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dethoratsTitle: Parallels and Right Angles
Rating: G
Pairing: Very Faint Robin/Vivi...kind of gen-ish
Word Count: 870
A/N: Rough, as I said, and Robin-centric
She was there, against all odds and reason, she was there. It would have been far better for her to have accepted defeat, to have stayed away and missed what was to come. But of course that was impossible. And no one knew that better than Mr. 0 and his accomplice. Behind the façade of Miss All-Sunday, Nico Robin swallowed back the taste of bitterness and moved through the shadows that came from her employer’s powers blocking out the sun.
Bruised, dirty porcelain skin, slender limbs that had been trained in graceful dance as well as to fight, pale blue eyes and hair that shade as rare and startling as one of her country’s few oases, Nefertari Vivi was beautiful in her pain and rage. Robin’s heart, that organ she had for so long tried to pretend she did not have because to remember it was to feel its aching loneliness, clenched and she had to fight to school her features into a blank smirk as her many arms wrapped around the princess from behind. The dagger fell from limp fingers to land with a hollow thud on the dunes that newly covered the castle courtyard. Crocodile laughed, scornful and triumphant as Vivi’s features crumpled in despair.
Two years had passed since the princess had first come to Robin’s attention. Her photo and file had been in a stack of papers describing new recruits and it had successfully made its way through the ranks of Baroque Walks all the way until Mr. 20, who had made the right connections and flagged it. Robin didn’t know whether to be impressed by Mr. 20 or prepared to send out orders to punish lower members for their lapse as she handed the file over to Mr. 0 with a small quirk of her lips. But Crocodile had only laughed around his cigar, smoke wreathing over his head as he smirked at her.
Vivi was allowed to remain, even, over time carefully promoted although never to a position where she could learn more than what Mr. 0 wanted her to know. It amused him, made his pleasure in the exploitation of Alabasta and its people all the greater, Robin knew, and she despised him for it. Despised herself for needing the excuse of his protection in his other guise as shichibukai. And so she watched out for the princess in her own way, thinking at first it was only schadenfreude but gradually being impressed in spite of herself.
Vivi was determined and strong and she never gave up. She was fighting for something bigger than her own life, a princess in truth – which was something the cynic in Robin had never expected to find – and she made friends and commanded loyalty with an ease that for a time made Robin resent her. Everything about Vivi only served to remind Robin of what she had lost and of what she had never had and so she ignored the newly minted Miss Wednesday until circumstances and a peculiar group of young pirates led by a boy in a straw hat dictated she could not.
With Mr. 0’s plan nearing fruition, she had been sent to take care of loose ends. Vivi was beneath his notice but her companion, the king’s advisor Igaram, was not. Nor were the rumors of sedition that had reached Crocodile’s ears. So she set sail for Whiskey Peak and dealt carefully with her task, aware as always of how precarious her situation in the world was and of just who might be watching. When she left, the island was in flames and the princess was in tears.
There were tears welling in Vivi’s eyes again. One spilled over, dripped onto the arm Robin held tight across her throat. They had turned, Robin reluctantly shifting the princess under Crocodile’s orders, and now she could see her father. The king was without a crown, pinned to the walls of his palace with his blood falling like raindrops onto the thirsty sand. Crocodile chuckled again, the sound vulgar in Robin’s ears, as he taunted the princess. But she refused to back down, refused to be swayed, and the tightness in Robin’s chest strained and finally snapped. Her arms tightened, pulling the girl who was all hard muscle under her deceptively soft curves closer still. Robin leaned forward, lips moving imperceptibly as she hissed at Vivi, telling her to be quiet, to stop bringing Crocodile nothing but pleasure with her impossible beliefs, but the princess refused with a stubborn shake of her head.
Vivi’s words were meant for Robin even though she shouted them at Crocodile. She would not give up, not on her country, not on Luffy and her nakama (a thought that warmed Robin a little inside as she remembered her choice in the desert), and not on herself. She struggled, writhing in Robin’s hold, and it was only the appearance of the Straw Hat himself that saved Miss All-Sunday from having to make a choice she knew she’d regret. As she retreated down the dusty, sun-baked cobblestones of Alubarna with the king in tow, for the first time in far too long Robin felt deep in her breast the faintest stirrings of hope.
Rating: G
Pairing: Very Faint Robin/Vivi...kind of gen-ish
Word Count: 870
A/N: Rough, as I said, and Robin-centric
She was there, against all odds and reason, she was there. It would have been far better for her to have accepted defeat, to have stayed away and missed what was to come. But of course that was impossible. And no one knew that better than Mr. 0 and his accomplice. Behind the façade of Miss All-Sunday, Nico Robin swallowed back the taste of bitterness and moved through the shadows that came from her employer’s powers blocking out the sun.
Bruised, dirty porcelain skin, slender limbs that had been trained in graceful dance as well as to fight, pale blue eyes and hair that shade as rare and startling as one of her country’s few oases, Nefertari Vivi was beautiful in her pain and rage. Robin’s heart, that organ she had for so long tried to pretend she did not have because to remember it was to feel its aching loneliness, clenched and she had to fight to school her features into a blank smirk as her many arms wrapped around the princess from behind. The dagger fell from limp fingers to land with a hollow thud on the dunes that newly covered the castle courtyard. Crocodile laughed, scornful and triumphant as Vivi’s features crumpled in despair.
Two years had passed since the princess had first come to Robin’s attention. Her photo and file had been in a stack of papers describing new recruits and it had successfully made its way through the ranks of Baroque Walks all the way until Mr. 20, who had made the right connections and flagged it. Robin didn’t know whether to be impressed by Mr. 20 or prepared to send out orders to punish lower members for their lapse as she handed the file over to Mr. 0 with a small quirk of her lips. But Crocodile had only laughed around his cigar, smoke wreathing over his head as he smirked at her.
Vivi was allowed to remain, even, over time carefully promoted although never to a position where she could learn more than what Mr. 0 wanted her to know. It amused him, made his pleasure in the exploitation of Alabasta and its people all the greater, Robin knew, and she despised him for it. Despised herself for needing the excuse of his protection in his other guise as shichibukai. And so she watched out for the princess in her own way, thinking at first it was only schadenfreude but gradually being impressed in spite of herself.
Vivi was determined and strong and she never gave up. She was fighting for something bigger than her own life, a princess in truth – which was something the cynic in Robin had never expected to find – and she made friends and commanded loyalty with an ease that for a time made Robin resent her. Everything about Vivi only served to remind Robin of what she had lost and of what she had never had and so she ignored the newly minted Miss Wednesday until circumstances and a peculiar group of young pirates led by a boy in a straw hat dictated she could not.
With Mr. 0’s plan nearing fruition, she had been sent to take care of loose ends. Vivi was beneath his notice but her companion, the king’s advisor Igaram, was not. Nor were the rumors of sedition that had reached Crocodile’s ears. So she set sail for Whiskey Peak and dealt carefully with her task, aware as always of how precarious her situation in the world was and of just who might be watching. When she left, the island was in flames and the princess was in tears.
There were tears welling in Vivi’s eyes again. One spilled over, dripped onto the arm Robin held tight across her throat. They had turned, Robin reluctantly shifting the princess under Crocodile’s orders, and now she could see her father. The king was without a crown, pinned to the walls of his palace with his blood falling like raindrops onto the thirsty sand. Crocodile chuckled again, the sound vulgar in Robin’s ears, as he taunted the princess. But she refused to back down, refused to be swayed, and the tightness in Robin’s chest strained and finally snapped. Her arms tightened, pulling the girl who was all hard muscle under her deceptively soft curves closer still. Robin leaned forward, lips moving imperceptibly as she hissed at Vivi, telling her to be quiet, to stop bringing Crocodile nothing but pleasure with her impossible beliefs, but the princess refused with a stubborn shake of her head.
Vivi’s words were meant for Robin even though she shouted them at Crocodile. She would not give up, not on her country, not on Luffy and her nakama (a thought that warmed Robin a little inside as she remembered her choice in the desert), and not on herself. She struggled, writhing in Robin’s hold, and it was only the appearance of the Straw Hat himself that saved Miss All-Sunday from having to make a choice she knew she’d regret. As she retreated down the dusty, sun-baked cobblestones of Alubarna with the king in tow, for the first time in far too long Robin felt deep in her breast the faintest stirrings of hope.
