Chapter Text
"POV: you ate the Lilim Devil Fruit" — a playlist
"POV: Luffy doesn't care that you're scary" — a playlist
It’s been a while since you’ve felt warmth. Almost so long, actually, that you’ve grown used to the cold, while somehow still feeling estranged from it. After all, you grew up a Lady — coveted, cared for, your needs catered to. Well… not entirely.
You were raised like a puzzle, pieces scattered and contradictory, half of you knowing not to accept less than you deserved and the other half molded to please, bend, break. Your mother would tell you she brought you into the world and thus she’d never leave you, but then she would lock you away, teaching you to bare your neck in the face of slaughter. And your father would lift you into his arms and call you the apple of his eye, just to parade you in front of men, their eyes tearing at you like teeth gnawing at meat.
You knew not to rebel. They were just doing what was best for you, picking you a husband that would take care of you. And meanwhile, they were collecting riches of each and every kind, so that they could pay that future man enough to convince him that perhaps you were actually worth it — and, amongst those riches, they found that devil fruit.
You remember catching a glimpse of it, once your father’s men brought it to the castle. Dark and thick, with black thorns sticking out and an aura to it that could only be described as evil. The commander of your father’s guards caught you looking at it, as the servants prepared to lock it in a chest, and he placed a large hand onto your shoulder — you were only fourteen then and, although five years have passed, the words still ring in your head. “Avert your eyes, my lady,” he told you, “never get close to that vicious thing… and never, never, never eat it.”
To be frank, you hadn’t understood at the time. You really couldn’t see how anyone could want to eat such a thing. That fruit seemed… poisonous. You certainly had never seen anything remotely similar grow in the trees of the estate, nor in all the places you’d traveled. But the years passed and your mind grew to comprehend that what was palatable was not the fruit’s appearance, nor its taste: it was power.
Still, you would have never dared, no, you wouldn’t have dreamed of it. The mere thought of that kind of power scared you. You had heard of the people who made use of it, those who tasted the devil fruits — marines, men of power and criminals alike. They appeared wrong to you, unnatural, and Nature itself seemed to know that they did not belong, to the point that they were cursed by the Seas, doomed to drown at their touch. You were a Lady! You had no business with that kind of danger, you poor thing.
But then your father handpicked you a husband. And, suddenly, being eternally cursed by Nature seemed like the better option.
You still felt it in the pits of your stomach — the fear, once you were presented to him. Mostly because he was old, a man who could have been your grandfather, wrinkled, red-faced, with a belly full of wine and rotten teeth. And secondly, because you knew him. He was your father’s enemy, the one who’d mercilessly tax his merchant ships or destroy them, the one who’d make deals with pirates and raiders and who’d let them ravage each platoon and vessel in exchange for protection. And now your father was selling you to him for safe passage.
You remember how bad you wanted to run, to scream your refusal. Instead, feeling the sharp grip of your father’s hand on your elbow, you bowed to your future husband and smiled. “Thank you, my lord” you told him, “You honour me, my lord.”
And he laughed, a gurgling sound, before slapping his hands on both sides of you and nodding with approval. “You have good hips,” he said, “you will give me many children.”
That’s when you understood the appeal. That’s when you knew: you’d rather rot on the bottom of the sea than ever marry that man.
So you waited, in a silence not unlike that of the dead. You waited for your wedding day, and you smiled as your handmaidens did your hair and fitted you into your white gown. You said ‘please’, and ‘thank you’ , and ‘wonderful’ , and bowed and bowed and bowed. Then, as they readied the hall for the ceremony, you walked the halls like a ghost, walked until the cellar, where that chest laid shut closed and you pried it open with naked fists, until your fingers were raw and bleeding.
And there you found it, the treacherous fruit, its black aura pulsing into the air. You picked it up, hands trembling, and its thorns pierced your hands, then your gums, tearing your mouth open as you bit. You screamed in pain, hoping that swallowing it would kill you before someone could drag you to that altar, but instead you started to change. You well remember the transformation. The horns breaking bone and skin as they shot out of your scalp, the feathers cutting through your shoulders and ripping your skin as they made their way out, your nails growing sharp and lethal — you perfectly remember the night you became a monster.
And yet, all you wanted was to be free.
Luffy jumps off of the Sunny with a tired huff, his stomach rumbling ceaselessly. The crew — him more than anyone, actually — cut through their reserve of food pretty quickly and it was imperative that they make a stop before they head to the next island, so Luffy reckons this has to be it, although this place kind of looks like those islands that Sanji likes to define a ‘complete waste of fucking time’ .
Sanji hops off next to him, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “This place looks like a complete waste of fucking time,” he comments, indeed. Then he looks over at Nami, his face already softening in his ridiculous manner. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a Lord’s island, my love?”
Nami ignores the pet name, too busy double-checking the Log Pose. “That’s what Kin’emon said,” she says, then irritably shakes her head at the rowdy harbour, where they — one — met absolutely no resistance and — two — can perfectly see a half-burned castle, where the Lord’s flag, supposedly, is ripped and crossed with what is hopefully red paint.
“There must have been an uprising of some kind,” Jinbe judges, narrowing his eyes.
Luffy lifts an eyebrow. He isn’t opposed to uprisings at all. “So,” he trails off, “are we getting food, or?”
Sanji glares at him, probably close to kicking him, but then Robin calls him to help her unload something and he disappears out of thin air.
“It’s colder here,” Chopper comments, already in his quadruped form and loaded with empty bags for the food, “and the people seem…”
“In disarray?” Usopp completes, ready enough to just get back below deck.
“They seem fucked,” Zoro corrects flatly.
It is rather true — there are people picking fights, armed men running around, no marines or guards and pirates everywhere.
Luffy sighs loudly, now tapping his foot against the wood. He’s starting to get impatient. “Too much talking,” he complains. “Let’s go and find out, come onnn.”
Zoro lifts an eyebrow and shouts up at the Sunny. “Oi, cook! Come down,” he calls, to which Sanji replies to something that resembles a ‘ fuck you, mosshead’. Then Zoro looks at Usopp and nods up at the ship. “Stay here with Brooke and Robin. Get Franky.”
Luffy sighs again, Nami now holding him by the scruff of his neck. “Can we go now?” he snaps, a bulging vein now pulsing on his forehead.
Nami hits him over his head, snapping just as bad. “Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. That. Way.”
Franky starts coming down, Sanji at his side and he chuckles at the scene of Nami and Luffy scrapping like cats, as Jinbe keeps them separated with a bored look on his face. “The children are fighting again, Sanji” he says light-heartedly, “Better find that food fast.”
Sanji’s eyes start twitching, feet already ready to fly, and he almost starts kicking Luffy for daring to fight his sweet-beloved-beautiful-wonderful Nami, when an armed group approaches them and they all drop into silence, observing them.
“Are you Strawhat Luffy?” the tallest of them says, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.
Luffy scowls at him. He’s easily unnerved when he’s hungry. “Yeah,” he replies gruffly, “what’d you want?”
“Word goes around that you’re an Emperor,” the guy goes on, perhaps somewhat cautious of the hint of madness in Luffy’s eyes. “We don’t want no trouble. The Lord’s family was killed.”
Luffy’s interest is sparked. “Killed?” he asks, almost neutrally, “By who?”
There’s a chill in the air.
Zoro and Sanji both tense up at Luffy’s side and the stranger hesitates. “That’s what we wanted to... talk about,” he starts saying. “You need food, right? Supplies. We can give them to you, for free.”
“For free? Sounds like there’s a but coming,” Jinbe says cooly.
The man pulls his lips into a line. “But,” he says, indeed, “there’s a monster hidden in the tundra — that’s the one.” He shivers, as if he doesn’t really care that the monster killed the Lord, but he looks afraid. “I was the commander of the guards. The monster attacked before the wedding of the Lord’s young daughter. Only her bloody wedding dress was found.” He swallows thickly, pausing. “That beast killed our Lord and his Lady-wife, the little Lady’s betrothed husband… Just. Kill the beast. We’ll give you whatever you want.”
Luffy remains quiet for a moment, exchanging looks with his crew. Zoro shrugs and Sanji nods, almost solemn. It’s a three man job, nothing more. “The rest of you can stay,” he tells the rest, “make sure these guys don’t lie about the food.”
Zoro looks at the ex commander. “Need proof? A head, or something?”
The ex commander blinks, horrified. “No, I — You’re men of honour, aren’t you?”
“No” Luffy merely replies, “We’re pirates.”
Then he points the way and Luffy, Zoro and Sanji venture into the tundra.
It’s foggy in the tundra. A cold, thick fog that reflects the light of the moon, enveloping them in white vapor as they enter the trees. They walk in something close to silence for a while, the rumble of Luffy’s stomach and Zoro and Sanji’s bickering the only sounds bouncing back against the tree trunks.
Then, looking back as if to check they’re alone, Luffy speaks, his tone flat in the way it is when there’s really nothing neutral about how he feels. “Did you believe him?” he asks, “The guard, I mean.”
Sanji lifts his curly eyebrow. “You didn’t?”
Luffy hums under his breath. “He spoke like he cares, but he doesn’t. I can tell.”
Zoro nods, knuckles mindlessly cracking. “I did think there was something fishy,” he says. “I mean, he was the guards’ commander, he’s supposed to know how to fight. Why isn't he out here fighting the damn beast himself?”
Sanji remains quiet for a while, thinking. “He did gloss over the young lady’s death.” He pauses, jaw clenching. “I mean, one would think it’d be the most heartbreaking loss among the ones — a bloody wedding dress being all that was left, and all.”
“Something ain’t right,” Zoro comments, then he looks over at Luffy. “So, what are you hoping to find out here?”
Luffy hums again, crouching on the damp ground. “I don’t know,” he says, pointing at the spot in front of him, “but these are human footprints.”
The three men share a quiet look, before Sanji just shakes his head, making a point to tell Zoro not to move for any reason at all. “Just — Let me look,” he tells Luffy, expecting to find god-knows-what.
Luffy lifts his hands in surrender, whistling to himself as Sanji takes his place, crouched on the ground. And, sure enough, there they are. Human. Fucking. Footprints. Sanji’s eyes widen, unblinking, as he looks back and forth on the trail.
“Uh,” he says, then pauses. “I… Huh —”
“Huh,” Zoro mocks. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sanji sneers. “The footprints just disappear, you idiot! They go up five steps, then they disappear as if —” He interrupts himself, shaking his head. “I know feet, and —”
“He knows feet,” Luffy cuts in, snorting out a laugh and making Zoro snicker.
Sanji groans out loud, throwing an average of four kicks in the span of a second — all of which Zoro dodges promptly and Luffy doesn’t. “Go get lost in the fog,” he snaps. “I was saying that it fucking looks like whoever was walking here just appeared, since there are no footprints on the trail, and then took five steps and… jumped , I guess. The prints disappear again.” He looks at the other two, then, more serious. “And these are female footprints. They ain’t big, like your asshole-feet.”
Luffy pauses, then, the same realisation jumping to his head. “The little lady, huh?”
“Only her dress was found,” Zoro adds, voice grim. “Now what, she got wings?”
Luffy’s lips twitch. “Or just very long legs.”
Sanji goes quiet, his observation haki working the surroundings. Then his head snaps west, where the trees get thicker. “Something there,” he says, pointing with his eyes, “in the foliage.” Then a warning, in his face. Something strong.
Zoro’s fingers close around his sword but Luffy lifts a hand, silent.
“Come out,” he says out loud. “We don’t want this to get ugly. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us.”
There’s a moment of frozen silence. Then something — no, someone — drops on the ground, at the edge of the forest. You do.
You land on your feet like a meteor, plowing down from the top of the trees and shaking the ground around you.
The three pirates can't see much from that distance, not with the fog surrounding you, but Zoro was right: you do have wings — large ones, crow-like, with black petrol feathers. And you have onyx horns not unlike those of an aries, curling up on the sides of your head.
“She —” Sanji starts to say, but he can't finish the sentence, because you clear the fog with a flap of your wings, making the three companions shield their eyes.
But now they see you. And you, with your unforgiving eyes, your long hair flowing in the wind and almost confusing itself with the feathers tracing your body, are a holy terror.
Luffy lets out a breath, taking an instinctive step towards you, and your voice snaps like the crack of a whip.
“Do not come any closer,” you say, and Luffy can almost see you shake.
You're scared. No, not just that — you're in pain.
Your left wing seems to almost flutter and your undergarments, ripped apart and covered in blood, barely held together by a few stripes of cloth, are completely open on that side, where something sticks out.
Luffy narrows his eyes, looking better. “It’s an arrow,” he says, “we gotta get her to Chopper.”
You lift your head to look at him, your thoughts made hazy by pain. “What?” you mutter. You don't even know who these people are! You simply had no choice in coming down, hurt as you are.
Zoro puts his hand on Luffy’s arm, a warning in his tone. “Wait a second.”
“Wait for what?” Sanji exclaims, basically itching to ignore your warning and reach you.
“We don't know what happened yet,” Zoro retorts. “What if we bring her to the crew and she's dangerous?”
Luffy throws Zoro a look filled with frustration. You don't look dangerous — well, you do. You are. Frankly, Luffy can feel your raw haki from a distance, something still coarse and unfinished, but powerful nonetheless. Still, you seem pretty alright to him! But he complies. Just to play it safe.
“Plenty of people trying to kill you,” he comments, raising his voice so that you will hear. “But, judging from that arrow, I guess ya' already know.”
You groan in pain, an obvious response, as you press your hand around the wound.
Luffy stares at you, his head tilted. “You really killed those people?” he asks.
And, almost unsettled by it, you hear no judgement in his voice. Just the question itself.
You swallow a lump in your throat, shutting your eyes closed. “Yes,” you whisper. The blood… there was so much blood.
There's a pause, then Luffy asks: “Why?”
You shake your head, the pain in your side paired with the one in your heart becoming almost unbearable. I didn't really mean to — I just wanted to run. “Because they sold me off to an old, cruel man,” you reply through gritted teeth.
Sanji tenses up, giving Zoro a knowing look, and there's a crackle around Luffy, as if his muscles are striding together.
“Okay,” he says, his voice so calm it's scary. “Can I come closer?”
You shoot your head up to look at him, confused, your voice coming out ragged. “Okay? What do you mean ‘okay’?”
“I mean what I said. You need a doctor.” Luffy starts walking slowly towards you, closing the distance, and at first you seem to retaliate, your eyes round and shot like those of a feral animal, but then you double over the ground and he lets himself dart at you, his rubber arms using a tree as a slingshot.
You're in too bad a shape to be shocked over his differences — plus, you're in no position to speak — so you cling to whatever remains of your undergarments to cover your naked body, shaking all over. Your wings curl over yourself too, something that's been helping with the cold — but you've lost too much blood. So much you can barely feel your limbs.
“Please,” you stammer out, almost unable to speak, “do not — ah, please, do not give — me to them.”
Luffy shakes his head frantically as he lands next to you, and he pulls off his jacket from his shoulders. The gesture makes you flinch, but then Luffy places it on top of you, covering your naked skin. You grip on it, letting your wings open just enough to pull it on your chest.
“I ain't giving you to anybody,” he replies icily. “I'm taking you to a doctor.”
“Doctor?” you ask. You do need a doctor. In a sudden pang of consciousness, you remember how badly you're bleeding. You lift your clawed hand to look at it, slick in blood and the only sound that leaves your mouth is a hum of recognition.
The last thing you remember is the pirate with the straw hat picking you up and holding you against his chest.
Then you fall into oblivion.