Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ace loved parties. But parties with the Whitebeards were especially fun, not that he’d been to too many parties beforehand, but the point still stood- Whitebeard parties were the best.

They’d really gone all out on this one too. They were on the uninhabited side of one of Pop’s claimed spring islands, so there were no villagers to complain about the noise or fighting- or explosions… 

The beach, itself, was large and sloped easily up to a grassy area, the treeline not starting for many more feet back. Thatch had immediately claimed that area and started preparing for a feast. 

There were even tide pools a ways down that Ace had spent the afternoon at, picking up pretty shells Thatch and him could use in their next “birds like shiny things” prank. (And maybe also because for all Marco acted annoyed Ace knew he kept the best ones on a shelf in his room.) (Ace and Thatch might have a competition going on who could get more things on that shelf- Izo was winning right now and he wasn’t even playing). 

Now though the sun had set, the bonfires were burning and the booze was open. 

Ace grinned happily from his place probably a bit too close to a fire. All logias had some issues getting drunk but Thatch had gotten out a couple gallons of the cheap stuff that basically killed a normal person's liver in one shot in an effort to get Marco drunk. It wasn’t working so far but Ace was having fun. 

“What are you doing?” a voice said. Ace blinked and looked up at an exasperatedly amused Marco. 

“Sitting,” Ace replied smartly, waving his bottle of potent… something. 

“Ah yeah no,” Marco said immediately, snatching the bottle from him. Utterly immune to Ace’s pouting, he said, “You can have this back when you're not literally sitting in the fire.”

Ace frowned looking around, was he? Ah yes he was, hu wonder when that happened. Something on his face (a mixture of confusion and befuddlement) must have prompted Marco to take pity on him because he reached out a hand to pull Ace up. (Blue flames sparking up at the contact). 

“Come on,” Marco sighed, hefting Ace up and steadying him as he swayed. “I think Thatch just managed to ditch his cooking duties, let’s go find him.” 

Ace hummed in agreement, a lazy smile on his face. He felt good, it was warm, it was nice. 

“Aaaccce,” Marco whined, as the fire-starter draped himself over his back. Marco only got a dazzling grin in return so retaliated by throwing the other over his shoulder. 

Ace yelped as he was lifted off the ground, legs dangling on Marco’s back, front trying futility to twist to see where they were going. He could hear the laughing of crew mates as they went by and pouted, going limp in the blond’s hold. 

Eventually they got where they were going and Marco tossed Ace onto the ground, taking up his own perch on a crate that had probably been carried over just for that purpose. Ace decided to pout some more, refusing to move from where he’d been thrown and sprawling out more to take up as much walking space as possible. 

Thatch was his first (and sadly last) victim of the night. “Hey Marc- ah fuck Ace!!” Thatch yelled as he stumbled over the raven haired. Quickly jumping to put out the fire that caught his pants leg (Ace wasn’t actually going to let people step on him. Well technically yes but he was fire so- look it was a good prank).

He found himself giggling, sending a shit-eating grin over to Thatch, as the chief hopped around and smothered the fire with sand. (Ace had good control of his flames; it wouldn’t actually burn him , his clothes on the other hand~).

Pop’s booming laugh startled Ace enough to look around. Marco had apparently brought them over to the largest bonfire, where Pop’s and most of the division commanders were hanging around (as opposed to the one he had been at- the one closest to the food). 

“Are you having fun, son?” Pop’s asked, looking down at Ace. The kid man was glad for the flickering firelight as it hid his blush. Even after six months on the crew (and becoming a division commander!) hearing himself called son did things to his heart. (Having someone claim him, openly and without reservation, even knowing what he was-). 

“Yeah, Pops!” Ace grinned back up at him, heart swelling as the large man let out another booming laugh. Ace decided to move and shuffled up out of the way, making a place for himself leaning against the crate Marco was sitting on. The other reached down, ruffling his hair and Ace couldn’t bring himself to do much more than halfheartedly lean out of the way. Seas when had he ever been this happy?

Since joining the crew it was like a weight had been lifted off him. Like he had finally found land after drifting his whole life. Ace closed his eyes and leaned again Marco’s leg, the other’s hand running over his hair and settling on his shoulder, letting Ace rest his head on his thigh.

Thatch had come back over and Ace could hear him talking with Marco but he didn’t feel any need to listen to or join the conversation. Content just being . 

Focusing, he could feel his bounds humming softly, content and happy, close . Getting adopted by Pops, becoming sworn brothers with Marco and Thatch- it had tethered him to the world in a way he badly needed. Ace no longer felt like he was one bad day away from losing his grip. 

(Of course, Luffy and Sabo had done that for him when he was younger. He never would have made it without them. But Sabo was gone far away, their link was fragile and thin. And he loved Luffy, loved him with everything that he had, but Luffy was a D too and sometimes Ace couldn’t help but feel like he was holding him back.) 

(Luffy was meant for something bigger, greater. Ace could feel it. Could feel it in the way Luffy always knew who to trust and who to not. In the way animals moved around him when they weren’t hunting, neither aggressive nor scared but deferential. In the way that sometimes Luffy said something and the world stopped to listen. In the way he sometimes felt the urge to kneel ). 

Marco, Thatch and Pops grounded him, gave him purpose and reason, unconditional love just for being there. Ace didn’t think he’d realized how badly he needed that until the bounds had settled into place, always more reassuring than restrictive. (Maybe trying to kill the strongest man in the world alone should have been a clue, but Ace never claimed to be very self aware). 

At some point Marco had given him his bottle back (or actually, this was a different one, he must have drunk the other, the bastard) and nursed it, not really in an attempt to get drunk but more to have something to occupy his hands with. 

Ace smiled and rested lazily as the rest of the crew started to get a bit rowdier as they got a bit drunker. Then Haruta pronounced it was singing time, which Thatch happily joined in on. Izo led the dancing around the fire with his usual grace, while the others flailed and laughed around them. 

Pops kept time with one giant foot and someone had brought out instruments at some point as Jozu was currently going at it on a guitar. 

After a particularly loud rendition of Bink’s Sake, Thatch threw up a loud “here here,” splashing some 80% proof on the fire and making it flame up. Izo turned and bowed to the watching crew getting whistles and cheers. Ace could feel Marco’s leg bouncing as he clapped. 

“Requests, requests! What have we got?” Thatch yelled out. 

“Blow the Man Down!” “No, do Roll the Old Chariot!” “That’s too bloody repetitive! We’ll be here all night!” “Haul Away Joe!” “Whoowhoo, Haul Away Joe!” “Need to get you some ladies, mate?” “Fuck off.” “Could always try the nurses-” “I’m not stupid or suicidal.” “Just fucking pick one already!” “Oi, oi what about Our King?”

The shouting quieted as Thatch pointed out that suggestion. “Our King? Seas when was the last time I heard that. Don’t know if I even remember all the words, oi Marco-”

“Don’t look at me,” the first mate immediately denied. “I don’t sing.”

“But you’ll know the words since your older-”

“I. Don’t. Sing.” 

“Knew I should have gotten the 90% stuff,” Thatch muttered. 

“What,” Marco said, eye twitching. 

“Nothing!” Thatch said quickly spinning around to Pops. “Hey Pops! Help us out. Can you start off Our King?” 

Pops laughed. “That old song hu? Humm it’s been a while but I recall it starting like this.” Pop started tapping his large thumb against his thigh making a steady beat on each whole note. Everyone on the beach quieted and paid attention as Pops booming voice sang out. 

Eight hundred years in the making

Tremors building, foundations shaking 

Someday we will be taking, 

All that you’ve built down.

Good riddance hope you drown.

Laughter jumped up around the fire at Pops dramatic delivery while Thatch, a few other commanders and older pirates joined in on the next verse. 

The Sea has not forgotten.

Davy Jones will not forgive. 

So go hide up in your towers,

And pray that you will live.

Jeers sounded on the last lines, more voices picking up as they recognized and half recalled the song. 

Man to man the torch is past.

In solitude it could not last.

We will do what we were asked,

By the one we’re waiting for.

Someday you’ll be no more.

Voices were lost again as people looked to Pops for the next verse, which he provided without missing a beat. 

A hundred years forgotten,

A hundred years once lost.

When were freed from bloodied chains,

Then you shall pay the cost.

Merciless will be the storm,

Tearing down what was the norm.

After which we will transform,

To match our hearts again.

As free as we were then.

Thatch’s voice picked up enthusiastically, belting out the next line. 

So sit there quaking in your boots,

You can not stop this tide.

A dream that’s been years in the making,

Will one day be realized.

A distant crown and empty throne,

We wait for who’ll claim it as his own.

You only reap what you have sown,

A debt long overdue.

Someday we’ll be rid of you.

Apparently the next verses were more common as practically everyone sang out. 

While now might be too early,

We’ll weather it with pride.

We know one day he’ll come surly,

For the King can never die.

Beside him Marco froze sharply at those lyrics, looking worriedly down at Ace. But the D didn’t notice him, face in a frown and brows furrowed. 

Wish we could see that shining sun,

That raising Dawn of dreams.

But alas it’s not yet begun,

Not for our lives it seems.

Ace was full on glaring now, his knee bouncing up and down in agitation. “Ace?” Marco said quietly, leaning over to him. 

But don’t lose heart we’re not alone, 

On the sea we call our home.

Pains just a friend we all have known.

Though the future hard to see,

Know a reckoning there will be.

“That’s not right,” Ace bit out, chewing on his lip like he was stopping himself from saying something else. 

For the Sea has not forgotten,

And Davy Jones will not forgive.

One day they’ll have a King to carry out,

The sentence they will give.

Ace made a low noise of agonized frustration, his shoulders sparking, as Marco watched on in concern. 

Someday our King will carry out,

The sentence they will give.

The last lines were belted out by almost everyone, but Thatch, being the dramatic idiot that he was, carried it out, raising his hand and striking a pose. He probably would have been able to hold it for another minute or so if Ace hadn’t jumped up and burst out, “That’s not right!”

Thatch stopped and sputtered in confusion, losing the note. He was turning around with a whine of “Ace” on his lips when he got a look at how agitated the younger man was. 

Marco was hovering behind Ace with a confused but concerned look on his face, having pushed the crate he was sitting on back to keep it out of spark range. 

And Ace was sparking. Tufts of hair and random parts of his body flickering into flames as he stood there arms crossed with a fierce scowl on his face. 

“Uhh-” Thatch started nervously, under Ace’s full attention as he had been the last one singing. “What’s not right?”

“The song!” Ace burst out like it should be obvious. “The lyrics are all wrong!”

Thatch raised an eyebrow. “Those are Pops’ lyrics,” he pointed out reasonably. 

Ace’s face scrunched up into an adorable look of confliction (not that anyone would ever mention it) (except maybe Marco he could survive) as he weighed his conviction and stubbornness against it being something from Pops. 

He looked a little less sure of himself, but still held his ground, “We’ll then he heard them wrong! Those aren’t the right words.”

“Songs can have a lot of different versions-?” Thatch prompted looking over Ace’s shoulder at Marco for help, who just shrugged his shoulders in equal bewilderment. 

“No! It’s-” Ace made an unintelligible sound of frustration. He didn’t know why this song bugged him so much, he couldn’t remember ever hearing it before. But the words were wrong and he knew that. He didn’t know how he knew he just did, with the same physical certainty that he could feel Marco behind him, Thatch in front of him and Pops beside him. (And Luffy back on Dawn and Sabo- somewhere- ). 

Further pondering was halted by Pops' laugh. “Can you share the right lyrics with us then, son?” he asked kindly, no hint of condescension in his voice, as if he truly and completely believed that Ace had the right lyrics to share with them. 

“Ah,” Ace froze, eyes going wide. He hadn’t thought about having to sing when he stood up, he just- he just needed to correct them, because they were wrong. He didn’t need to sing, right? Right?  

“Yep,” Thatch agreed instantly. “If Ace think’s he’s got the right lyrics then it’s his job to sing it for all of us. Three cheers for Commander Ace,” Thatch rallied, instantly getting cheers in response. 

Ace whipped back around to Marco, eyes wide and panicking. But the other just shrugged at him as if to say, “You got yourself into this mess, don’t look at me.” 

Ace’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Um right ah.” He looked around nervously at everyone and tried to console himself by remembering that they were all fairly drunk and wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. 

(He was wrong, this was literally the only thing everyone would remember in the morning. The Sea must hate him.)

Ace cleared his throat, wondering if it had been his own drinking that was making him do this in the first place. “Ah right um, Pops what was the first line again?” he asked sheepishly.  

“Eight hundred years in the making,” Pops replied easily. 

“I thought you were supposed to know the right lyrics,” Thatch muttered none too quietly. 

“Shut up, Thatch,” Ace snapped. “That one was right.” Thatch held up his hands in surrender, which looked like it was to Ace, but was actually to Marco’s death glare at him. (He really wanted to see Ace sing and Thatch would be in for it if he scared Ace off). 

“Right ok, eight hundred years,” he muttered in practice. Ace took one last deep breath, drew strength from Pops relaxed, encouraging smile and started: 

Eight hundred years in the making

Tremors building, foundations shaking

This new generations taking,

All that you’ve built down.

Good riddance hope you drown.

The Sea has not forgotten,

Davy Jones will not forgive. 

So go hide up in your towers,

And pray that you’ll live.

Man to man the torch is past.

In solitude it could not last.

But he seems to be approaching fast,

The one we’ve waited for.

Soon you will be no more.

The entire campsite had quieted down. Each person straining to hear as the still night air carried Ace’s voice over them, only disrupted by the crackling of the fires. 

A hundred years forgotten,

A hundred years once lost.

No more chained in blood and tears,

For once you’ll pay the cost.

Merciless  will be the storm,

Tearing down what was the norm.

After which we will transform,

To match our hearts again.

As free as we were then.

So sit there quaking in your boots,

You can not stop this tide.

A dream that’s been years in the making,

Is about to be realized.

A distant crown and empty throne,

With will and might he’ll make his own.

You only reap what you have sown,

A debt long overdue.

We’ll soon be rid of you.

Some quiet murmurs went around the camp as people started to realize what, exactly, in the lyrics was changing. As for Ace, on any other day the next lines would have made him balk and pause but as it was, he barely noticed the words.

Twenty years too early,

It was just the foreshocks then.

In the waves that follow surly,

He’ll roam the seas again.

Ace picked up confidence and speed. All but shouting the words into the night, while still keeping the rhythm and tone. 

Can you see the sun that’s shining?

The Dawn that’s breaking here.

The pieces now are aligning,

There’s nothing left to fear.

He felt an inexplicable rising of pride as the next verse flew seamlessly from his lips, words he’d never spoken before stringing together as if they’d always belonged there. 

Hats off, bow to our King.

Revel in the change he’ll bring.

It’s time to let freedom ring.

Too late for you to hide,

Your crimes have been verified.

For the Sea has not forgotten,

And Davy Jones will not forgive. 

Now with a King to carry out,

The sentence they will give.

Now our King will carry out,

The sentence that they give.

Ace finished strongly drawing out the note into the silence of the night, the entire crew holding their breath in some half forgotten reverence. 

Then breaking the silence like a thunder clap, Pops brought his hands together and started applauding. It didn’t take more than a few seconds after that for the rest of the crew to break out into loud cheers. Many standing up and whistling. 

Thatch ran over with a grin and threw an arm around Ace’s shoulder. “Ace! My buddy, my pal, my brother, I didn’t know you could sing! You’ve been holding out on us.”

Ace’s face suddenly burned as he came down from the performance high and realized exactly what he had just done. Thatch, likely expecting this response, got his arm away with minimal singeing as Ace’s shoulders and hair went up. 

“There, there,” Marco said with half-genuine sympathy. “You have a very nice voice,” he soothed, as he patted out the flames on Ace’s shoulders. 

Ace, who had buried his face in his hands in embarrassment, now turned to Marco and tried to hide in his shoulder. 

“Marco,” he whined. Marco laughed, wrapping his arms around the other and patting his back. 

“You know they’ll make you sing at all of these now right?” Marco asked in amusement. 

Ace made a pathetic sound of agony, “Take pity, kill me now.”

“Nope, nope, none of that,” Thatch butted in, giving Ace a hearty slap on the back. “I have a new partner in crime and now I have a new singing buddy. Just who would have guessed they’d be the same person?”

“Noooo, Thatch,” Ace protested. 

“I’ll bring enough of the good alcohol for you next time,” Thatch needled. 

Ace turned in Marco’s hold so he could be looking at Thatch, mouth starting to open in response but then closing in consideration. “How good?” he asked critically.

A chuckle called all of their attention back over to their father as he smiled fondly at them. “That is certainly how you bargain, brat,” he grinned, then his smile turned into something more soft. “Thank you for sharing that with us, Ace. I’m an old man now and never thought I’d live to see it, but you, you’re future, give me something to look forward to.” 

Ace was stunned and just blinked at Pops as he failed to process the heartfelt thanks. Pops chuckled lightly again. “Just say your welcome,” he prompted. 

“You’re welcome, Pops,” Ace mumbled out, face burning. 

Pops nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Oh and Ace, I’m very thankful you're here, son.” 

Ace felt his heart swell with love. Feeling safe and secure, surrounded by his family. He leaned further back into Marco’s arms prompting the other to tighten his hold on him. 

“Yeah,” Ace said softly, a genuine relaxed smile on his face. 

He was very thankful he was here too.

Chapter Text

Our King---> (Ace’s Changed Song Lyrics)

Eight hundred years in the making

Tremors building, foundations shaking 

Someday we will be taking,   -----------------> This new generations taking,

All that you’ve built down.

Good riddance hope you drown.

The Sea has not forgotten.

Davy Jones will not forgive. 

So go hide up in your towers,

And pray that you’ll live.

Man to man the torch is past.

In solitude it could not last.

 We will do what we were asked,   ------------> But he seems to be approaching fast,

By the one we’re waiting for.   ---------------> The one we’ve waited for.

Someday you’ll be no more.   ----------------> Soon you will be no more.

A hundred years forgotten,

A hundred years once lost.

When were freed from bloodied chains,   ------> No more chained in blood and tears, 

Then you shall pay the cost.   ----------------> For once you’ll pay the cost.

Merciless will be the storm, 

Tearing down what was the norm.

After which we will transform,

To match our hearts again.

As free as we were then.

So sit there quaking in your boots,

You can not stop this tide.

A dream that’s been years in the making,

Will one day be realized.   --------------------> Is about to be realized.

A distant crown and empty throne,

We wait for who’ll claim it as his own.   --------> With will and might he’ll make his own.

You only reap what you have sown,

A debt long overdue.

Someday we’ll be rid of you.   ---------------> We’ll soon be rid of you. 

While now might be too early,   --------------> Twenty years too early,

But we’ll weather it with pride.   -------------> It was just the foreshock then. 

We know one day he’ll come surly,   ---------> In the waves that follow surly, 

For the King can never die.   ----------------> He’ll roam the seas again.

Wish we could see that shining sun,   --------> Can you see the sun that’s shining?

That raising Dawn of dreams.   --------------> The Dawn that’s breaking here.

But alas it’s not yet begun,   ----------------> The pieces now are aligning,

Not for our lives it seems.   -----------------> There’s nothing left to fear.

But don’t lose heart we’re not alone,   --------> Hats off, bow to our King. 

On the sea we call our home.   ---------------> Revel in the change he’ll bring.

The pains just a friend we all have known.   ----> It’s time to let freedom ring.

Though the future hard to see,   -------------> Too late for you to hide,

Know a reckoning there will be.   ------------> Your crimes have been verified.

For the Sea has not forgotten,

And Davy Jones will not forgive. 

One day they’ll have a King to carry out,   ----> Now with a King to carry out,

The sentence they will give.

Someday our King will carry out,   ----------> Now our King will carry out,

The sentence they will give.   --------------> The sentence that they give.