the evacuation ship had already been blow up, Saul had already been killed, and somehow things managed to get worse.
She was going to die.
That was the only coherent thought Robin could manage as the warship bearing the mark of the World Government loomed ahead. She was going to die, unable to keep her promise to her mother and Saul, or learn the truth her teachers died for. Robin waited, sitting like a lame duck in the little boat the ice-man had provided, surrounded by water that was just as much an enemy as the marines. She didn't want to die, not before learning the True History, but what could she do? It wasn't as if Robin possessed the strength to destroy warships, and there was a small, angry part of her mind that insisted if she was to be killed, it should be done with at least some semblance of dignity.
Even though the ship was still a good distance away Robin could see one marine standing at the helm staring at her. He was tall, his facial features hidden in the shadow of a hood. His aura of power was so strong that just looking at him made her shake uncontrollably. Closer and closer the ship came until Robin noticed that the man was making a strange gesture, his hands changing colors.
With heavy realization, Robin wondered if the ice-man wasn't the only marine with a Devil Fruit.
The air went dry. The marine on the ship cocked back his arm as if he were going to throw a punch, arm dripping with a substance that looked like lava. Tears began to streak down Robin's face as terror and panic threatened to tear her apart. She couldn't move, paralyzed by with the knowledge that this was the end. Ohara was no more; all that awaited was oblivion.
"There's been enough death today."
Behind her, there was a rush of cold that sent goose bumps all the way down her spine. Robin forced herself to turn her head, just in time to see the ice-man—the marine Saul called Kuzan—standing on the water, half of his body covered in armor made of ice.
"Get out of the way!" the marine on the warship shouted. "What do you think you're doing?!"
The ice-man didn't reply. Walking very slowly, he approached Robin's small boat. After a second of hesitation he stepped aboard, his face an unreadable mask.
"Please," Robin whispered, backing up until her legs touched the side of the ship. She hated her hopeless tone, and didn't even know what she was supposed to be asking the marine who had killed Saul. Eyes hidden behind his round sunglasses, the ice-man looked up at his comrade.
The marine with the hood was furious. He was yelling at the ice-man, but Robin couldn't focus enough to make out the words. Her entire attention was on the man in front of her. He was so tall, making Robin feel tiny and insignificant in comparison. Saul had never made her feel like that, even though he had been many times bigger and possessed the strength to singlehandedly lift a ship out of the ocean.
Pushing Robin aside, the ice-man put his hand to the water. Again he paused, letting out a heavy sigh and activating his Devil Fruit.
"Ice Age."
In an instant the ocean was frozen solid. Eyes wide at the incredible display of power, Robin slid to the ground. The ice-man nodded at his handiwork and looked at the warship.
"That will hold for a while even if he tries to melt it."
Robin followed his gaze. The marine warship was completely immobilized, frozen along with the sea into a solid block. Amazingly their little boat was still free, and the ice-man pushed away from the mass into open water.
"You won't get away with this!"
The ice-man's head shot up, alerted by the threat. A glowing red ball was launched from the marine ship, shooting like a comet through the night sky.
A low growl escaped from the ice-man's throat and he put his arms out in front of him, using his own power to intercept the attack in midair. He spared a small glance at Robin and grimaced. "We need to get out of his range."
Robin nodded numbly and helped him direct the boat away from the angry marine with the power over magma. A few times the ice-man was forced to defend them, until finally they were far away from their pursuer.
Trembling, Robin collapsed onto one of the benches. It didn't make sense. The ice-man told her he would be an enemy. He told her that after using his power to kill one of his friends in the name of a justice Robin would never understand.
Why was he saving her? Was it some sort of elaborate trap? No, that couldn't be right. The World Government wanted the archeologists dead. The magma-man hadn't been faking his attacks; he aimed to kill.
Then why? Why kill Saul only to set her free? Why threaten her with capture only to save her from certain death? It didn't make sense.
Faced with unanswerable questions and the loss of everything she had ever known, Robin covered her eyes with her hands and began to sob.
Robin curled into the corner of her cell, wishing she could die. They called Impel Down Hell on Earth, but in reality it was worse. The blood of untold prisoners seeped into its foundations. The stones themselves seemed to cry out in agony, waiting for a release that would never come.
This was a cursed place.
A fog of huger and numbness clouded her thought process. It had only been a week since her capture (at least, that's what Robin was told. It felt like she had been here a million years) and she had already given up on escape. It took all her energy just to survive. Barring a prison riot or some sort of outside attack, Robin knew she would never see the light of day again. There was no escape from Impel Down, except through death.
"There's no point in fighting it," a low voice rumbled. "Just give him what he wants. You're torturing yourself."
Robin flinched as she looked up at the massive behemoth that was the Chief Guard. He didn't even look human. Demonic horns sprouted from his head and dark, and bat-like wings pulled through his uniform. If you looked closely enough, a faint sheen of purple could be seen glistening on his forehead, and there was something…wrong with his breath that made her lungs tighten uncomfortably.
"This is Level 6. Your crimes have been deemed so heinous your very existence must be wiped from history. Give up. Ohara must be forgotten."
Curling up tighter, Robin shook her head. She refused to do what he said. She couldn't. Being forgotten was worse than death. It was oblivion. She had to survive, to remember, otherwise Ohara's sacrifice would be gone.
"Please, you don't understand his power. Resistance will get you nowhere."
An incredulous snort escaped Robin. She didn't need to know the Vice Warden's power to know what he wanted was wrong. A violation. The Chief Guard knew she understood that, yet he kept asking her to give up.
"Why?" he asked softly.
Robin ignored the pleading question. Her mind was already beginning to wander to the safe place deep inside. It was the only thing left that was truly hers, and they wanted to take it away. She didn't know what would happen if they did that. She'd probably go insane.
The sharp sound of boots against stone brought her crashing back to reality. A key turned, and her cell door opened. Robin buried her head farther in her arms, hoping the intruder would just go away. He didn't. Malicious energy filled the prison cell as he walked closer. Vice Warden Lin stopped right in front of the girl, looming over her. Robin forced herself to look at him, noticing how perfectly clean and shiny his boots were despite the filth of the prison.
Unlike the Chief Guard, the Vice Warden looked very nearly like a normal human being. Average height. Muscular, but not overly so. Reddish hair kept short and neatly parted. All in all he was perfectly normal.
Except for his eyes. Those were so dark they were nearly black, cold as ice and cruel.
When he saw she was looking at him the Vice Warden crouched down and made an expression that might have been a smile. It made him look like a shark. "Good evening, Little Nico. Are you ready for our session tonight?"
"Sir…"
"Be silent, Magellen. Can't you see I'm working?" Shaking his head, the Vice Warden looked at Robin again. "Answer the question, Demon."
Robin spat on his boots.
For a brief moment the Vice Warden's face contorted into fury, before he forced the unnatural smile back in place. "All right. If that's how you want to play, so be it. Just don't complain if it isn't as pleasant as before."
The Vice Warden grabbed her, his cold hand wrapping around her forehead as he activated his Devil Fruit. Robin whimpered as the mental assault mercilessly pounded against the defenses that surrounded her mind. It hurt, like spikes were being shoved into her brain over and over again, but Robin didn't let him in. She didn't know what the Vice Warden would do with her mind once he got there, but that didn't matter. Her mind was hers. He had no right to take that away. The Vice Warden let out a breathy chuckle.
"Tut tut, Little Nico. Just stop fighting and it will all be over."
Robin steeled herself, ready to resist as he started pushing a little harder, sending the mental probes deeper into her consciousness. She couldn't do as he said. She was the last Oharan scholar. She couldn't give up.
"No."
There was a strange tugging sensation in the depths of her consciousness, and everything faded into blackness.
Xxx
Robin awoke in her library. She stood, smiling. All of her aches and pains had melted away, and she was surrounded by knowledge and memories. The smell of book dust and ink filled the air, and the furniture just the right size for her nine year old body. Robin knew if she picked a book from the shelves the print would be just as perfect.
She took a few tentative steps, eyes flickering to the heavily barred door. It was cracked and splintered, and the chairs she sat against it leaned precariously. The likelihood of it withstanding much more abuse was slim, but she couldn't get it fixed. That would mean going out where he was, which would be suicide. No, better to stay where she was warm and comfortable and surrounded by what she loved.
An open book caught her eye. Walking over, she looked at the title and smiled again. Brag Men. It was one of her favorites, and by now she had it memorized. The enthralling tales of fantastical faraway places were a welcome distraction, and the familiar words were comforting in their own right. It told of a world of elves and fairies and magic with happy endings for everybody, where all the bad people eventually got their comeuppance.
Robin snorted. She had read once that fairies were real, but they were very small and shy. She turned the page, and the illustration that headed the chapter about giants seemed to stare at her. The picture almost looked like Saul, with a big beard and outlandish grin. Fondly Robin traced the caption, The Giants of Little Garden.
Don' think I'm like those barbaric Elbaf giants. There're some peaceful giant races, too.
Desire to read suddenly gone, Robin snapped the book closed and looked for a spot on the shelves to place it. Her library wasn't nearly as large as the Tree of Knowledge's, although it did hold quite a bit considering her age, and there were plenty of empty shelves just waiting to be filled.
The best part was it was all hers.
She made it to the shelves before she heard the faint rumbles that signaled an incoming attack. Panicking, Robin huddled between two giant bookcases, covering her ears with her hands.
A deep thud pounded at the door, again and again. Robin could feel it in her bones as he struck against her defenses, doing everything possible to enter when all she wanted was him to get out, out, out.
But his attacks were stronger today, or possibly she had simply been weakened to the point where it was impossible to keep him away. Whatever the case, the door to the library began to snap and splinter under the force of the invader. The chairs Robin had painstakingly placed in the way only delayed the inevitable, and before long there was a mighty crash as he forced his way in.
"No," Robin whispered.
"I know you're in here, little Nico," Vice Warden Lin's called in a condescending tone. "It would be simpler if you just gave me what I wanted."
There was the sound of wood collapsing against stone as the Vice Warden knocked over one of her bookshelves. Anger lanced through Robin. How dare he? This was her mind, her only sanctuary since being imprisoned. What gave him the right to be here? Scrambling to her feet, she rushed around the corner.
Robin nearly lost her nerve when she saw him. The Vice Warden was evil, and only knew how to hurt and destroy. But the thought of him using his power to steal what was hers gave Robin the strength to plow into him at the knees, using her low center of gravity and momentum to knock him down.
"Get out!" Robin shouted, hitting and scratching at him wildly. "You're not wanted here!"
One of the Vice Warden's hands shot out, grabbing Robin's arm with the enough force to bruise. He threw her off of him and pinned her on the ground. Pressing her face against the stone floor he laughed his cruel, dark laugh.
"Found you," the Vice Warden panted, a twisted smirk spreading across his face. "Now I'll ask politely one more time, Demon. Tell me about the ancient weapons!"
"I told you I don't know!" Robin cried. "All the archeologist wanted to do was learn history!"
The Vice Warden wrenched Robin's arm back father, shooting pain through her shoulder and making her whimper. "Filthy, disgusting, little liar. The answer's in here; I just have to find it."
"No, don't! Please, I'll do what you want, just leave them alone!"
"You have no right to negotiate, Demon," the Vice Warden said as he smacked Robin's head hard enough to make her ears ring. He stood up and scanned the shelves, ignoring Robin as she curled in on herself. "The question is where to start."
Be careful when you rampage. The contents of these shelves are more valuable than you can possibly imagine.
Walking over to a bookcase, the Vice Warden picked a tome at random and began flipping through the pages. Robin shuddered at the invasion, a sick feeling twisting through her stomach.
"Stop." The word sounded more like a plea than a command. "They're mine. You can't take them."
"Be silent, Demon. You forfeited the right to your memories when you threw your lot in with the rest of the monsters of Ohara."
Vice Warden Lin tossed the book to the ground and kicked it away. Robin bit back a groan as her vision swam, a confusing flash of old memories—Ohara, mother, the Buster Call—shooting through her head. If she was a demon, what did that make him? He was using his Devil Fruit to tear her memories from her, discarding what he didn't want as if it were trash. Anger and hatred rolled together, giving Robin strength. She struggled to her feet, and even though she wasn't certain she could support her own body weight, Robin glared as the Vice Warden selected another book.
"Get. Out." Robin's voice was icy and alien to her ears, and it made the man pause.
"What's this?" he asked to himself. "You have a little fight left after all?"
Robin took a staggering step forward, then another, until she was face to face with the Vice Warden. "I said GET OUT!" she screamed, and pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled and tripped over the bookshelf he had knocked down earlier, and fell out the open door of her library.
Grasping one of the bookcases for support, Robin waited for him to come back. When he didn't, she collapsed to her knees and let out a cry of relief.
I'm so proud of you.
How long she stayed on the ground, weak with exhaustion and the joy that he was gone, Robin couldn't say. Eventually she forced herself back to her feet and mechanically put her library back into order. The end result wasn't quite as perfect as before—the shelf was a little crooked and the door still broken—but it was the best she could do for now.
Pulling out one of her books, Robin sat at the table and waited for the awful moment he would come back and she would have to start all over again.
In theory her grand idea of running to the East Blue had been immensely clever, brilliant even. As a general rule the East Blue's pirate population wasn't considered much of a threat, and as a result their government bases received less funding and their marines less training. Logic said that surviving would be easier in the East.
In reality deciding to cross waters had been horribly stupid and was probably going to kill her.
Nico Robin was not well. She was so unwell she could hardly stand, let alone scrounge the energy to find a pirate crew to join. The journey over the Red Line had been more complicated and arduous then she ever could have imagined, and now the thirteen year-old outlaw was paying the price for her foolish mistake. She needed food, water, and shelter, and as Robin drifted along the ocean in a little fishing vessel she knew that finding any of those things was highly unlikely.
Between drifting in and out of a restless sleep, Robin did her best to stay on course. After a day and a half of sailing an island came into view. It didn't look all that large, but she didn't care. It was something. She could take some time to regain her strength and then continue her journey as planned.
Robin used the last of her energy to pull her boat to shore, hiding it beneath some brush. Swaying on her feet, Robin headed for the cover that the woods offered and slid listlessly against a tree trunk, nearly falling asleep before she hit the ground.
Xxx
The crawling sensation of a beetle walking up her arm made Robin jerk awake. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, and with a start she realized she had slept the whole night through, as well as a good portion of the morning.
That was frightening. Robin rarely slept more than three or four hours at a time. If she had managed to fall into a dreamless slumber for that long she must be worse off than originally thought. Cautiously Robin stood, wincing as she tried to work out some of the stiffness that came with sleeping against the trunk of a tree.
Robin's stomach let out a loud growl and cramped painfully. The hunger was almost worse than the bone-dry feeling in the back of her throat. She was growing again, and even under normal circumstances it was hard to eat enough to satisfy her increasingly gangly body.
"All right," Robin told herself, "I know. Water first, then food."
Her stomach disagreed with her priorities, and the sharp, gnawing pain worsened. Doubling over, Robin took a deep breath to keep from crying out. After a moment it faded into something manageable, and she righted herself, staring determinedly ahead.
"Water first," she repeated, and walked slowly to where she remembered seeing a town.
Robin hadn't walked long when stumbled across a well and drank her fill of the cool, refreshing liquid greedily. With her mind a little bit clearer, Robin set off to pacify her stomach.
As Robin staked out the market she realized that gathering food would be more difficult than usual. The village was tiny, and visitors would stick out like a sore thumb. Robin couldn't allow herself to be recognized, not when she was in such a weakened state. She saw no marines, but a mob was just as deadly and twice as eager to kill.
Under normal circumstances Robin simply would have used her power to steal enough to hold her over to the next location. However, the energy she recovered overnight was quickly fading, and Robin couldn't her concentrate her Devil Fruit over the distance that was required.
So the market was out. Next she tried the farms but was equally unsuccessful. One was surrounded by a high fence, another had guard dogs. Robin was torn between risking the dogs and going back to the forest for a nap when a woman with a punkish haircut and a basketful of tangerines caught her eye.
The fruit looked delicious.
It took a considerable effort to keep from attacking the woman right then and there, but Robin managed to control herself, staying completely out of sight and using her eyes to keep from losing her. The woman wandered up a winding path while humming a jaunty tune, completely unaware that she was leading a thief to her home.
Even sprouting eyes was draining, and between her power and the uphill walk Robin almost didn't make it to the farm. She was glad she did, though, because it was a criminal's dream. There was no fence or animals. In fact, there was seemingly no security at all around the flourishing grove of trees.
Hunkering down, Robin watched as the woman entered her slightly decrepit home and was greeted by two little girls, one barely out of toddlerhood and the other only a few years older. The woman grinned behind a cigarette before setting down her basket and giving the both of them a strong hug.
A familiar pain welled within Robin that had nothing to do with her hunger. For a moment she hated the two children for having what she never could. She quickly banished those thoughts, ashamed of herself. It wasn't their fault Robin was cursed with darkness and was doomed to a life of misery.
As the woman gathered her baskets and shooed the girls inside Robin knew she had a perfect chance to act, but for some reason couldn't make herself take the food. She tried to rationalize it by saying there was still a chance there was some unseen defense that would thwart her attempt, but those were just empty words. Robin tried to convince herself that her hesitation was because the woman and her family were so obviously poor, and stealing from them might be the difference between survival and starvation.
But that was a lie, too. Robin had done much, much worse over the last five years, and if she didn't eat she would be the one who starved. It would be perfectly simple, yet Robin could not move forward.
It was them, then. The sickenly happy family who she was now spying on kept her from doing what was needed to be done.
Leaning back and using her eyes to look in the house, she sighed. Robin knew she would steal the tangerines, just…not yet. Tomorrow, early in the morning before anyone was awake, she would take what she needed. Right now she wanted to try and soak up what they had, something that was more important than food and rarer than gold. Something Robin had only tasted a few times before, and not for many years.
It didn't take long until Robin fell asleep, still enticed by the alien love that shone between the woman and her two daughters.
Mariejois was on fire.
Robin could smell it, noxious smoke that brought back nightmares of Ohara. She could hear it, screams of slaves and free men alike as the world around them descended into chaos. She could even feel it, a primal terror in the very core of her being that told her she needed to escape now, or she would be burned alive.
Robin had been burned before. May times, in fact. If it came to that she hoped the smoke got her first. She had read once that asphyxiation was a much easier way to die. Less painful.
Forcing herself off of the hard infirmary cot Robin stumbled to the counter that held needles, thread, bandages, and other medical supplies that she was all-too familiar with. She had been receiving treatment from her latest punishment when the attack started. In lieu of a shirt, most of her torso was wrapped in bandages, the result of a beating she could only half-remember. The lack of modesty didn't bother her anymore—she was a slave, not even human, what modesty could she possibly have?—although the fact that her handlers hadn't finished with the treatment might be problematic. Robin could feel that her wounds continued to seep, and she was lightheaded with blood loss.
The lack of medical attention was the first sign that something big was happening on the outside. Robin knew that because of her criminal past and power she counted as a Unique Item. An investment. Handlers tried to keep investments in tact, even if the Celestial Dragons did not. Even so, all it had taken was one call on the den-den mushi before they abandoned her.
They locked the door behind them, of course, to keep her from trying to escape. They left her to die.
Robin knew she deserved such treatment and that her demise was inevitable. She had failed countless times since becoming a slave and been punished for each and every one. There was only so much a body could take before it fell apart, and she was at her limit. All she wanted was to see the sun one last time.
But first Robin would have to escape this room. The collar around her neck calibrated to shock her should she use her Devil Fruit kept her from even considering that course of action. Instead she improvised. The handlers left behind all of their equipment. From what was available maybe she could fashion some lock picks. It had been years, but Robin thought she still remembered…
The infirmary door burst inward, exploding off its hinges. Three girls in slave garb stood in the frame. Robin was immediately drawn to the one in the middle. Despite the rags she wore she was beautiful, with just as much pride in her eyes as a Dragon. The girl looked like a banished queen, and under her intense gaze Robin couldn't help but bow her head.
"Gah, where is it?!" the beautiful girl spat angrily, not sparing Robin a second glance.
"We'll find them, sister," one of the other girls assured her. "The keys have to be in this building."
"K-keys…? You're looking for the keys to the collars?" Robin asked fearfully. The middle girl whipped her head around, and Robin saw the metal ring around her neck for the first time.
The girl growled, her face twisting into something animalistic. She slammed Robin against the wall, making her back explode with pain. Dark blue eyes bored into her as Robin tried not to cry out. "You knowwhere they are? TELL ME!"
"Hancock, you're hurting her!"
"I don't care!" the girl, Hancock, snarled. "Tell me where the keys are, or I swear I'll kill you!"
Try as she might, Robin couldn't speak. She made a couple strained noises before the girl-slave dropped her in disgust. Black spots danced across her vision. The rough handling opened a wound, and rivulets of blood trickled from her back down her arm.
After a moment Hancock squatted down beside her, the anger replaced with a thoughtful look. "You also wear the marks of disobedience," she noted. "Tell me where the keys are, and my sisters and I will help you escape. The Kuja are always looking for strong warriors, and I count anyone who can survive this hell without breaking as strong."
Robin closed her eyes in shame. "I broke. I broke a long time ago," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"But you wear a collar. Only the highest-risk slaves wear a collar."
How could she explain? Once marked disobedient, a slave was always considered a risk. Robin tried desperately to escape years ago, when she was first sold. The worst of her scars resulted from those attempts. The collar wasn't truly necessary in her case, not anymore. It was just a vestige of what she had been. The Robin that lay on the floor now was only a ghost of that person.
"I broke a long time ago."
Hancock made a disgusted sound. "But you know where the keys are. Tell me."
Robin told. She recognized an order when she heard one, and nothing was going to get in the way of the Kuja and her freedom. After a quick nod Hancock stood and beckoned the other two girls.
"Come, sisters. We've wasted too much time here already."
"But what about…"
"We've wasted too much time here already," Hancock repeated, her voice hard. With a final haughty look, she swept out of the infirmary with the grace of a dancer, her sisters falling in step obediently.
When they left, Robin forced herself to her feet, leaning against the wall as the room spun around her. She staggered through the broken doorway, only to stop short when she saw the extent of the destruction.
It was more than an attack. It was rebellion. Just outside the infirmary was a dead man wearing the uniform of a handler, his head bashed in by a rock. Had Hancock done this? It seemed likely; the body was still warm. With trembling fingers Robin picked up the stone. It was dyed deep red with the man's blood.
The small part of her mind that was still thinking clearly noted his blood was just the same color as hers. There was no difference between them at all, except she had been branded by the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon and he had not. That brand was all that was needed to take away a person's identity. So long as Robin wore that mark the whole world would know she was nothing more than a piece of property, to be used and discarded at the whim of her masters.
"Hey, what's going on here?!" someone shouted. Robin spun, nearly falling over in the process. It was a member of the security team. He drug a slave-child with one hand and had a gun pointed at her with the other, fury burning in his eyes.
Robin was still holding the bloody rock, standing over a dead free man. "I-It's not what it looks like!" Robin said frantically, terror tearing through her body.
"Like hell it's not! Thought you'd try your hand at escape, too, bitch? Drop the weapon and put your hands over your head!"
Robin did as she was told, and the man stalked forward. He kept the gun trained on her, and Robin realized he was going to execute her right here and now.
Or he would have, except the child in his other hand bit him. The man screamed in pain and fired his gun wildly. Robin hardly felt it as the bullet tore through her arm. Without thinking she picked up the rock and hit him on the head as hard as she could. He staggered backwards, dropping both his gun and the child.
Robin froze as the man regained his wits. He slowly brought his hand up to the cut on his forehead where blood flowed freely, lips curling into a silent snarl. Panting, Robin dropped the stone, the adrenaline rush fading just as quickly as it had come. She had no more energy to fight him, and he would surely kill her.
The concussive bang of a gunshot tore through the hallway. Robin, her entire focus on the man in front of her, hadn't noticed the child reach for the weapon. She turned now towards the little slave who held the smoking gun with shaking hands.
The security member made a gurgling noise, his hands going to his throat where the bullet had ripped through the great vessels. Then he slumped to the ground, dead.
The child—who Robin was nearly sure was a girl, although it was hard to tell—didn't move. Tears were beginning to leak out of the corner of her eyes, although a smile was frozen on her lips. It looked as if she was nearly in hysterics. Cautiously Robin approached.
"H-He hurt m-me," the girl stammered. Robin nodded, taking note of her injuries: an eye that was nearly swollen shut, a red mark in the shape of a handprint on one cheek, parallel scratches on her forehead that bleed sluggishly. The girl was obviously in pain, yet she kept smiling. She would have had to been a slave for several years to be conditioned so well, yet the child couldn't be older than seven or eight years old.
"I don't think he'll be hurting anyone ever again," Robin said, gently taking the gun from her trembling hands.
"I-I k-killed h-h-him. He's d-dead."
"Yes," Robin said hoarsely. She had killed someone for the first time when she was about this girl's age. There was no worse feeling. "Now you must run."
"R-run?"
"It won't be long until someone else comes, and I think we both know the consequence if that happens."
The girl whimpered, her careful façade breaking for the first time. "I c-can't. I-I don't k-know wh-where to go."
"To the docks. Others will be escaping; they will take you back where you belong."
"Wh-what about you?"
A heavy feeling settled over Robin's heart. "I don't belong anywhere. There's no home for me to return to. I'll stay here and take the blame so no one comes looking for a murderous slave."
"B-but…"
"Run." Robin pushed the girl away. She stumbled backwards a few steps, eyes wide with terror, and then she took Robin's advice and broke into a sprint, disappearing down the long corridor.
Robin slumped to the ground and leaned against a wall, ignoring the dull ache that spread across her back. She was so tired. Never before had her limbs ever felt so leadenly numb. She felt a powerful urge to just close her eyes and go to sleep, forever and ever.
It would be so easy.
A shadow passed overhead. Robin forced herself to look up and flinched when she saw Hancock towering over her.
"I thought you said you broke."
"What…?" Robin mumbled, brows furrowing together in confusion.
"I saw you hit that man-pig. A broken slave would never attack a free man." Hancock kneeled down and forced Robin's chin up. "Ah, there it is." She inserted a key into the metal collar, and with a soft click it fell off of her neck.
"What are you doing?"
"My sisters remind me that even the strongest warriors occasionally show moments of weakness, and that it would be dishonorable to leave the scales unbalanced after you gave us aid." Hancock didn't sound happy when she said it, even as she tore part of her shirt and tied it around Robin's arm to help slow the bleeding.
"You didn't," Robin said. "I bet you never gave up."
Hancock paused. "I had my sisters. Even then…on some days it was a very near thing." Looking over her handiwork, she nodded in satisfaction. "Haven't you ever dreamed of something more than this?"
"Once," Robin whispered.
"Then fight for it," Hancock said harshly. "This is your chance to be free."
Robin shook her head. The words made no sense. She had never been free. As a little girl she had served her aunt, as a criminal she had been enslaved by the promise to her mother. Robin didn't know what freedom felt like, but she knew she didn't deserve it.
"Have it your way then. I've paid my debt. Rest assured I will nevergive up until I get my sisters home. Enjoy wallowing in pity for the rest of your miserable existence."
The words should have enraged Robin, but they were true and she was too tired to care. "Good luck," she said sincerely. "You have a long journey ahead of you, Kuja."
For the first time, something very close to doubt flickered through Hancock's eyes. It was gone in an instant, the proud mask back in place. "I will never give up."
And then she was gone, leaving Robin with only the dead for company.
Xxx
Robin had no idea how long she sat in that hallway. The smoky haze thickened, and it got harder and harder to breathe. Soon. It would all be over soon.
There was something about Hancock's words that bothered her. The Kuja had forced painful old memories to the surface, reminding Robin of her own debts.
LIVE!
She wanted to die so very badly. Robin had borne the hatred of the entire world for far too long and endured far too much to have any hope in the future. But she owed them. The archeologists. Saul. Her mother. They had given her the only happiness she ever knew, fleeting as it was. To give up was to leave the scales unbalanced.
With a herculean effort Robin forced herself to stand. She had no idea where she found the strength to move, but Robin made herself go forward, one step at a time. She wasn't allowed to die, not yet. The ghostly chains of a promise made long ago were more binding than any contract this world had to offer, stronger than even the mightiest Dragon.
The smoke and the haze nearly covered it, but the Robin could still see the sun shining as she took the first steps of her new life.
When Robin woke up, she hurt a little bit less than she had the day before.
There was still a deep-seeded exhaustion and general achiness when she tried to move. And her throat hurt, but that was due to the tube that was stuck down into her lungs to help her breathe. At least, that's what Robin gathered from the strange man with a purple afro and thick makeup who Robin could only assume was a doctor. When he explained the tube's purpose she hadn't been entirely awake, and his thick accent made it hard to understand the details.
It didn't really matter. Robin was getting better, and soon even the tube would be unnecessary. She would be home free, completely healed from the ship wreck that nearly killed her.
It was ironic in a way, having the Devil Fruit user be the only one to survive drowning.
Robin heard the door to the infirmary open. She closed her real eyes, pretending to be asleep, and called up copies all over the room. When she saw who it was, she groaned. He was back, no doubt to pester her endlessly.
The sound of footsteps could be heard as he crossed the infirmary. They were uneven, one falling harder than the other. Her eyes confirmed what she had always suspected, the boy walked with a limp. He eventually settled in the chair by her beside meant for the friends that Robin didn't have. His wide grin revealed a missing tooth, and the arm that wasn't in a sling tried to flatten unruly blond hair.
"You're not sleeping. I can tell."
The boy was trying to provoke Robin into making a mistake. She didn't know who he was or who continued to send him to keep her company, but this was not the first time someone had tried to use so-called innocents in an attempt to make her lower her defenses. It wouldn't work. Robin was too smart for that.
"I finally got away from crazy Ivankov. I dunno why no one wants me to come visit you. I think it'd be lonely to be by yourself all the time, especially someplace new. I remember when I first woke up I was terrified."
Robin struggled to keep any emotion from showing on her face. It had been terrifying, waking up here. She had been strapped down to keep from pulling at the tube in her throat, her thoughts sluggish from the sedation, the last memories being of the storm that had torn their ship apart killing everyone except for her.
"Anyway, I finally managed to nick some cards from one of the crewmen. Do you know how to play poker?"
The tempest seemed like it had belonged on the Grand Line. The day had been perfectly normal until the prevailing winds had suddenly reversed. The storm developed in minutes, hardly enough time for her weak crew to prepare. Not since the Buster Call had Robin been so close to death.
There had been no way to fight it. For all her cunning, Robin could not outsmart Mother Nature. The fact that she managed to cling onto some drift wood was nothing more than pure luck, and the fact that a ship had been near enough to rescue her when she lost the strength to hold on was nothing short of miraculous. Some would say that some sort of fate or destiny kept her alive, but Robin didn't agree. To her it seemed like the longer she was alive the more horrendous her life became. Her survival was nothing more than some cruel cosmological joke.
"Okay, so I take it that's a no. How 'bout checkers? I could draw up a board, and maybe find some coins for pieces."
Now she was here, wherever that was. And the boy, whoever he was, routinely visited her. Robin couldn't figure out why. She didn't even know who the captain of this ship was, let alone the reason why they had gone through such extensive lengths in saving her. Robin could guess, though, and the prospect of having to deal with another group of people who wanted to use her as a means to their ends infuriated her. If they were using a little boy to help soften her up, well, that only made it more despicable. So far she had managed to avoid communicating with him by pretending to be asleep every time he came, but she couldn't keep up the facade forever.
"Please wake up. There's no one to talk to except Ivankov and he's a crazy weirdo. Everyone else is too busy with secret stuff. I'm bored."
'Secret stuff'? Is it possible that this boy knew something? His plaintive complaint didn't make it any easier to for Robin to keep up her pretenses either. She knew what it was like to be ignored.
Against her better judgment Robin cracked open her real eyes. Her copies saw his grin widen and his whole face light up. The action didn't seem to bother him in any way, despite the bandage that covered his right cheek.
The boy's injuries only added to the questions Robin couldn't answer. He looked like he had just come out of a warzone. He seemed to be getting just as good care as she was. Robin almost would have thought this was a floating hospital, but they seemed to be the only two patients aboard.
"Yes! I knew it! Now I've got someone to talk to!"
Robin rolled her eyes and pointed to the tube that was coming out of her mouth. She wasn't going to be doing any sort of talking, at least for another day or two. Not if she wanted to keep her Devil Fruit secret, anyway. Her power was her trump card. There was no sense revealing it until she absolutely had to.
"Oh, sorry," the boy said sheepishly. "I suppose I can talk and you can nod or something."
Robin shook her head and struggled to sit up. The effort was exhausting and almost too much for her to manage. The boy was by her side immediately, trying to help make her more comfortable. When she was up Robin pointed to the little table that was just out of her reach. On it was a notepad and pen, which her doctor had brought in so she could tell him how she was feeling.
"Of course!" The boy handed her the paper. "We really could…" he trailed off as Robin began writing.
What is your name?
"Sabo. I told you earlier, but you must have been really asleep that time, or you forgot. I was pretty groggy too when I first woke up."
Where am I?
"Um…I don't really know," Sabo said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm from the East Blue, but I think we crossed waters sometime last week."
Who rescued me? What flag are we sailing under?
"Uh…I don't know that, either," Sabo admitted. "They're good people, though. Dragon saw the rottenness of my country and saved my life. Ivankov's weird, but he's a good doctor. The rest are nice too, I guess. They just don't like it when I keep bugging them."
Robin felt pen slip from her fingers. Dragon. There was only one person in the world who dared to claim that name. The Government deemed the Revolution a world-class threat, worse than pirates and bandits. That was who saved her, the girl who supposedly had the power to destroy the world.
Her stomach churned, and the urge to leave as soon as possible redoubled. Short of being captured by the World Government, Robin couldn't think of a worse place for her to be. She held the key to the ultimate weapons of mass destruction. They wanted to change the world. It was an admiral goal, but one she wanted no part of. Robin lost her faith in humanity too long ago to be swayed by pretty idealism.
Would they bully her into serving them or take a more subtle route? Drugs were always an option, especially considering the sophistication of their infirmary, as was poison. Perhaps they would try brainwashing and mind games, or even a Devil Fruit. There was really no way of knowing.
Maybe it had already started, in the form of the little boy sent to keep her company.
Her mind supplied her unwittingly with the consequences of resistance. Maybe it would have been better if she had drowned. At least then she couldn't have revived the Ancient Weapons.
She couldn't escape now. Robin knew she was too weak to do much of anything, and there was the stupid tube to consider. Robin didn't understand how it worked or how to properly remove it.
So she was stuck like a rat in a cage. Robin could only hope that her ten years on the run had prepared her for this challenge.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sabo asked, tearing her from her thoughts. Robin jumped. She had almost forgotten he was there. A crease formed between the boy's eyebrows. "Do I need to get Ivankov?"
Robin shook her head and wrote on the paper, I was just lost in thought. I'm fine.
He didn't look convinced, but let it go. "Okay. Do you have any other questions?"
Again Robin shook her head. No, thank you. You've been very helpful.
A small smile reappeared on his face. "No, thank you." Sabo glanced over his shoulder. "But I guess I should go before somebody comes looking for me. Can I come visit again?"
Reluctantly, Robin nodded. His presence disturbed her some. She could think of no other reason the Revolutionaries would have a child on their ship unless they were training him to become a soldier in their army. That idea, coupled with his extensive injuries, made her wonder how much of his cheerfulness was an act.
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Robin agreed, and with a final grin Sabo left. Once assured of her privacy, Robin slumped back down and stared at the ceiling, her uncertain fate spinning in her mind.
She was in Revolutionary custody, although their intentions were unclear. She was unable to escape for at least another few days. She owed them, because regardless of their ulterior motives they had saved her life. Unless they were tracking her it would have been impossible for the Revolutionaries to know her identity before they pulled her out of the water.
Had they been tracking her?
Robin shivered. There were too many unknowns, too many variables. Sprouting ears and eyes Robin tried to get the beat of the ship. She only managed to keep her power activated for a few minutes before the images and sounds started to give her a headache. Until she was stronger the strain her Devil Fruit caused would limit its usage.
Exhaustion began to overwhelm her. Robin struggled to stay awake, to no avail. As the world slipped back into darkness the door of the infirmary opened, a new figure entering noiselessly. Robin saw a tall man with a dark mane of hair take the seat beside her bed, where Sabo had been sitting only minutes before.
"How far has humanity gone in an attempt to hide what must be known?"
The question was quiet, almost certainly not meant to be heard. Robin tried to find an answer, only to discover she had none. The last thing she remembered before falling into a deep slumber was the stoic face of the world's most wanted man, thinking of his unknown plans for her future
"This isn't a good idea," Robin said, taking a half-step back when she saw just who it was her current captain was facing.
"The lady's right," their opponent said casually. He blinked, eyes sleepy behind a mop of blond hair. Robin recognized him as Marco the Phoenix, first mate to Whitebeard himself. There was another man beside him, although Robin didn't recall ever seeing a bounty on him. It didn't matter. The Phoenix was more than strong enough to defeat her entire crew by himself.
"Shut up," Raphael 'Spitfire' Crown snapped. Robin's captain took his oversized gun off of his back, holding it easily in one hand. A cocky smile spread across his face. "This is why I came to the Grand Line in the first place. I'm gonna be the King."
"I won't assist you," Robin warned. "This is foolishness."
"Smart lady. You should really listen to her," Marco said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I'll deal with you later, Demon," Raphael said. He aimed his flamethrower at Marco, hardly pausing to aim before a jet of fire jumped the fifteen feet between him and his enemy.
Robin turned her head as the heat pulled her skin taunt. Backing away, she barely noticed how the attack had no effect. She could only hope she wouldn't be killed by association.
Raphael finally got the hint his attack wasn't working when Marco started to yawn. He threw the flamethrower away with a snarled curse and drew his sword. At this Marco's companion started to laugh. It was a strange sound coming from an unattractive man, and for some reason it sent a chill right through Robin.
"Zahahaha! Let me take care of this for you, boss!"
"Go for it. But leave the lady alone. She's got some sense at least."
The man laughed again and lunged forward, unarmed. Raphael swung wildly. He managed to nick the man's shirt as he dodged, surprisingly nimble for his size, but drew no blood. The man snorted, unimpressed.
"There's only one man who's gonna be King, and it ain't you."
The man's fist shot out and slammed into Raphael's jaw, dropping him instantly. Once on the ground Raphael did not move, his neck rotated at an unnatural angle. Robin realized with some shock that the punch had broken his neck. Even no-name pirates in Whitebeard's crew had the power to kill with a single hit. She swallowed. It would take some fast talking to get her out of this mess.
"Wow, Teach. That was quick," Marco said mildly.
"The guy was pissing me off."
"No kidding." He turned to face Robin for the first time. "How 'bout you? You going to do something stupid now that we've killed your captain?"
"He wasn't my captain," Robin said, tearing her eyes from the quickly cooling corpse beside her.
"That's what you called him."
"He was the captain of the ship I was sailing on. I was never a member of the Spitfire Pirates," Robin explained. "I needed transportation the Grand Line, he needed information on how to get there. It was business only."
"No bad blood then?"
"No." Robin paused. "Although I can't speak for his crew."
"I'm sure you'll be able to smooth things over for us. Come on, Teach. Pops is waiting for us."
Marco the Phoenix left, with Teach trailing a little behind him. Robin stood frozen. Marco had put her on the spot. She would smooth things over? It wasn't Robin's responsibility to tell the Spitfire Pirates their captain was dead, but if she didn't and Whitebeard's men found out then they might take offence. The chances of that happening were ridiculously small, but even the miniscule risk was too much to take. In some circles the Whitebeard Pirates were more feared than the World Government. Robin would not cross them.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Robin sighed. The situations that she got herself into.
Xxx
"This is strike two, lady. You're out."
"Just here me out. Please."
Marco raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "Your not-crew attacked the Moby Dick earlier this afternoon. Said the Demon Child put them up to it. There's not much to talk about."
This time the Phoenix was accompanied by a young man with shaggy black hair and freckles. Fire Fist Ace, formally of the Spade Pirates if she recalled correctly. A fire logia to compliment the ancient zoan.
Damn. She seemed to have poor luck regarding pirates with fire powers lately.
"I told them not to do it. I take it they didn't listen," Robin said, failing to keep all of the frustration out of her voice.
"That's not the story they tell, Miss Nico Robin. The survivors of the attack said you set them up. Rumor says that's your big MO."
Robin's eyes narrowed. She hated her reputation, as deserved as it was. It wasn't fair that she always got the short end of the stick. The Spitfire Pirates, like every group that came before them, had been destroyed while she survived. Sometimes it was Robin's fault, but this time it wasn't. Now it was her word against theirs, and no one in their right mind would trust anything she had to say.
"I don't know what to tell you," Robin said, her voice hard. "I went back to the ship and explained how their captain died. They left up in arms against my advice. I never claimed they were the smartest group of pirates on the seas."
"Hnm." Fire Fist rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "She's right, Marco. They were idiots."
"It takes one to know one," Marco muttered, rolling his eyes. Turning to Robin, he said, "Okay, I guess that you could be telling the truth. Maybe. More likely you're lying through your teeth, hoping we won't take retribution for making trouble on Whitebeard's territory."
Unwittingly, Robin cringed. The consequences for such a crime could only lead in her death.
"And," Marco added, "You screwed over your own crew in the process."
Robin felt the blood drain from her face. The Whitebeard Pirates were famous for how seriously they took camaraderie between crewmates. Everyone knew that hurting a Whitebeard pirate would bring the wrath of the whole crew. Betrayal would not be taken lightly.
"I didn't," Robin said quietly, hoping he would hear the truth in her words.
"That's for Pops to decide. You're coming with us."
Xxx
"Drink up, Nico Robin."
Reluctantly Robin took a sip from the mug Whitebeard offered. It was tea rather than coffee, but it was warm and strong and helped brace her nerves.
"It seems like you've been causing some trouble lately, brat," Whitebeard rumbled, taking a large gulp from his giant container of sake.
"No offence was meant. If you give me the chance I'll leave your territory immediately," Robin said.
"What? So you can raise hell on my ally's territory instead? Or you can have the opportunity to return in five years, ready to try your hand a second time?" Whitebeard shook his head. "No, that won't do. A more permanent solution is needed for situations like this."
Robin went on high alert, ready to use her Devil Fruit at a moments notice. "And what sort of solution where you considering?"
Whitebeard laughed. It started as a deep rumble in his chest, and got louder and louder until his desk rattled. He extended a hand, a warm smile on his face.
"Become part of my family, Nico Robin. Join my crew."
Robin's jaw dropped. "What?" she asked, rather stupidly.
"Clean out your ears. Join my crew. My sons are mostly idiots. Some womanly sensibilities could go a long way in sorting them out."
"I…don't…I accept," Robin sputtered, realizing she had little choice in the matter. She would stay until she could sneak away. Whitebeard was too much in the public eye for her taste. In the mean time she would enjoy the protection his name garnered.
"Good." Rising to his full height, Whitebeard helped her stand, placing his massive hand on her back in a gesture that was almost…fatherly. "Welcome to the Moby Dick, your new home."
AN: Story behind the story: So when I said I was done with this, I meant it. I truly had no intentions to go forward with the stories I had set up.
However.
When writing the three previous chapters for this AU, there were several scenes I liked a lot that were cut because of pacing and ideas I thought were neat that never got put to virtual paper, and these ideas have been stuck in my head for quite some time. This isn't going forward, it's backtracking. For two chapters. That's right, there's at least one more coming from this AU set (an interlude, if you will), and maybe then I can be done for real. No promises though. It is already written and will be up shortly.
On an unrelated note, when I was writing the Celestial Dragons part, I thought for sure I had flubbed my timeline, because I had Robin pegged at fifteen and knew for sure Hancock escaped at sixteen, and there was no way Boa Hancock was older than Robin. Well, it just proves that physical and emotional maturity don't always coincide, because in canon Hancock is older by one year. Shocking, I know.
Note the third: When it comes to slaves and slave collars, it is my personal head canon that the exploding collars weren't required for all slaves before Tiger's escape, and instead were left to owner preference. After Tiger razed Mariejois it is my opinion that they became a requirement because of security reasons.