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A/N Trigger warning S/A Reference

Chapter 10

6:45 pm

"We...Wellesley!?" her eyes widened, and she delicately covered her mouth in shock. She took a half step back into Gunther, an action that, to anyone with eyes, could be seen as seeking comfort. Sliding my eyes sideways toward Marcus, I spied his quick look of malicious glee, which he tried and failed to cover. What the hell is that about? Shaking my head, I decided I'd think about that action later; I just took her in for now. She appeared well taken care of. Her cheeks were full and rosy, skin clear of any blemish or bruise. Her clothes fit her well. Her blush pink and gold dress showed off the slender body underneath. Other than the dark circles under her eye and the slightly gnawed on lips, she looked healthy, damn near glowing—a picture-perfect princess, ready for the cameras on her wedding day. A chill swam up my spine at that thought.

Her brown eyes filled with tears as she stared at me in disbelief. Wellesley, she called me. Hearing my real name after so long felt wrong. I had lived, breathed, and suffered as Lavender for so long that I had started identifying with her. Wellesley felt like a long-ago dream. The hopes, aspirations, and personality of that person having been mostly eroded with tears and blood. But to hear it from Celia, my sister, in that voice with a cadence so similar to our mothers, soothed a jagged part of my soul. I could feel Nami's eye boring into me from where she lay on my lap. The questions I knew were probably flooding her mind would have to wait.

Celia's eyes shifted frantically and took in every line of my face as if she thought I was a figment. My sister. My wondrous, bratty little sister. Oh, how I have missed you. Tears threatened to fall as I watched her try to step towards me, only to be yanked back by Gunther's hand on her arm. My eyes cut to him fiercely. I hope his death is slow. Our eyes met, and I let him see all the hatred and fury boiling inside me. Gunther didn't look away, and the resignation in his eyes gave me pause. I took another look at them together. The hand that had yanked Celia back wasn't gripping, digging into her arm, leaving the kind of deep bruising with which I was so familiar. No. No, it was gently stroking the skin and offering what little comfort could be given in the current situation.

I knew Marcus was watching. I could feel his eyes roving over all of us, evil glee pouring out of him. How long had he been planning this? I knew better than to try and talk to her. I hadn't been given permission, so I tried my hardest to remember my training and strained to keep my face tight, but I was cracking. Marcus was chuckling softly as he watched the show, and I dreaded what he was planning.

Celia was his intended. That thought made a cold sweat break out across my whole body. The idea of Marcus putting his hands anywhere near my sister made my vision red, and I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The need to protect her re-ramping up even after all these years. Everything I had done had been because Marcus had promised he would never touch her. I knew he was a monster, a damn dirty liar, but on this, I believed him. I had honestly never felt more stupid.

It took everything in me to keep the tears at bay. This is not how I wanted Celia to see me again after all these years. I had always imagined us reuniting in some blaze of glory as some unknown force took Marcus down. There would be tears of joy and laughter, and the dark days would be left in the past. Instead, I was huddled at Marcus's feet with a battered woman in my lap. I watched as Celia's eyes passed from disbelief into thoughtfulness and straight into hardened determination. She locked gazes with Marcus and demanded,

"What the hell is this?"

Marcus all but cackled at her. His glee was palpable, and I waited for the inevitable strike, the muscles in my legs burning as I fought the urge to jump between them. Surely he won't hit her. A bruised princess on her wedding day does not make for a happy populace. Marcus moved past me, his large foot barely missing my fingers in his rush. He got within a foot of Celia before Gunther moved her back a few inches. Gunther's face was a cold fury as he put himself between my sister and his brother. What is that about? Marcus grinned a shark-toothed grin. "Soon, brother. Soon I'll have her, and I'll make you watch." Gunther stiffened further, his eyes wide and furious.

"Maybe. But not today. Today she is mine, and you will not touch her." His voice was icy; the threat left unsaid but still heavy in the air. Marcus only chuckled once more; God, he laughs like a god-damn kookaburra. I let the information that Celia was involved with Gunther settle in my gut like a stone. His he said. His in what capacity? The idea that she might be his in the same way I was Marcus's sickened me. But she wasn't behaving like a battered slave. She seemed to be leaning toward him, her whole being seeking shelter in the safety of his body. Could they be...? No, that would almost be too cruel. But I could see it in virtually every line of their bodies as they unconsciously leaned toward each other. They loved each other. That knowledge hurt, and I could see Marcus knew. He knew and couldn't wait to use this knowledge to break every one of us.

A fresh wave of sadness washed over me as I thought of my sister losing her love, her peace. Her short life had already been filled with sorrow, and I hated that I couldn't keep her safe from more. Suddenly Marcus strode back to me, his large hand open and reaching. He gripped my hair tightly and yanked me sharply to my feet. Nami hit the marble hard as she slipped from my lap, a small whimper echoing from both of us at the unexpected pain. I caught her eye as I was wrenched away, pleading with my eyes that she not make any sudden moves. Luckily she understood, and she wisely didn't move from where she had fallen. I made no sound as Marcus yanked me forward and stood right in front of Celia.

"This, my lovely wife-to-be, is my prized whore Lavender."

Celia paled and then flushed red as she watched me dangle by my hair, barely able to keep my footing as he pulled me a little too high. Our eyes met, and all the feelings I had been suppressing, shame, joy, anger, frustration, finally boiled over, and I felt a single tear slip down my cheek as I saw the sympathy and gods-damn pity swimming in Celia's eyes. A sharp growl echoed in my ear. I turned from my sister just in time to see a giant fist flying at my head. It was hard to say what set Marcus off; one would think me in tears was the goal, but even I, who had had over a decade of practice, often fell victim to his temperamental anger. The pain was excruciating as his fist connected with my temple. He let go of my hair simultaneously, and I dropped like a sack of potatoes to the cold marble below. Celia screamed, I could see her pink slippered feet starting toward me, and as my vision turned black and unconsciousness started to creep in, all I could think of was the last time I had heard her scream like that.

Lying with my head on the cool marble, I waited for the darkness to swallow me or fade. I could hear Marcus speaking, but the words were jumbled, and I couldn't follow them. I let more tears fall. It'd been so long since I'd let myself think of Celia as anything deeper than an abstract idea. The pain of our last meeting had to be something I put out of my mind to keep on living. It'd been years, but I still remembered every detail. Memories swamped me as my vision went dark.

Flashback 6 Years Ago

My real horror had started at fifteen.

For several months after my fifteenth birthday, Marcus had become very present in my life. I had lived in isolation for so long, chained to the dungeon wall and isolated. The metal had long since rusted from the persistent damp down here and had left thick bands of scarring around each of my wrists and ankles. Then suddenly, Marcus had moved me into a cell with other girls. I had been overjoyed at first as I saw my old friends Wendi and Alice, but after hearing their stories, the stories of the girls I didn't know, and seeing what he had done to Alice, my joy quickly turned to ash and dread.

He began to take me outside, walks along the garden, and even to the beach once. He'd give me gifts, flowers, and new dresses. He began to try and hold my hand, caress my shoulders and hip. His hands were always painfully dry, catching on my skin and clothing. The more I pulled away, the more he pursued. As if he wasn't old enough to be my father, as if I hadn't watched him slit my parent's throats and laugh with their blood on his face and hands.

Then came the day when he kissed me for the first time. We had been in the hedge maze in the back courtyard. Just stepping inside brought tears to my eyes as I remembered my mother chasing my siblings and me through its pathways for hours on cool summer nights. Her laughter had been like music, my brother and sister's steps like drums pushing me to run faster, to beat them to the end of the maze. Those memories would always be tainted now. Marcus had not kept up with the maze. The hedges were overgrown and filled with prickly thorns and withered flowers. The paths were covered in old, crunchy leaves and brittle twigs that snapped underfoot to poke at my feet through my silk slippers.

It was dark, and a fog had rolled in. The air was cool and cut through my cotton dress as if it wasn't there. From beside me, Marcus, dressed warmly in a hunting jacket and heavy-soled boots, gestured to the maze before us with a sweep of his arm. "Run."

My eyes went wide with shock, and I swung to face him. "What?" I hadn't yet been taught the lesson about questions.

His eyes went bright with glee, and he smiled at me with too many teeth. "I said to run, my lovely Lavender."

I'd never been called that before, but I wasn't about to question him again, so I'd think on it later. I took off to the right. I had run this maze since I could toddle. I knew every twist and turn, and I honestly thought I could escape him if I could get out before he caught up. I ran for ten minutes before I came to the first dead end. I was confused as I knew from hundreds of races with Al and Celia that this dead end had not been here before. I backtracked to the turn, thinking that I had just confused the way after so long. So I took the next left, only to come across a new path that had been roughly hacked into the side of the wall.

He'd altered the maze. Dread sliced through me deeper than the sharp stones and sticks under my feet. To my great regret, I panicked and began to run full tilt in the opposite direction, crashing through leaves and branches with no care for the noise I was making. From a short distance, I heard a loud whistle. I froze and pressed my back against the hedge, ignoring how the unshorn branches stabbed through my thin gown.

"Lavender. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sounded excited, and my terror skyrocketed.

I could hear his heavy footsteps approaching. He was almost to me, only a few feet separating us. If he turned left, he'd see me, and this slim chance at freedom would be gone. I held my breath as he stopped at the fork in the maze. After a moment, he huffed a quiet laugh and miraculously went right. I stood stiff for several more seconds before letting out a small breath and moving to take a step in the opposite direction than he had.

I never got the chance. An iron band of an arm latched around my waist and suddenly spun to press me back against the hedge. A shriek left me, and Marcus laughed as he put almost his whole body against mine. I struggled against him but froze when he made an obscene noise at the motion.

"Caught you, my love." There was a note in his voice I had never heard before. It could almost be confused with affection, but it sounded too sharp on the way out.

Confusion spasmed through my whole being, but I didn't have a chance to respond verbally because suddenly, his mouth descended onto mine. He was rough and biting, my tears mixing with the blood from my suddenly split lip, making the whole thing taste like salt and copper. Unsure what else to do, I latched onto his bottom lips, and with everything I had, I bit into the skin, ripping as I flailed my head away from his.

A grunt of pain escaped him, his blood mixing with mine, washing down both of our chins as he wrenched his head away from mine. There was real hurt in his eyes as he looked at me. Like he honestly couldn't understand why I had refused him. I was breathing deeply as we just stared at each other. The moment stretched out uncomfortably long—only our heavy breathing as we stared at each other. I don't know what decision he made, but his face quickly morphed from confused hurt into a raging fury, and he ran at me, fist closed and raised. No one had punched me before, so I was slow to move out of the way, and he caught me across the cheek, sending me flying into the dirt below. He kicked me while I was down, raining blows on me across my back and legs. My pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears.

I'd been hurt by my captor before, but never directly. He'd had men break my arms to take Celia from me, and numerous guards had dished out beatings, but this was different, personal. I realized he had been yelling at me the whole time. Calling me a whore and a tease like my mother. I didn't understand. My young mind ran through every interaction we had ever had, trying to see if maybe I had led him on. But the more I looked, the less I saw and the crazier he looked. The kicks stopped, and he suddenly reached down, grabbed me by the biceps, and ripped me up from the ground. He was blurry through the tears running from my eyes, but I could make out the heated glare in his green eyes.

"Remember," he said venomously, "that everything that happens from now on is because of this moment. This was your chance, and you blew it."

He did not wait for me to respond. Instead, he dragged me through the maze, my silk slippers finally falling off, leaving my toes to be torn up by the gravel. He handed me over to a guard who carried me to my cell. The girls gave frightened yelps as the door opened, and their steps shuffled away from the door as I was brought in. I was dropped heavily onto my bed, and when the girls caught sight of me, there were various cries and tears. They fretted around me, but there wasn't much a bunch of uneducated girls could do to fix what was undoubtedly internal bleeding and broken bones. They cleaned my cuts as best they could and wrapped them in the cleanest fabric they could find. But it was a small comfort. Wendi's terrified expression hovered over me for days as she watched me get sicker. I know she thought she would have to watch me die, and I hated that she would have to live with that.

My breathing had grown weaker, and my vision was often spotty. Wendi never left my side. Even Alice lay beside me, holding my hand, gently stroking my arm. It had been about three days, and I was sure I wouldn't make it another. I was trying to get up the energy to say goodbye to Wendi, to tell her about Celia, when the door to the cell suddenly cracked open. Two guards marched in and made a beeline toward where I lay. When Wendi didn't move, they smacked her out of the way, and each grabbed one of my arms and yanked me toward the door, ignoring her pleas to leave me be. There were many protests from the other girls, but they were much quieter. I didn't fault them for it; I, too, was afraid.

Marcus had them bring me into the royal dining room. After the guards had wrangled me into the silk-lined chair, the rough handling unnecessary given how badly beaten I was, the room lapsed into a weighty silence that stretched for over fifteen minutes. The only real sounds were my labored breathing. The whole time, Marcus had just stared at me with this burning intensity that, at the time, I hadn't understood. While I didn't know the meaning behind his searing gaze, I did get the sense that something was off. I'd been worried that Marcus would lash out at me for days. His lip was still purple and swollen. The sight made a bit of pride well up inside me.

A maid came from the far wall. She was pretty and short, with dull turquoise hair kept in a neat bun under a white bonnet. I'd never seen her before, so Marcus must have brought her with him. She sneered at me as she placed a fuchsia-pink fruit down in front of me before smiling beatifically at Marcus and then fluttering back out of the room. Whorls and swirls lapped over and under each other, forming a spiraling mess across the peach-fuzzy surface. It smelled like disinfectant and caused my stomach to turn. Marcus had had the fruit placed on a golden inlaid plate beside an almost overflowing goblet of deep burgundy-colored wine. He had nothing in front of him, only his hand folded innocently. He had sat me at his side at the head of the table, the same seats my parent had always occupied during our many formal and family dinners. The similarities made my skin crawl.

I wanted more than anything to run from the table. I knew this was a devil fruit and what Marcus probably intended for it. While I had never seen one in person, every Fallnian knew the story of Iliana Floria, my ancestor. She had possessed the Flourish-Flourish fruit, depicted as a plump leaf-shaped fruit with a bubbly, husk-like rind. With it, she had caused significant surpluses of food, great washes of health, and prosperity. Her crowning achievement was working alongside another devil fruit user, a man named Grayson Zazeric, whose power allowed him to see the future. Together, they cultivated the Soothsy flower, which became the Floria Crest. She had used her gift for great good and wonderful purpose, but I knew that no matter what this fruit did, Marcus would only use it to hurt me and others.

"Do you know what this is, Lavender?" That name again. I was beginning to fear I'd never hear my name again.

I nodded, though the motion caused shooting pain up my spine.

"Good. I'd like you to eat it."

Before I could think, I shook my head. This time, the pain of my spin was overshadowed by Marcus slapping me across the face. The pain was excruciating, adding to the wealth of aches I was already suffering.

"You will eat it or die."

"Which fruit is it?" Another smack.

"Do not question me. Eat it, and then I'll tell you."

"But..." Smack.

A sob broke from my lips, and I shakily reached for the fork and knife beside the plate.

Marcus reached for me again, and I flinched away from him. But he only placed his hand on my head and stroked my hair. "Good girl.

The praise disgusted me. My arms shook as I cut into the fruit. The disinfectant smell grew stronger. The closer I brought a bite to my mouth, the more I had to focus on keeping the vomit down, though there wasn't anything to throw up. I paused to mourn that I'd never swim in the ocean again before pushing the bite between my lips. The fruit was bitter. It was so bitter it immediately dried out my tongue and made swallowing difficult. I cut another bite and washed it down with a big gulp of wine. This went on for ten minutes. The whole time, Marcus just stroked my hair, murmuring inappropriate praises.

When the fruit was gone, I suddenly felt hot. More than the goblet of wine I'd drank on an empty stomach could cause. I felt like I was on fire and gripped my throat as breathing became more arduous. The world around me went white suddenly, and I fell sideways out of my chair. All my cuts burned, and my broken bones moved under my skin. My vision began to flicker, and just before going dark again, I saw Marcus stand and unbutton his dress shirt.

I came to several hours later shivering, naked on the dining room floor. My injuries were gone, but a new hurt started as I realized what Marcus had done to me. As I looked down, I saw the evidence was dried against my thighs, neck, and breasts. I was so stupid. I thought that being a princess somehow protected me from this aspect of being His prisoner; god, I had been so stupid. A wrecked sob forced its way up my throat as I began to claw at the stains. In my hysteria, I sliced myself with my fingernails and froze as I watched the shredded skin reknit itself back together before my eyes. The shock snapped me out of my clawing frenzy, and I ran the pad of my thumb across the new skin in awe.

"The Heal-Heal fruit is quite extraordinary, isn't it?"

I shrieked and rolled semi-under the chair I had fallen out of earlier, trying to use the silk covering to hide my nudity.

"Now, now, pet, no need for modesty. Well, not now, at least." Marcus laughed like he had said the funniest thing in the world. He was sitting shirtless across from me. Sobs and shivers wracked my body as he just stared. At my body, the marks he'd left on it while I was unaware. "Yes," he said ominously, "this will do quite nicely."

I didn't ask the questions that were raging inside me. I knew he'd smack me, and if he touched me right now, I'd scream and never stop.

I didn't move when he stood and marched over to me. "Stand up."

I hesitated but jumped up when he went to reach for me. My reaction must have amused him because his mouth quirked. He handed me his discarded shirt. It dangled between us, and I did not reach for it.

"Either take it or walk through the castle naked. I don't care either way, but I didn't have any intention of sharing you yet, and if you walk around like that? Well."

Words like 'yet' and 'well' shook me, and I quickly snatched the shirt and buttoned it to the neck. It fell a little above my knee but covered my new shame. His evergreen scent washed over me, burning my nostrils, and my eyes watered.

"Perfect. I almost like you better cowed and silent. Almost." He gave me one last revolting head-to-toe stare before flashing his teeth and turning toward the hallway to our right, "Follow me, my love."

The 'love' caused me to grind my teeth in anger, but what could I do? I was naked and tired and painfully sad. So I followed him through the dining room, various halls, and past many guards that wolf-whistled; one or two even were brave enough to sneak a pinch to my ass as we passed them, though I do not doubt that Marcus allowed them to do so. The hall we stopped in was familiar to me. It was the personal set of rooms for the past reigning King and Queen and their children. My old room was down the hall, and the door we were currently standing in front of was Celia's.

"Please, Marcus. Please don't let me see her for the first time in years like this."

He didn't react. Just pushed a key into the lock and shoved me through the door when it slid open noisily. There was an affronted grunt from the other side, and when I steadied myself from the shove, I looked up into my sister's eyes. Her angry expression quickly morphed into a look of pure glee as she threw herself into my arms with an anguished cry.

"Wellesley! Oh, my stars!" Her joy quickly dampened when she looked at me, how I was dressed, and the stains I knew went up my neck. Tears dripped down her cheeks to match mine.

"Celia, I.."

"Ah, ah, ah. Lavender shut your mouth. You aren't here for a reunion. We are here because little Sugarplum here has earned a punishment." Fear that he meant a punishment similar to mine, I pushed Celia behind me. Marcus just laughs and moves with a grace that, with his large size, should have been impossible. He yanked me back against him; his chest against my back was ice cold.

"Now, Celia. What did I say would happen if you tried to escape again?" Again?

Celia doesn't answer for a moment; she just looks at me in terror, even as her posture was stiff and unbowed. Finally, she says, "You said I'd live to regret it."

"Exactement! You will live to regret it. Your sister, however,"

A sudden sharp pain in my neck rips through me, and Celia's piercing scream rattles my eardrums. I look down, and the whole front of Marcus's button-down is covered in red. I look at my sister, reach for her, and then collapse.

End of Flashback

"Lavender? Oh, my lovely Laender, are you back with us?" Marcus's voice to my left dragged me out of my sudden reverie. I turned my head from where it rested on the marble and met his piercing gaze.

"Ah, there she is. I thought I'd finally hit you too hard, devil-fruit or not."

Celia was at my other side, her small warm hand resting on my wrist. I was surprised Marcus had let her get so close to me. Her brown eyes swiftly lifted to look at our tormentor. "Devil-fruit?"

Marcus laughed like a joke he'd long desired to tell finally coming to fruition. "I met a man once who was trying to perfect the practice of creating fake devil fruits. A nasty man who had aspirations far above the pirate crew he was running with at the time. A real visionary. He needed test subjects, and I knew just what I wanted and just the rat to test it on." He patted my head like I was his favorite dog. Did he give me an artificial devil fruit? Was such a thing possible?

Celia seemed at a loss. Her chin moved like she was trying to come up with the right thing to ask, but too many questions were floating around her head.

Marcus noticed, and his eyes glowed with delight. "Why? You may want to ask. How? When? I'd been toying with the idea for months, but then you, Celia, had to try and run away."

"You can not blame this on me." She was outraged, her eyes glowing almost amber in her anger. Just like Mother, I thought fondly.

"No, no, Celia, not blame. Give credit. The idea of getting to watch you watch as I killed your sister right in front of you, just like those pathetic parents of yours, gave me a hard-on that lasted days. Just ask Lavender." An unsettling chuckle slipped out of him, and my cheeks burned with shame. God, I hate this braying hyena. "I had originally planned to do it over and over, but the pain you were in after and the sorrow that poured out of my Lavender were just too potent. I knew if you knew she couldn't die, the effect wouldn't have the same result a second time."

I slid my hand into my sister's and squeezed her. She hesitated a second before squeezing back. I hope she understood. I'm still here. He hasn't entirely broken me yet. Don't give him any more reason to hurt you. She delicately cleared her throat. "Now what?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked Sugarplum. Now you watch her die for real. I can't have this old whore hanging over my head with our upcoming nuptials, now can I?" I should be more offended that he wanted to kill me, but old; I was barely twenty-one. Vanity still strikes me at the strangest time. From his back pocket, Marus pulled a glimmering set of sea prism stone handcuffs and knelt beside my head. He reached for my hand, and I snatched it out of his immediate reach before he could grab me.

"No." my voice was calm, surprisingly strong.

He seemed genuinely shocked, his green eyes round mouth slightly parted. I quickly rolled away and got to my feet before he could recover. I looked at Nami, my sister, and even Gunther. And they all gave me the same nod, all communicating, RUN as loudly as they could with just their eyes. Lastly, I looked to Marcus. I thought about the last time I'd run from him and the horror that had followed that day and every day since. He held out his hand to me, fully expecting me to come back and accept his word as law as I always do. But something was telling me to run toward the hidden door. I would be safe if I could just get past the heavy wooded door.

I flicked my eyes toward the door, and Marcus must have seen it as his face morphed into terrifying rage. "Lavender." The warning was clear, and for the first time in years, I ignored it as I took off running across the throne room. He wasn't expecting it. I could hear his footsteps heavy on my heels as the door came into view. I had just placed my hand on the handle when I was yanked back painfully. An anguished sob broke from me, and he cracked me back against the stone wall by the door.

"Seems my prized whore has some spirit that still needs to be beaten out of her. Well, don't worry. Just for that, I won't kill you today. We seem to still have work to do. But I had plans for today. Luckily I ordered a spare for this evening."

The realization filled me, and in unison, our eyes swung to Nami, still sitting where she had fallen on the floor. "No, please. Not Nami. She didn't do anything."

"No, but..."

He didn't finish. The wooden door beside us exploded outward, the force of it knocking Marcus and me sideways with the blast. A man emerged from the now broken doorway, a sword in each hand and another in his mouth. He was deeply tanned and muscled. His hair was a vibrant shade of green, eyes black and feral. As he purposefully stalked into the chamber, his heavy boot crushed wood and stone, kicking up more dust into the suddenly heavy air of the throne room. Hands down, he was one of the most menacing men I had ever seen. But deep down, I didn't feel fear. I felt a sense of safety and warmth that spread across my whole being.

Marcus had lost his grip on me, so I took advantage of his distraction with the stranger to book it back to Nami and Celia. I pressed them both behind me and tried to keep Marcus, Gunther, and the unknown man in my line of sight. I didn't know if this man meant harm to us, but I'd be damned if I didn't try to protect them until I knew.

Nami looked over my shoulder as the blast's dust and debris finally cleared. I felt her gasp, and she shouted with pure glee and relief.

"Zoro!"

A/N Sorry for the long delay. My mental health has been kicking my ass lately, and I find it best not to write when I'm feeling that way.