At one point Robin would have given up everything to be out in the ocean, and now all she wanted to do was to return home.  Of course, this was no longer an option, so the only alternative she could consider was to drown herself, and that didn’t sound pleasant either.  In the end she was forced to live, and that was the greatest punishment the world could give her.

Having travelled almost four weeks with King - a name she couldn’t tell if he deserved or not - Robin was beginning to grow bored with each passing day.  Not that she particularly minded that, for it was a far better alternative to whatever King had in store for her.  But still, the anticipation was almost killing her, and the jeers and sneers from his crew didn’t help.  It was like they knew that something was to happen to her, and the fact that she didn’t know frustrated her to no end. 

Sometimes, on rare occasions, King would visit her.  He would never speak a word, merely stare, and she would never speak a word, looking straight back at him.  She didn’t know what he was thinking or doing in those little stare-contests of theirs.  She wondered if he thought of a hundred ways to kill her, as she did him.  Whatever the case may be, she was winning.  Two wins to her, one win to King.  Spending hours and sometimes days awake did wonders to help for her to stop blinking.

Most humiliating was when, during the times where she was allowed to eat, the pirates would taunt her.  It always came down to them either placing the plate of food just out of reach, or not bothering to unlock her arms from her cuffs.  They could easily have done so; the cuffs were clamped tightly around her ankles too, but apparently it was more enjoyable for them to watch her struggle to eat with just her mouth, like a dog.  The pirates had laughed and mocked her, throwing as many obscene words her way as possible.  Robin ignored them, for the most part.  She’d rather live in humiliation than die for their satisfaction.  

Still, that didn’t mean she could forget any of their faces.

Robin spent her time counting her teeth, when she wasn’t trying to catch a glimpse of outside her cell.  Not that the view really told her much about where she was, but the smell of sea salt and fresh air was certainly more favourable than the stench of burning leather that lingered in her cell after King’s visits.  If she were adept at navigation, she could probably tell where she was from smell alone.  She wasn’t, though, and being able to tell where you were from scent alone seemed like a pretty useless ability outside of mere curiosity.

On what could have been the eve of the fourth week, Robin was greeted by King once more.  Though, this time he seemed impatient.  Irritated.  The flame on the back of his neck was crackling violently, to the point where Robin was afraid it might set the room on fire.  It didn’t, though.  Unfortunately.

“Change of plans,” he said. “We’re taking a detour.”

Robin looked up to him, knitting her brows together. “A detour from where?” she asked.  Just as a casual reminder that he still hadn’t told her where they were going.

King ignored the question, of course. “You will be removed from this confinement shortly.  I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“Ecstatic.” 

“Don’t talk back to me,” King snapped.

The inferno flared up for a moment before dying down to a gentle blaze.  She found her eyes drawn to it once more, taking in the wintry wrath of a man who lived by fire.  This was not someone to trifle with - she couldn’t take the same chances with him as she could with the other, hot-headed pirates.  He would not kill her, but a sense of dread followed him, like the calm before a disaster.  Robin told herself she wasn’t scared of pain anymore.  Robin was a very good liar.

She swallowed.  Perhaps it was best to do as he said for now.

“I trust you know what will happen if you try to escape,” King continued. “We may need you alive, but that doesn’t mean we need all of you.”  

His gaze travelled over to her wrists hanging loosely above her head with an almost ravenous stare.  Suddenly Robin felt the need to hide her arms from him.  The implication didn’t sit very well with her, and her arms were her most useful asset besides her mind.  To take them away would be to take away her very will to fight.  But she couldn’t hide them, as they lay bare for King to see, and she had the chilling sensation that he was slicing them up in his mind.

Although much of his face was hidden behind that abhorrent leather mask, Robin had the feeling he was smiling at that moment with what could only be called sadism. 

“I trust I have your full cooperation?” King asked - the first question he had ever uttered in the four weeks.  

What choice did she even have?

“Yes,” she answered, head hung low.  

“Good.” King left the prison, letting her linger in the stench of ash and burnt leather.  

It took less than a day for Robin to find out what exactly King meant by a ‘detour’.  Detours, as it turned out, meant battle.  She was taken, still cuffed in seastone, to a room far below the deck, only able to catch a glimpse of the sun and a faint outline of an island they were approaching.  The pirate escorting her said something about how she should be grateful they were offering her so much protection.  Robin imagined shoving her fist down his throat.

The pirate shoved her roughly into the new prison - not so much a cell as before, but actual sleeping quarters now.  A single king bed laid in the corner of the room, the walls covered in ornaments and spoils of war.  The walls were painted black half-hazardly - but on closer inspection, they were not painted, they were burned.   She was in the berth of the ship, and whoever this room belonged to - she had a pretty good idea - was someone of importance here.

Just as the pirate began to say, “Now listen here,” the whole room - no, the ship itself - rocked, and the two were thrown against a wall violently.  

Cursing profanities, the pirate was the first to recover, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s started already?”

“What’s started?” Robin asked from the floor, unable to stand up. “What’s going on?”

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.” The pirate stomped his foot with every word.  His skin was pale, and his eyes were wide, and sweat dripped down the back of his neck.  For someone who was reacting like a petulant child, he was keeping his balance quiet well despite the tremors and shaking the ship was experiencing.  Unlike Robin, who was already weakened by the seastone cuffs. 

The pirate locked the door, her only exit out of the room, and shoved the keys in his pocket.  Robin briefly wondered if the keys to her cuffs were in the ring - a thought that was swiftly replaced by a blinding white pain.  Her head was turned to the side, and she tasted iron in her mouth.

“Don’t you even think about it,” the pirate snarled from above her.  He patted his pocket.  If he didn’t look so frightened by whatever was outside, Robin would be intimidated. “We’re just making sure you’re not seen by anyone.”

Robin struggled to sit up, leaning against the wall.  The pirate seemed to enjoy watching her suffer and humiliated, the one thing giving him satisfaction during this clearly troubling time.  Finally, she could sit up somewhat properly, her hands tied behind her back and blood dripping from her nose - broken. 

She glared up at him.

“Whatever’s outside is enough to warrant King moving me from my prison,” she said. “If it’s a Marine or Government ship - which I doubt, as King knew beforehand that I would have to be moved, and the only way I can see them being an issue is if they caught you by surprise - then I wouldn’t have to be worried, and you wouldn’t have to be worried.  If it were an enemy pirate ship, the only reason you would be scared this much is if they were considerably more dangerous than you are -”

“SHUT UP!”

“- so I can only assume it’s a pirate ship out there, and, if they know who I am, then they must know of my abilities,” she continued. “The reason I’m here is because you can’t risk losing me.”

From the moment the pirate’s hand twitched and she felt the impact against her temple, she knew she was right.  Such a visceral reaction wouldn’t have happened otherwise.  

Feeling a sort of satisfaction along with the throbbing pain in her head, Robin’s eyes travelled from the pirate to the door.  The trembling and rumbling continued, along with screams, yells, gunshots and cannonfire.  It was pure and utter chaos outside, that much she could tell.  But still, if there was the slightest chance she could be removed from King’s prison, and run away freely…

“HELP!” Robin howled. “PLEASE, ANYONE!”

Her voice hurt from not being used, but that didn’t stop her from screaming her lungs out.  A little humiliating, true, but anything, anything was better than staying with these pirates for any longer.  

The pirate swore and lunged forward - Robin ducked underneath his reach.  He banged his head against the wall, groaning in pain while Robin lifted herself, struggling heavily, to her feet.  Without another word, she ran for the door and slammed against it with her shoulder.

“I’M IN HERE!” 

The door didn’t budge. In fact, she barely made a dent on it.  What was worse, the pirate was now recovered and glowering at her.  With a raging cry, he ran forward again like a bull, and tackled her to the ground. 

Snap.

Robin did not make a sound, but the Beast did.  A small gasp escaped his lips and he jumped back off her, the weight gone from her arm.  That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.  Internally she screamed, oh how she screamed, but externally she merely tried to get up onto her feet once more, determined to throw her body against the door again.  

The pirate snatched her arm before she could begin running again.  She winced at the sudden pain jolting up her body, grinding her teeth to stop herself from screaming.  

“King’s gonna fucking kill me,” the pirate groaned as he pulled her back from the door. “We’re not supposed to hurt you -”

Robin bit him.

He kicked her shins.

It was a mutual relationship they had.

She didn’t know how long they scuffled for, her only weapon being her teeth while he retaliated and made her bruise in return.  All the while the ship trembled and rocked dangerously, causing the pair of them to stumble and fall every-so-often.  Their fight was only halted when the door suddenly slammed open - not opened by unlocking it, but by sheer force.

The relief on Robin’s face was bright, and her smile lit up for the first time in months.  This was it, her saviour had come.  She could finally rest easy and escape this place.

“ZEHAHAHA!”

For some reason, the laugh sent chills down her spine, and she didn’t know why.  In her vision stood a hulking mass of a man, the stench of alcohol and smoke and blood wafting from his direction.  She would have gagged, had she not been so desperate to leave at that moment.  The new pirate grinned down at her with hunger, half of his teeth missing.  Robin looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Didn’t know King was into that!” the stranger said, amusement clear in his voice.  Whipping out a pistol in his hand, he shot the Beast dead and leaned towards her, leering. “Little girls ain’t my thing, but who am I to judge him?”

His grubby hands grasped her throat, lifting her up off the ground.  She choked and struggled against his hold to no avail - he was simply too strong for her, especially in her weakened state.  

“Now, now, why do ya look so familiar?” He tilted his head, bringing Robin closer to him.  The pong of his breath was overwhelming now.  It took all of her energy not to throw up. “Ah!  I know!”  

He leered at her, and Robin felt her heart sink.

“Nice ta finally meetcha, Devil’s Child!  ZEHAHAHA!”

---

Marco prided himself on being one of Pop’s commanders.  It was the greatest honour one could have onboard the Moby Dick - no, in the seas.  Not only was he trusted enough to be a commander in one of the Emperor’s ships, but he was deemed important enough by the Government to have almost a billion berries on his head.  He was flattered, honestly.  But in his mind, he - and everyone else onboard the Moby Dick - were priceless.

Unfortunately, it was not the Government who were so desperately fighting for their lives against him in that moment, nor were it the Marines.  No, it was a rival pirate crew.  How incredibly dull.  At least, that was Marco’s first reaction.

Then he spied the flag that the enemy ship sailed, and heard Whitebeard’s distinct “GURARARA!” from behind him, and excitement ran up his blood like a shot of electricity.  

Kaido’s crew.

Marco grinned from ear to ear, his brows narrowed down to a look of pure hunger for battle.  He squatted on the railing of the Moby Dick, blue flaming wings flickering behind him.  The rest of the crew readied themselves, armed with whatever weapons or powers they could use.  And Whitebeard sat proudly behind them all, grasping Murakumogiri in his hand.  They were all ready for a challenge.

More importantly, they were ready for revenge.  They’d heard what happened to Oden, and while they weren’t willing to attack Wano in the case that one of their own would be hurt or worse, Kaido was not enough of a fool to declare war on Whitebeard for attacking one of his ships in neutral territory.

“You’d better have some grog on you, brats!” Pops declared. “My kids are hungry!”

The Whitebeard Pirates cheered and cried out a war cry.  

On the other ship, there was silence.  Not a single word uttered, despite them seeing a crowd of Beast Pirates on the deck.  Then, Marco felt a thumping in his chest, a vibration in his very bones.  A distant BOOM, BOOM, BOOM  that reverberated throughout the ocean, but not a sound that was cannonfire - no, this was… bizarre.  This was something that he couldn’t explain.  This was…

Funk.

The rhythm pounded against their skin, making even the ocean ripple and waves crash against both their ships.  An island nearby was hearing the full burst of funk, seagulls soaring from the tops of trees with a unified screech - a sound that could not be heard over the blaring music.  Marco did not feel scared, certainly, but there was an air of confusion around the Whitebeard Pirates.  He glanced back to look at Pops.  Whitebeard looked unimpressed.

Shrugging, Marco turned his attention back to the Beasts’ ship.  This certainly wasn’t Kaido onboard, by any means - he wouldn’t be so theatrical.  So vain.  Whoever was onboard the ship, whichever poor soul had encountered an Emperor, was relishing in this moment.

The enemy ship rocked from side to side, not enough to tip the whole thing over, but enough to cause the pirates to almost lose their balance.  Marco stood up from his perch.  He was curious about what sort of pirate was making such a noise.

“I’ve got a plague, and that plague is funkin’!”

Some of the Beasts dispersed, creating a path along the deck.

“It excites me to my core, I’mma chunking!”

Finally, the pirate came into view - a man Marco had never seen before.  He was a massive, round-figured man, one that danced to the beat of the music.  His body jiggled with every move he made in an almost hypnotizing fashion, the blond braid at the back of his head bouncing up and down.  He entered the scene with flair, with vanity, and with so much theatricality that Marco thought he was overcompensating for something.

“LET ME HEAR YOU SAY IT! ONE, TWO…!”

Not a word was spoken amongst the Beasts, nor the Whitebeard Pirates.  Marco could practically sense Pops growing impatient with every second that passed.  It seemed he wasn’t the only impatient one.

The round man whipped his whole body around to face his crew and roared, “YOU USELESS MAGGOTS!  CAN’T YOU GET THIS SIMPLE SHIT RIGHT?”, before throwing a nearby barrel at them.  Most of the crew ran away before it could hit them, save for a large boy with pigtails, who felt the full force of the impact.  The poor boy was holding a transponder snail in his hand, and didn’t see it coming.

Marco just decided that he didn’t like this man very much.

Evidently, Whitebeard didn’t either.  The old man slammed his naginata down, shockwaves reverberating around them as he unleashed his haki. “Who the hell are you, brat?” He didn’t have to raise his voice to a shout to be heard over the thumping music.

The said music stopped, and the round man turned to stare at Whitebeard.  A moment of silence passed between the two ships.

“HOLY SHIT?  WHITEBEARD?” the man screeched, his jaw dropping.  He began to sweat bullets. “YOU DIDN’T SAY HE WAS HERE!”

One of the Beasts said something incoherent in the man’s ear.  That seemed to calm him down somewhat, as he turned back to the Whitebeard Pirates.

“UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I DON’T HAVE ANY GROG ON ME!” he declared. “BUT I GOT SOMETHING THAT’LL SEND CHILLS UP YOUR SPINE!  LISTEN UP, I’M QUEEN!  AND I GOT SOMETHING THAT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!”

He raised his arm and lowered it quickly.  Then, everything happened at once.  All the cannons on their ship exploded with a BOOM, the cannonfire approaching their ship at a rapid pace.  Marco and the others were able to knock most of the balls into the ocean, but some hit the Moby Dick - barely scratching it, of course.  But it seemed that didn’t help the Whitebeard Pirates at all.

After a moment passed, smoke began erupting from the balls.  Purple smoke.

Marco swore.  Poison gas.

He screamed at as many as he could to cover their mouths and to get inside - he would be alright, with his powers, but what about the rest of them?  Jumping up from the railing, he covered the old man and his brothers in his flames in an effort to protect them from the gas.  

In a manner of moments, the worst of the fog lifted, but by then it was too late.  Half the crew was choking and writhing around the floor.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  The Beasts had, in that time, sailed to them, and grappled at the Moby Dick with their own galleon.  Pirates were climbing up ropes, weapons in hands, and prepared to battle.

King stared right back at her with an almost unamused expression in his eyes.  Robin tried her best to look bored at that moment, praying in her head that it would work.  She found it easier to escape punishment if she didn’t scream or cry or beg for mercy.

No mercy would come, anyway.

“Nico Robin,” said King.  His voice was deep, yet burned like a spark about to be set ablaze. “You know how to read the Poneglyphs.”  It wasn’t a question.

Kings didn’t ask questions.

Robin’s gaze drifted around the room.  They had come prepared, with seastone cuffs and bars to prevent her from escaping.  They also had apparently been very prepared for her in particular - judging from the newspaper clippings pinned to the wall, to the dagger that stuck her wanted poster at the door.  She swallowed, and looked back to King.