Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, but Kyra was my idea.

Beta'd by Tomas the Betrayer.

Trafalgar Law is scowling fiercely, mopping blood off the side of his face from a gash in his hairline and wishing very much to kill something. His infirmary is deserted save for a comatose Bepo, his men making tracks for other parts of the ship as soon as he'd given Gable the order to get them off this island. He wants as much space as possible between himself and Doflamingo.

Fucking bastard sold out his magician, and thanks to Vergo's interference Law didn't even get the chance to maim the damn Don like he deserves.

Fufufufufu! Why the long face, Trafalgar? You should be thanking me! Haven't I done you a favor, after all?

Law yanks a packet of alcoholic wipes from a drawer and tears the packaging open with his teeth, snarling in fury.

What? You mean the pretty witch didn't leave you? I thought she'd broken my dear little brother's heart! What better punishment could there be for that than to hand the bitch over to someone who wants to break her? Fufufufu, my bad!

The cool cloth burns like acid against the deep cut, which will probably require at least butterfly stitches to close. If Kyra were here such measures would not be necessary, but thanks to his stupid magician's foray into heroics and Doflamingo's double-crossing nature, for now Law must make do with normal medical remedies to his physical ailments.

Beats me. Why would I have cared where the Rear Admiral and his new prisoner are going? Aside from the cleaning bill I need to send him; son of a bitch left a hell of a mess in my office before strutting out of here the other day.

Three days. Kyra has been in Merrick's possession for three fucking days already, with many more to come while Law struggles to find them out in the vast New World. Doflamingo had been no help, and lashing out at him had gotten Vergo dragged into the discussion - which resulted in Law's injury and Bepo getting knocked out when the bear had tried to protect his captain. If not for Doflamingo's show of mercy, the animal would be dead.

Hey, hey, no need to be so harsh, Vergo baby! Law's just distraught! Can't you see the boy's in love? No need to kill him for that, fufufufufu! Look, Trafalgar, I don't know where your little sweetheart is now. I don't know what Merrick was planning to do with her. I do know the girl's got a set of lungs on her - I could hear her screaming like I was still in the room with her, fufufufu! So instead of trying to hit me and getting your ass beat down, why don't you take your little playmates and just go look for her? I've got a black market to run! Bye, now!

Law absolutely hates that fucking flamingo.

Once his head is fixed up and he has assured himself that Bepo will wake on his own, Law retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. His fur hat is soon swiped from his head and deposited on the floor, while the surgeon huddles on his bed with head in hands, trying to think of his next course of action. What is he going to do? How does he track down his magician now? Would Merrick take her somewhere, an island rather than keeping her on a ship so that they are constantly moving? When he does find them, how is Law going to get Kyra away from Merrick? If the scientist has control of her powers, if Kyra is bonded to Merrick now, what hope does Law have of pulling that connection asunder?

Questions; too many unanswerable questions, and only one source of possible information. If the Divine hasn't bled to death from its injuries.

"Do not compare me to some weak human such as yourself, mortal. I will live to see that half-breed's innards ripped from his body."

Wonderful. Now Law gets the pleasure of dealing with an irate immortal who hates his guts. What a splendid week he's having so far.

Raising his head and letting his hands drop to dangle between his knees, the Dark Doctor gives his visitor a once-over. Whereas the Divine had been rather the worse for wear when last it popped into Law's submarine, today it looks just as flawlessly beautiful as ever; wings immaculate, human facade perfect - not even a single visible scar to serve as a reminder of its ordeal. What a disappointment; a blemish or two on that flawless skin might have lifted Law's mood a little.

"Where is she?" He needs that answered right now. It is this creature's fault that he and Kyra are separated to begin with. The least it can do now is tell him where his magician is currently being held.

The Divine shoots him a look of intense loathing. "Watch your tone, mortal. Do not forget that I am capable of causing great harm to someone as flimsy as you."

Law clenches his hands into fists, lets the feel of his nails cutting into his own palms ground his fury. Calm, he must stay calm. He will be no good to his magician if he pisses the Divine off. When this is over, when Kyra is by his side once again, she will help him ensure that this fucking monster pays for its part in the girl's suffering. For now he needs its cooperation.

When he speaks again, the newest Shichibukai's voice is even and level. There is no hint to the inferno of rage that roars within his heart; no clue to the thousands of horrible things he would so love to do to his guest. "Where is she?"

"I do not know. Due to the nature of the bond she now shares with the abomination, I will not be able to find her until I can pinpoint the wavelength of her dreams. Doing so is proving... difficult. I fear the half-breed is aware of my methods; if so, it is not far-fetched to think that it is keeping the little one from falling into a deep enough sleep to dream."

Law scowls darkly at this less than pleasing news. If the Divine cannot find Kyra for him, he will have to resort to his own talents in tracking. He focuses on this, rather than contemplate the means through which Merrick is keeping his magician from sleeping. Dwelling on her pain will not help anyone.

"What do you suggest we do then, Mr. Divine?" It disgusts him to resort to asking for the immortal's help, but the Dark Doctor is well aware of what he is up against. For now he must put his pride on a back burner to stew. He has a feeling he will be asking many favors of various people before this ordeal is ended - be it by Kyra's death, his own, or Merrick's.

"I must first become more familiar with the way in which the world is operated in this age. Do not forget, human: I have slept in the earth for a millenia. You will provide me with the knowledge I require."

Law's displeasure spikes further, both at the obvious command and because relating all of his considerable knowledge to the clueless being will likely be an undertaking of years. Before he can point out this flaw, a nauseating stab of agony tears through his skull.

His vision goes black before he falls convulsing on the floor. Ears ringing; eyes ground shut; excruciating agony worse than any physical torment ever visited upon him. That is all he knows. The only clear thought left in his screaming head outside this anguish is wondering whether it will continue until he dies from it.

Abruptly as it began, the pain vanishes. The pirate finds himself sprawled on the floor of his room, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth while something wet and warm trickles steadily from his ears, eyes, and nose. Bare feet the color of cocoa are inches from his face; they shift slightly as the Divine crouches before him, perfect hands hanging betwixt its thighs for a moment before they move to Law's shoulders and grip hard. Law is jerked up and pushed back until his spine connects with the frame of his bed, his limbs useless after the onslaught of agony moments ago.

"Do not faint, weakling. We do not have the time for your dramatics. I now possess the knowledge I need. You must go to your new masters, use the things they can tell you about the half-breed against him. They are his masters as well, are they not? They will know where to find him. You have the power to ask, due to your recent placing in the world. Use that power to find my little one."

"Bastard," Law spits, furious at this attack on his person by a supposed ally. The Divine releases him and stands. The surgeon swipes at the trails of wetness on his face, angered to see blood on his hand. He feels as though the heat of his rage will melt him, even as a strange sensation of shame crawls up his spine. The monster has just invaded his mind. The one sanctuary available to him, the one place his enemies cannot access, the single weapon his foes can never take from him. And now its security has been shattered as surely as a glass flung into a wall. The experience leaves Law feeling dirty and violated.

I've never felt so... so... violated in my entire life! I feel like that fucking thing raped me or something! Do you have any idea what it's like for another entity to invade your consciousness and use your body for its own purposes?

He had not understood quite what Kyra meant those months ago. Now he does.

Perfectly.

Law climbs laboriously to his feet, gripping the bedding for a moment as his balance resettles. The nausea flares again before fading; aside from a truly terrible migraine that has him squinting sensitive eyes and a deep-seated ache in his limbs, the captain feels as he usually does. Hopefully the side effects of the Divine's dive through Law's mind will soon be gone completely.

"Never do that again, you piece of filth," the Surgeon of Death commands in his most quiet, terrible voice.

The creature is maddeningly unaffected. "I will continue to search for the half-breed and the little one. Make haste to your masters, human. We must find her."

It is gone with a flurry of feathers, leaving Law to scowl at the repeated command as he marches into his bathroom. Flipping on the cold water, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his sink and stops to take a closer look. Blood is smeared across his cheeks where he wiped at it, more of the liquid dripping down from his nose over his mouth and chin. He looks much the same as Kyra did when she returned to him after freeing her storybook monster, minus the copious amounts of other people's blood splashed over her body. What had that thing torn from her mind?

He is just wiping off the last of the blood with a wet rag when pounding on his bedroom door jars his still-present headache.

"Captain! There's a ship on approach! You're gonna wanna see this one, Captain! It's the Red Force!"

Red-Haired Shanks? What could the Yonkou possibly want with Law's crew? The Shichibukai tosses the rag aside and exits the bathroom, snapping up his sheathed nodachi before flinging open the door to his room and slipping past an irate Haru. The mechanic jogs along beside him, fairly radiating tension as they cut a speedy path upwards to the deckof his sub floating on the ocean's surface. The rest of the crew is waiting there, minus Bepo still unconscious in the infirmary and Gable occupied at the controls. They are armed, prepared to do battle at Law's first signal, but the palpable taste of fear on his tongue tells him that they are all very much hoping that such a signal never comes.

Calculating grey eyes scan the deck of the approaching ship, snagging on a blur of white fluttering wildly in the air at the bow. A white flag of treaty, waved madly about by a hugely fat individual tearing a chunk out of some sort of meat clutched in his free hand. Next to him stands a figure of average height for a male, cloaked in a garment of pure black that flutters in the wind. A person could easily overlook this man as insignificant - if not for the vibrant color of his hair, from which both his nickname and the name of his crew is derived.

It would appear that the Yonkou Red-Haired Shanks really has come for a visit.

"OOOOOOOI! HEY OVER THERE! ARE YOU THE HEART PIRATES?! WE HEARD THEY TRAVELED IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE, BUT WE AREN'T SURE THAT'S NOT JUST A JOKE! WHAT KIND OF PIRATE MAKES HIS VESSEL YELLOW, YOU KNOW?"

Law has a feeling that the headache pulsing behind his eyes is only going to get worse from here on out.

In short order it is established that yes, they are the Heart Pirates you fucking idiot. The Red Force drops anchor on their starboard side, and Shanks comes alone onto the deck of Law's sub. Almost immediately, the weaker members of the Heart Pirates begin dropping like flies, out cold with no visible explanation. Jambarl gives a threatening growl from Law's back. His captain silences him with a look and a shake of the head, already aware that the Yonkou coming towards him is possessed of the Conqueror's Haki. No one with a slight willpower has any chance of staying conscience around the man when he turns his ability loose.

The famous pirate comes to a stop just out of arm's reach, scratching the back of his head in obvious embarrassment even as he gives a good-natured laugh. "Hey, sorry about your guys. I have that effect on people sometimes."

"What business does a Yonkou have with me?" Law inquires in a monotone, brushing aside the apology as unimportant. His men are simply unconscious. They will be fine, probably as soon as Red-Haired gets off of Law's ship again. The reason behind the older scalawag's presence on said ship is the topic that needs to be examined.

Shanks gives him a wide-eyed stare for a moment, as though shocked by his question, and then proceeds to throw back his head and laugh loudly.

"Dahahahaha! You mean - you mean she didn't tell you?! Oh, man! That must have driven you completely nuts! I know if somebody on my crew spontaneously disappeared into thin air like she does and didn't come back for days, I would pull my hair out! I can't believe she never told you about meeting me! That's just hilarious, dahahahaha!"

"I am aware that my magician met and healed you nearly two years ago," Law grits out between tightly clenched teeth, annoyed that the man would mock him in such a manner. "That is not the issue at hand. What I want you to tell me is why exactly you have tracked us down. What do you want, Mr. Shanks?"

Shanks blinks foolishly, head cocking slightly to the side in question. "Track you down? No, it's not like that! We were just in the area, you know, enjoying our booze and doing our thing, when my sharpshooter Yassop spotted your ship in the distance. I remembered reading somewhere that a friend of mine is a member of your crew. I just wanted to pop in and say hi, see how she's doing and all that. Haven't seen her in the papers lately, and knowing her, that seems like it'd be a sign of problems. Is she doing okay?"

Shanks looks around, his eyes scanning the comatose men sprawled around the deck and the still standing crew behind Law. A wrinkle appears on his forehead as he furrows his brow in confusion. "Hey, where's Kyra? She inside or something?"

The cold hand that has been wrapped around Law's heart for the past handful of days squeezes a little tighter. Part of him is clawing to be free, to rage and howl and vent his loss to the world like an animal mourning a mate. The logical part holds that feral urge in check. Kyra is not dead. She is not lost to him forever yet. He will get her back, even if he must follow her into Hell and drag her kicking and screaming to his side once again.

"Kyra has been separated from us. She is being held prisoner by the Rear-Admiral Rafe Merrick." The words burn his tongue; admitting her situation out loud is abhorrent to Law, in that it makes it more real.

His guest stares at him blankly for about five seconds before his hands are fisted in his hair and he is talking very fast in a high, panicked voice.

"She's been captured?! But how'd the Navy get a hold of Kyra?! She beat the shit out of them at Marineford, she should have been fine! Who the hell is Rafe Merrick? Oh, oh, wait! I can find out! HEY, BENNY! START RAIDING ALL THOSE FILES OF YOURS AND TELL ME ANYTHING YOU CAN FIND ON RAFE MERRICK! HE'S A - hang on, what rank did you say he was? Oh, right, I know! - A REAR-ADMIRAL! HOP TO, BEN! THE BASTARD KIDNAPPED THE GIRL!"

Shanks turns his attention back to Law as though he has not just screamed very loudly right next to the surgeon's ear.

"What's a Rear-Admiral want with Kyra, anyway? I read in the papers that she's supposed to be handed over to the Admirals to take care of if she's ever caught, but -"

"Rafe Merrick is not an ordinary man," Law cuts in harshly, holding onto his nodachi so tight that his hand is starting to cramp. "I don't have time for this. If all you wanted was to talk to my magician, there is nothing I can do for you. Remove yourself from my ship. We have a search to continue."

"We can help!" Shanks offers immediately, as though it's the most natural thing in the world for a powerful pirate such as himself to give aid to lesser men like Law. "Do you know where he took her? I can call in a few favors and find out for you. I mean, seriously, it's not like we can really do anything else until we know where Merrick's going, right? I'm pretty sure he won't bother with Impel Down if he knows anything about our girl. She'd make mincemeat of that place, don't you think? Are you guys hungry? We should get something to eat while we figure out what direction to take next. OI, LUCKY! GET TO COOKING, AND MAKE SURE YOU LEAVE SOME FOOD FOR THE REST OF US! GUYS, LAW AND HIS CREW ARE GOING TO BE TRAVELING WITH US FOR A WHILE! LET'S GIVE 'EM A REAL WELCOME, ALRIGHT?"

Through the renewed ringing in his ears as a result of once again having the Yonkou screech much too close, Law can vaguely hear the cheering from the rival pirate crew at the idea of a party. His own men say nothing, waiting for his signal as to how they should act. He gives a single nod, enough to let them know that for now they will go along with Shanks' idea. Though it irks him to have to accept help from anyone, finding Kyra as quickly as possible is more important than his pride.

A weathered hand clamps down genially onto the surgeon's shoulder - he wonders for a moment if it is the limb regrown by his magician. The serious, focused look on Shanks' face throws such ponderings out of his mind, setting the hairs on the nape of his neck to rise. In this look is all of the power one might expect from a Yonkou, all of the danger in a pirate feared and revered around the world. To have such an expression directed at his person is disquieting.

"You and me need to have a serious talk, Law. I want to know what happened to put the girl in a Rear-Admiral's hands."

"That promises to be quite the long story, Mr. Shanks," the Shichibukai replies, resisting the urge to shrug away the grip on his shoulder.

Kyra's past; her joining with his crew; her time as a captive on her own home island; freeing the Divine; their last fight with Merrick; his foolish decision to send her away...

Yes, this is going to be a long story indeed.

Kyra wants sleep.

No, 'wants' isn't right. That isn't a strong enough word for how the sorceress feels right now.

She craves sleep. Needs the safety of oblivion with every fiber of her being.

She huddles in her cell, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering with the terrible cold that has gripped her so tightly. This tiny closet of a room reminds her of the meat locker back on Law's sub. Her captain keeps the locker below freezing to preserve the organs Kyra has a habit of punching from their enemies chests; long periods in that room have always left her with a case of the shivers.

Such a silly reaction from my cold-hearted magician.

I don't have a heart, idiot. You're to blame for that.

Warm fingers on her icy flesh, kneading heat back into her limbs. A hot mouth against her throat.

Yes, I have your heart now, Kyra. A much more beautiful specimen than the others you have given into my keeping.

You are one creepy bastard, Law.

Kyra shakes her head to dispel the memory, unwilling to dwell on thoughts of happier times. To do so will plunge her further into despair. Despair opens the door to depression, and from there it is only a short fall to insanity. She must not allow that to happen. It is vital that she attempt to keep her wits about her as much as possible.

She is unsure how long she has been here. One moment she was passing out in Merrick's arms. When next she became aware, it was to the four walls of this room. She had immediately tried to teleport away, anywhere else but here, but had been rewarded with the same horrible sense of agony as she had experienced when forced to kill Merrick's father. Her magic is not responding, though the occasional whisper of the voice in her head tells her that it would free her in an instant were it able.

The wrist where Merrick took a bite out of her is red and swollen, the skin angry and easily irritated. Her arm is reacting as though she has contracted blood poisoning; lines of black are slowly crawling out from the wound to the healthy flesh. It pulses in time to her heartbeat, a constant painful reminder of the hell that is now Kyra's life.

He has provided her with a bucket of water from which to drink, a small supply of some sort of jerky, and another bucket in which to take care of her bodily functions. The room is ventilated, which reduces the smell of waste and unwashed person, but the stench and the cold make it difficult to breathe.

Kyra has not slept at all in the time that she has been trapped in this chamber. Every time she has tried, every single time she has closed her eyes and attempted to shut off her mind, Merrick has used his forced bond to shock her back to wakefulness.

Can't have that, lovey. Those precious dreams of yours would draw unwanted attention. Give me a little time, and then you may sleep as much as you like. Just not right now.

Fucker.

The magician lifts weary eyes to the door as the lock jangles and the portal slowly swings open, allowing her captor to lean comfortably against the doorframe. He is dressed casually in jeans and a loose button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his arms crossed over his chest. Over those bare forearms is draped a thick blanket.

Kyra looks at him long enough to ascertain his wardrobe, gives a halfhearted attempt to rip his head off with her powers, and drops her eyes back to the floor when the pain sets her nerve-endings on fire.

Merrick clucks his tongue at her in a disappointed manner.

"Why the long face, darling?" he croons, coming into the room and crouching in front of her. "Don't tell me my company is really that abhorrent to you."

The warm blanket is carefully draped over her shoulders, Merrick's spicy cologne overpowering the stench of the waste bucket in the opposite corner. His cold fingers brush gently against Kyra's cheeks, smoothing back a few strands of her hair. Bile surges up Kyra's throat at the contact. She flinches back from him as though burned.

"We're almost home now, lovey," he tells her, speaking as though her disgust is not plain on her face. "Once we get there, we'll take a few weeks vacation to accustom ourselves to our new bond. I'd like to know more about your powers, and I'm sure you're interested in my story, aren't you? I'll tell you about my late father, how we met a few months ago, what kind of gifts I received from him. Once we become a little closer, maybe you can try your hand with some of those powers. You can use my abilities if I allow it, after all. What we have isn't all that different from your old bond with your little captain. It's just slightly less pleasant if you have a moment of weakness and try to kill me. Well, that, and I control whether or not you are able to use your own gifts. No playtime for you without my permission, lovey, and naughty little girls are not allowed playtime."

Kyra wants so badly to kill him; to bathe in his blood, to fill her ears with the sounds of his screams. It is worse than death for her to be bound to her tormentor, her mother's killer.

"I thought perhaps you would like to relocate to a more comfortable room until we get home, Kyra. Does that sound good? We can visit for a while, start getting to know each other. We're bonded until one of us dies, after all; we might as well be friends. I can be good to you, if you let me," Merrick muses, idly reaching out to stroke an icy finger over the skin of her bare arm.

The mere thought of a friendship with this monster - the very idea that she is to be trapped with him for the rest of her natural life - is too much for Kyra to handle. She barely has time to turn her head before she vomits, sick splattering upon the floor at her side as she retches again and again. Even when her stomach is empty the girl heaves, her very body violently protesting the hell of her reality.

Merrick coos gently in her ear, his arms going around her in a sickening embrace before he hefts her up and stands, ignoring the weak fight she puts up with her half-frozen limbs. Cradling her to his chest like a beloved bride even as she strikes at him with her fists, the Rear-Admiral carries her from her cell and through the halls of his ship until they come upon a well-lit chamber in which there is a steaming tub of water and several women in maid attire sporting the unmistakable rings of exploding collars around their necks. The women sweep deep curtsies as Merrick carefully sets Kyra in a well-stuffed armchair to the right of the tub, not seeming terribly concerned when she immediately goes over the side of the chair and books it to the farthest corner of the room, the blanket tossed aside in her haste to get away from the madman.

"These women have been assigned to you, lovey," he informs her, waving a negligent hand at the servants by the tub. "Just some slaves I picked up here and there. They are very obedient, I assure you. Should you have any problem with them, just let me know and the issue will be corrected."

He makes a sweeping gesture to indicate the rest of the room, smiling broadly over at Kyra's huddled form. "This will be your room until we get home. That door there - " - he points to a door on the far wall - "- leads to your lavatory. That one -" - another door to Kyra's right - "- is a connection to my own chamber. It's locked, I'm afraid, but should you need me just knock on it. I'll have to ask that you stay in your room at all times, lovey. You understand, what with all the sailors required to run a ship, and you can't be too sure of people these days. I would hate if anything happened to you, my dear. I'll bring you your meals and visit as often as possible. For now, I'm afraid there are a few things that require my attention. Why don't you have a nice hot bath and then get some sleep? It's safe to do so now, lovey; I'm not worried about my darling uncle coming for an unexpected visit. Say hello for me, won't you? Goodnight, Kyra."

Kyra stares after him for a long time after the door shuts and locks on his retreating figure before the sound of a throat clearing brings her flinching back to her senses. One of the slaves has stepped forward, nervously wringing her hands and keeping her eyes fixed on Kyra's feet.

"Master has commanded that we make sure you bathe, Mistress," she whispers fearfully, cringing immediately after as though expecting Kyra to leap up and rip her throat out. The mage is too exhausted and heartsick to be offended. She makes no move to get up, just shifts so that she is sitting rather than crouching and leans her head back into the cradle of the corner. Her eyes drift shut, telltale lines of moisture creeping out from under her eyelids to quickly dampen her cheeks.

"Will you kill me if I ask you to?" she whispers hoarsely after a moment, eyes still closed. She doesn't open them until a gentle hand carefully brushes against her face, wiping at the tears almost tenderly. Kyra peeks beneath lowered lashes at the gorgeous blonde kneeling at her side, cradling her face in one hand while the other moves to clutch her wrist.

"I can't, even if I wanted to," the woman tells her, laughing without a hint of true humor. "You don't get to take the easy way out while we stay with him and suffer for it. Now get in the damn bathtub, you sordes vermin."

The word has Kyra's eyes snapping fully open in an instant, one hand wrapped threateningly around the woman's throat while Kyra scans every inch of the blonde's face. Her prisoner does not panic or try to get away, merely rolls her eyes and sneers at the amazed mage.

"It's me, you imbecile," Lihla snaps, yanking on Kyra's wrist with enough force to pry the weakened woman's hand from her throat. "Must I drag you to that tub? I have no intention of dying because of you, sordes. You've already cost Father his life, I'll not have you getting me killed, too. So you're going in. Strip."

Kyra tugs listlessly on her captive wrist, ignoring Lihla's command. "Why are you here? I thought you were dead."

"We can have storytime later, you stupid animal! Get up this instant! I will not be punished because of you! Don't think I won't drag you to the bath by your hair if I must!" True to her word, Lihla proceeds to reach out with her free hand and grab a hank of Kyra's dirty hair, exerting painful pressure that draws a hiss from the Demon Witch's mouth. In an instant she has broken Lihla's hold on her and once more has a hand around the blonde's throat over the explosive collar, snarling in her childhood nemesis' face.

"Don't touch me, you bitch," she growls, anger and humiliation giving her strength. "Don't you dare touch me. I don't need my powers to kill you, and I'd love to break your fucking neck with my bare hands. You stay the fuck away from me, Lihla."

Kyra shoves the other woman away, sagging back against the wall for a moment before laboriously pushing herself to her feet. Weary blue eyes stray to the steaming bath and the three other maids standing attentively nearby, their eyes all glued to the floor.

"Don't touch me," she repeats in a whisper, repelled by the idea of anyone's hands grazing her skin. "Get out. Leave me alone."

All of the slaves but Lihla immediately bob quick curtsies before making tracks out the door, the last one closing it gently behind her. Lihla has by this time gained her own footing and marched over to the armchair into which Merrick had deposited Kyra minutes ago, throwing herself into it and covering her face with her hands.

"This is all your fault," she mutters through her fingers, voice heavy with malice. "Father had great plans for you. If you'd only accepted your place back home, none of this would have happened. Father would be... he'd be alive. I wouldn't be here with that monster. Everything would be as it should. But you just had to ruin everything, didn't you sordes? You should have just died when you ran away all those years ago. I wish you had just died."

"Oh, shut up already," Kyra snaps in irritation, taking wobbly steps towards the tub and tugging her clothes off as she goes. "What happened after I got away from you at that stupid bonding ceremony? Last time I was on Veneficus, your house was a wreck. Merrick get pissed off that your father's brilliant plan failed?"

"Father's dead. I told you." Lihla's voice is flat, purposely without inflection. A glance as Kyra climbs into the tub shows the elitist's face is held carefully expressionless.

"Merrick killed him?" Kyra does not take the time to soak; grabbing up the bar of soap on the rim of the bath, she scrubs harshly at her skin, wishing to remove all taint of her captor from her body.

"Yes."

Kyra says nothing more after that, washing in silence as Lihla lounges morosely in the chair. She does not feel pity for the other woman, or any type of sorrow at the news of the shaman's death. The old fucker had made Kyra's childhood a living hell, given her mother to Merrick, and tortured her for three full months trying to tie her to the half-breed bastard. Her only regret is that she did not kill him herself.

It is not until she removes herself from the cooling water and snatches up a waiting towel that Lihla speaks again.

"What's that hideous mark on your chest? And that blemish on your neck?"

A lump situates itself midway down Kyra's throat, bringing the threat of tears to her eyes and making speech impossible. She wants to spit and curse at Lihla for calling Law's jolly roger a hideous blemish, but refuses to give the bitch the satisfaction of seeing her cry again today. Kyra feels so out of control without her powers to ground her, with only the occasional faint whisper in her mind to let her know they are not completely gone. She can't think straight, she can't keep a handle on her emotions, she can't fucking do anything.

She needs to sleep.

Her clothing is blood-caked and filthy. There is a white silk nightgown laid out on the large bed for her, but Kyra refuses to accept a gift from Merrick. She doesn't wear dresses. She slips her ruined clothing back on and settles atop the covers, snatching a pillow and hugging it hard to her chest.

Lihla remains curled in the armchair, staring broodingly off into space. "Did he kill it?" she asks suddenly. "His father?"

"Yes." Kyra closes her eyes, remembers the sound of meat and bone ripped asunder by her powers and Merrick's will. Is the Divine dead, too? Defeated by a half-breed, just like its brother? She never thought she'd live to see the day where she actually gave a damn for the Divine's wellbeing.

"What does he want from you, anyway? You're just an abomination. What is it about you that is so special as to attract his attention?"

"Why are you still alive?" Kyra counters drowsily, sleep pulling heavily at her mind. "Why didn't he get rid of you when he killed the shaman? You're just a useless slave now who can do a handful of parlor tricks. What's keeping you alive?

She dozes off with Lihla's reply echoing in her ears, the words strangely ominous given their inherent simplicity.

"You are. Just you."

Merrick stands at the side of Kyra's bed in the dark room, head cocked to the side, studying her with a slight smile on his face. She'd put her filthy clothes back on after her little bath rather than wear the gown provided for her. What a stubborn little weapon he has procured for himself.

Little Kyra.

His Kyra.

Finally his after all these years.

He's always known that she is special, different than the average pissants trekking over the surface of the planet. He knew as soon as he walked into Sengoku's office all those years ago and tasted the power coming off that malnourished child in waves. He'd tested her, used her time as his captive to see what abilities she possessed. It had quickly become clear that she was not the same as Merrick. She was not a half-breed mixture such as himself, but a normal human gifted with extraordinary powers.

Kyra is a queen amongst insects, and he will force her to realize this.

But first, he decides as he gazes down at the sleeping woman, we need to get rid of a few things.

He tugs the pillow from her grasp and tosses it aside even as she jerks awake, blue eyes finding him in the dark as she shrinks away from him. He latches onto her wrist before she gets very far, putting pressure on his mark and paralyzing his young mate with the pain. Kyra gives a shout of agony as black energy shoots from her skin in an encompassing globe, wrapping around the both of them before they disappear from the ship altogether.

Merrick is soon straddling the girl's hips in the midst of a jungle, apparently having overshot a bit and missed the house located some distance away. He will have to practice somewhat with Kyra's teleportation ability now that it and her other powers are at his disposal. He uses his control now to force his mate into stillness, gluing her to the ground with her own magic so that he is free to stroke his fingers across her face without her small fists striking out at him.

"Now, now," he coos gently, fascinated by the smoothness of her skin here, on this one part of her body that is free of scars save for the faint mark just to the side of her right eye. "Shh, lovey, don't be frightened. This will only hurt for a little while, I promise."

Merrick's fingers migrate to her neck, stroking over the tattoo located there as a frown warps his features. To think that a disgusting, low-level pirate had the gall to mark her like this infuriates him. The very thought that the magic sleeping inside this girl considers scum like Trafalgar Law to be worthy of bonding with her, while Merrick has been rejected, is ludicrous. They are alike, Merrick and Kyra, two powerful freaks in a world of weaklings. It is only right that they are together. It is only natural that Kyra be under Merrick's control.

Which means this tattoo and the one on Kyra's chest simply have to go.

It's an easy enough thing to pull his lovey's magic out of her and turn it onto the marks. She cannot move, though her screams echo through the jungle in a way that brings the predators out for a curious look-see. That's alright; the beasts that reside here can smell the power pouring off the both of them in waves, there is nothing for the quasi-humans to fear. Merrick strokes Kyra's face in a soothing manner as her powers dissipate, leaving two bloody holes in her body that slowly begin to heal.

She looks so horrified by his actions, as though getting rid of those blemishes is a crime against her rather than a service. Her horror seems to have left her momentarily speechless. Tears trickle in rivers down her flushed cheeks as she stares silently up at him. She looks so adorably vulnerable like this. Merrick cups her face between his hands and leans down to kiss her sweat-soaked forehead.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he murmurs against her skin, snaking his hand around the back of her neck. He prods the pressure points there before his lovey has a chance to form a reply, sending her nose-diving back into oblivion. It will be much easier to carry her up to the house without her struggling against him. His stubborn girl will doubtless fight him tooth and nail at every opportunity until she comes to terms with her new station in life. Merrick will wait her out, force her to accustom herself to the role he has selected for her. Sooner or later she will break; once that happens, molding her into the perfect weapon will be a simple task. She has so much power sleeping just beneath the surface - power that is now at Merrick's beck and call. The possibilities are limitless now, with Kyra under his control and the wonderful gifts his late father bestowed upon him.

Merrick lifts Kyra's prone form into his arms, sneering at the thought of his sire. He'd grown up without the creature's presence in his life, raised by the broken wreck of a woman who had given birth to him. Merrick's mother had been a woman of great beauty once upon a time, a sought after prize on her home island far away in East Blue. It was then that Merrick's father had first laid eyes upon her. The immortal had been instantly captivated by this ethereal human, and determined to have her for its own. It had appeared to her in dreams for many months, wooing her with promises of a grand life by its side. The human woman had never stood a chance. She had thrown away the opportunity at a happy, normal life with her own people to let a monster snatch her away from her home to a virtually deserted island along the dangerous Grand Line. She had been happy with the thing, in love, living a dream.

Until she had become pregnant.

The creature did not understand human reproduction. It had no prior knowledge on which to lean as to how to deliver a baby into the world. So it was that in the immortal's infinite wisdom, Merrick's very pregnant mother had appeared out of thin air in the middle of a busy street in the town in which she had grown up, to the astonishment and terror of the people who had seen her borne away by a monster years before.

Needless to say, they had not welcomed her back with open arms.

Merrick pushes such thoughts away as he carries his mate through the jungle, stalked by enormous animals that would no sooner attack him than they would adopt the human tongue. He has always hated this place, hated the thought of living here where his father once held sway. The house now visible before him is the only trapping of civilization on the godsforsaken spit of land, the rest of the place encouraged to run wild. Well, it is his in full, now that his father has met the grisly end it deserved. It will soon be tamed to better fit Merrick's taste, better molded to suite Merrick's purposes. For now, it will provide both shelter and prison for Kyra as he asserts his dominance over her.

The back door of the extravagant house opens at his approach. The woman who comes out to greet him is old now, her once sleek chestnut hair white with age and hardship, the beauty of her face broken with lines and spots. Her tired brown eyes wander from the young woman in Merrick's arms to the Rear-Admiral's face, a wan smile pulling up the corners of her mouth.

"Welcome home, dear. Is this the long-term guest you've told me to expect? The wards have been set, and I have a room prepared for her."

Merrick smiles, bending slightly to place a chaste kiss on the woman's wrinkled cheek.

"Hello, Mother. It's good to be home."

A/N: Please review.