So I'm having writer's block with my other stories right now, so I thought I'd go ahead and just update this one. Warning: Zoro OOC-ness ahead. Probably not a lot, but you know… Zoro being Zoro.

I had some awesome reviews, and I want to thank everyone who did! So please take a look at that text box below and type something in it! It motivates me to write faster.

I do not own One Piece nor the Princess Bride.

Chapter 2 – The Boy

Robin was raised on a small farm in the country of Ohara. Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the young farm boy that worked there. He had a name, of course, but she never referred to him by it, only dubbing him as Farm Boy.

The farm was nestled in a small valley between two large mountains, shaded by the mist that often surrounded the place. It was a small, quaint little farm, with only the trees and the grass and the birds to keep her company. Only the Farm Boy was there to talk to, but he never said much.

It was early when Robin returned from her morning ride. Her black hair was tied up in a loose bun, slowly falling with each stride of the bay horse on which she rode. She could see Farm Boy just inside the stables, dressed in his typical attire of a woolen sleeveless vest tied loosely at the neck with a thin piece of leather. A leather belt around his waist held various pieces of equipment such as an axe or a knife. Deerskin pants stopped just at the ankle, where his feet disappeared into wide brown boots.

Nothing gave Robin more pleasure than ordering Farm Boy around. She always enjoyed seeing the look of either annoyance or the simple bored expression he wore on his face with each order. As she dismounted, Farm Boy took hold of the reins in one firm grip, patting the horse on the cheek.

"Farm Boy," Robin said, coming around from behind the horse. He looked up, and Robin's eyes were once again drawn to the shock of messy green hair that he possessed. He hardly ever spoke, and so she never asked if it was natural. He raised his v-shaped eyebrows, waiting for an order.

"Polish my horse's saddle," she said, straightening her back and raising her chin high. "I want to see my face shining in it by morning."

Farm Boy simply nodded, speaking the only three words she had ever heard him say. "As you wish," accompanied by the usual lackadaisical face.

Robin had hoped to get a new reaction from him this time, but alas, she was disappointed. To cover up her emotions, she sucked her lips and turned away, untying the cloak tied around her shoulders as she made her way into the house.

The hours passed, and the daily routine of the farm continued. Farm Boy stood just outside the thatch roof stable, chopping firewood for that day. His thick muscles rippled with each forceful blow from his axe, chopping each piece of wood cleanly in two. Sweat beaded his face, and he took a break to wipe it from his brow.

A young girl suddenly appeared with a basket of tangerines on her arm. Her short red-orange hair was pulled back with a piece of cloth tied at the nape of her neck. Her light grey dress was covered by a dark cloak over her shoulders, and black flats peeked through the hem of the apron tied around her waist. "Farm Boy," she called, waving.

He nodded, acknowledging her presence. He jerked his head to the left, indicating that was where Robin would be. The girl nodded, understanding the signal and disappeared in the direction he had indicated.

The girl's name was Nami, and she was a lifelong friend of Robin's. Her mother owned a tangerine farm on the outskirts of the neighboring town, and she often visited the farm to share gossip and give them free tangerines. She never stayed long, however, and Farm Boy saw her depart about thirty minutes later, her basket now empty.

Robin suddenly appeared from the other side of the stable, two empty pails in her hand. He had just completed his wood chopping for the day and was cleaning up his work area. "Farm Boy," she said, setting the buckets beside him. "Fill these with water."

He said nothing, only stared into her shockingly blue eyes. Robin felt something come over her, a sort of warm feeling like she had suddenly been doused in warm water. "Please," she added, her voice quiet.

He nodded. "As you wish."

Robin didn't know what to make of it. Never had he paused like that before, and never had she said please. She avoided his gaze and returned to the house, feeling his eyes following her until she disappeared from his sight. She didn't enter the house, however, only leaned her back against the packed-mud wall that made up the lavatory.

That day, Robin was shocked to discover that whenever Farm Boy said "As you wish," what he really meant was, "I love you." She wasn't surprised to admit to herself she had only just realized this after years of working alongside him. He never showed any emotion, never spoke but those three words, and yet now she realized it was to hide what he was really feeling.

She peeked out from behind the small building, gasping and returning to the house quickly when she realized Farm Boy had not moved from his spot, still staring at the place where she had disappeared. But there was something different about him. He was smiling.

And even more amazing was the day she truly realized she loved him back.

Robin found herself in the kitchen that day, dicing freshly-pulled onions from the garden. Onions she had told Farm Boy to pull. His hands and been there, and her own felt suddenly warm. She blew a stray hair from her face as Farm Boy entered the room, a fresh pile of logs in his firm grip. She temporarily put a hold on the onions and watched him settle by the fire, stoking it.

The glowing flames illuminated his face, making him appear to be almost glowing. No doubt the fire was warm; she wished to be there beside him watch the hungry flames, to lay his head on his shoulder and stay that way forever.

Farm Boy stood to leave, ducking through the door. Robin didn't want him to leave.

"Farm Boy," she found herself saying, turning to face the odd green-haired man, who had stopped on the threshold with one hand on the door frame, turning to look at her with a quizzical eye.

Robin suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She didn't know what she had called him for, and his eyes were staring at her, expectantly. She looked around frantically for something for him to do. Her eyes fell on a clay pitcher that hung from a small hook by the wood-bake oven.

"Hand me that pitcher?" She said, more like a question than an order.

Farm Boy said nothing as he slowly walked toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. He stopped an arm's length away, raising a hand to lift the pitcher from its hook, an easy reach for her. He held it between them, staring into her face. She couldn't help but stare back, frantically wishing her heart wasn't beating so fast.

"As you wish," His voice was soft, softer than his usual deep and slightly annoyed tone.

Robin couldn't help but smile widely as she took the pitcher from his hand, her fingers lightly brushing his own. His fingers were hard and calloused from years of hard labor, but years he and she had both enjoyed, each expressing it in their own way. She could remember the day she had found him, nearly ten years ago.

~X~X~X~

Winter had just stretched its icy fingers across Ohara, in its wake bringing heavy snowfall and frozen lakes. A fresh blanket of white coated the land where the farm sat. Snow covered the roof of the house, coating the window sills and icing the glass. The horses in the barn nickered, their breath clearly visible in the chilly air.

A dark bundled figure emerged from the small farm house, looking left and right before scurrying to the stables. The young dark-haired girl had clad herself in her warmest attire, even stealing some of her mother's clothing. She quickly saddled up her pony and led the animal into the winter wonderland.

"Yah!" she said, kicking the pony in the side.

The pony grunted and began a brisk trot into the woods, in the direction of a small town a bit over a mile away. She had been told not to go, but there was no way she could leave her sickly mother without any medicine. The only way to afford such a hefty substance was to hire herself out as a maid, and she had done just that. After two months of long hard work, she had acquired enough gold pieces to purchase the medicine needed.

Now, as she rode into town, the townspeople cleared the way for the young twelve-year old girl. She approached the herbalist's store, dismounting in front of the small building nestled between the bookshop and grocery. "Hello?" She called out timidly, putting hand on the door and pushing lightly.

The door swung in on loose hinges, and Robin let out a horrid shriek. The entire shop was in ruin. Cans of preserved herbs lay cracked and scattered across the floor. Windows were smashed in, and the small hand-made register had been completely looted. Dirt smeared across the wooden floorboards, and Robin was horrified to see something dark and sticky dripping nauseatingly from the counter top. Blood.

"What happened here?" Robin cried, running out into the street.

Several townspeople simply shook their heads sadly and turned away. A young Nami stood to the side, her hand gripped by a distressed-looking woman with long purple hair. The mother turned away, pulling Nami with her. A young blonde boy had emerged from the next door bakery, smiling brightly to try and lift her spirits, but the baker apprentice Sanji's efforts were in vain. His mentor, Zeff, placed a calloused hand on his shoulder, shaking his head sadly.

However, an older man whom Robin had become very attached to approached. His hairdo had never ceased to make Robin giggle, but now she found the three-clovered style silly. "What happened, Clover?" she asked, tears leaking from her eyes and freezing on her cheeks.

The old professor joined in. "Doctor Kureha was taken away," he told the sobbing child, releasing small tears of his own. "She had been dealing with illegal substances."

"Now how will I get the medicine to heal Mother?" Robin cried.

Professor Clover only shook his head, pulling the distraught girl into a tight hug. "I don't know," he said sadly. "I don't know."

Robin pulled away from the professor and mounted her pony again, thundering from the small village and galloping home. The icy wind bit at her cheeks, turning them bright red. Snot froze on her upper lip, and she didn't care. She simply rode on.

She was surprised, therefore, to suddenly hit the ground as her pony shied and threw his passenger to the ground. The snow only semi-broke her fall, and her numb limbs jarred from the impact. She looked up to berate the pony when she spotted something green out of the corner of her eye. There was no way for anything green to be alive at this time of year.

She slowly made her way to the pile, leaping back with a surprised cry as she realized the green was not grass nor leaves but hair, belonging to a frost-bitten boy of about ten or eleven years old. His cheeks were bright red, his fingers slowly turning blue. He was only dressed in a thin green tunic, a white sheathe of a sword gripped tightly in one hand.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked, poking the boy. There was no answer, so Robin assumed him to be dead. That was to be expected; there was no way anyone could survive in the frozen wasteland that was an Oharan winter. She clicked as loud as her numb cheeks would allow, and her pony trotted over to his owner, nickering an apology.

Suddenly, a moan that did not belong to the wind drew her attention to the green-haired boy at her feet. He was alive; his face had twisted into a grimaced appearance.

Robin gave a small gasp. She lifted the motionless boy onto the back of her saddle, making careful sure to keep his white sheathe with him. With one hand gripping the back of his tunic, she gripped the reins with one hand and trotted back to the farm.

A light snowfall began as Robin and her new companion pulled into the stables. Only giving her pony a quick rub down and fresh feed, she gripped the young boy under the armpits and pulled him with all her might into the house, laying him by the dying fire to defrost. She had never taken care of anyone before, so she assumed the first thing to do was keep them warm.

She fed the flames with new logs, stoking it until the fire was roaring in the hearth once again. She fetched several blankets from her own bedroom, constructing a makeshift bed for the odd green-haired boy. She laid his white sheath by the door and went to check on her mother.

Olivia's pale form lay on the bed, her stark-white hair standing out against the bearskin blankets and pillows. Her mother's chest heaved with every breath, her skin beaded with sweat. Despite the pale skin, her cheeks were red, and her forehead burned. Robin applied a fresh towel to her mother's forehead, wringing out the other.

"Please, don't die," Robin whispered, laying her hand on her mother's. "Don't leave me alone."

~X~X~X~

Robin stood outside, a large, fresh brown pile of dirt standing out against the white landscape. The snow had been shoveled back, the ground scorched to make it easier to dig. But however much the ground became softer, it was still difficult to dig both the graves of her father and mother.

Robin did not shed any tears, but only stared at the small makeshift headstone between her feet.

NICO OLIVIA

A crash behind her suddenly caused her to whip around, eyes wide. She raced inside the house, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she suspected, the strange boy she had discovered half dead in the snow had awakened, his dark eyes wider than her pony's horseshoes. His gaze flicked from the entire room, scanning every inch of her home from his spot in the corner where he had shuffled. He showed no fear, just surprise at finding himself somewhere he wasn't sure he was meant to be.

His eyes finally landed on Robin, who had been standing in the door for some time. They watched each other for a long time. Neither child spoke, only eyeing the other.

Robin finally broke the awkward silence. "H-hello," she said, taking a step closer. The boy convulsed, his entire body trembling. "I'm Robin," she said, staying put. She didn't want to cause the boy any more trouble. "I found you in the snow. You were almost dead."

The boy's body relaxed slightly, but his muscles remained tense. He still said nothing. Robin wondered if the poor boy had suffered amnesia, or if he could even speak at all. Suddenly, she realized what he might be looking for. She moved her cloak to reveal the white sheathe that rested by the door.

Sure enough, the boy's eyes immediately went to his only possession, his expression hungry. Robin took the long object in her hands and slowly slid it across the dirt floor toward her patient. With a movement quick as a striking viper, the boy's hand lashed out and grabbed his possession. He immediately began to check over it to make sure no harm had befallen his treasure.

"Are you hungry?" Robin asked.

The boy looked up, his expression slightly softening. A moment later, a loud grumbling shook the house. Robin started, reaching for the bow and arrow she kept above the door, expecting a bear to appear outside. She looked to her patient to see his reaction, and was stunned to see him sitting cross-legged, his expression embarrassed as he clutched his stomach.

Robin laughed aloud and the tension drained from her body. She moved into the kitchen, placing a few choice ingredients into a pot of boiling water. She wasn't the best of cooks, but she had learned a thing or two from her…. deceased mother. She could feel the boy's eyes watching her throughout the entire preparation of the meal, his eyes never leaving her face as she set a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

"Eat," she encouraged.

The boy needed no further prompting. He seized the bowl and downed the entire contents in less than a minute. A small smile lit his face, and she could tell he liked it.

"What's your name?" she asked, curious.

He put down the bowl, eyeing her warily. At first she didn't know whether or not he would answer, until he finally spoke. His voice was raspy from the cold, but slightly better than what it would have been had she not just fed him.

"Zoro," he said. "Zoro Roronoa."

~X~X~X~

The sun set just beyond the hills of the large mountain the shaded the farm. Out in the pasture, two figures could be seen backlit by the dying sun. They slowly leaned in toward one another until their lips –

~X~X~X~

"Whoa."

Grandpa looked up from where he had been reading, keeping a finger by the word he had paused at. "Hmm?"

"What is this?" Ace said indignantly. "Are you trying to trick me or something? Where's the fire!?" He gave his grandfather a skeptical glance. "Is this a kissing book?"

Grandpa held up a hand. "Just wait, just wait."

"But when does it get good?"

"Keep your shirt on and let me read," Grandpa said roughly, giving his grandson a slight bop on the head. Ace hissed in pain, clutching at the mass of bruised skin that had suddenly appeared on his forehead.

Ace grudgingly fell back into the pillows, allowing his grandfather to continue.

And that's that. Tell me if you like this slightly-new Zoro. I had to kind of improvise with his speech patterns, since we all know Zoro is NOT one to throw the phrases "true love" and "I love you" easily. But I just could not take out the 'As you wish.' It was just too cute.

Questions? Comments? Concerns?

Also, their past is completely made up. I had always wondered how Westley had met Buttercup, so I just improvised. And I found it an excellent time to introduce Sanji.

So R&R, please and thank you!