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Chapter Text

God Valley was an awesome and stunning island, which wasn’t unusual in this world filled with strange and beautiful islands. The variety of this world was after all one of the most amazing things in it. Still, God Valley was unique, marked by tall, steep cliffs and canyons rich with minerals and ore, interspersed with rare and strong green life. Its most distinctive feature was the split rock formation dominating most of the island, seeming like two horns piercing the sky, evoking the images of ancient beasts.

Most of the time, Alain would have reveled in the beauty and explored the island, eager to discover its nature.

Standing amidst it all as ordered, seeing what he was, Alain was torn by disgust and hatred, feeling an indescribable pressure that was impossible to ignore.

Alain was to wait here. To patiently wait while his mentor attended to his business. Meanwhile, all around he saw nightmarish scenes of suffering and despair all around, impossible to ignore.

He was no stranger to the worst of the masses. Alain knew of their depravity. Their selfishness and cruelty. He’d seen it firsthand. Yet he had no words for what he was seeing.

God Valley. That was the sin of the island's people. In daring to claim even a slight association with the divine they had incurred the wrath of the Celestial Dragons. For that sin they would all die and their island would be claimed in retribution.

Alain knew retribution. He knew hate and pride. He knew of punishment and what it was to execute another person. Or kill them, anyway.

Yet watching the looks of despair and hearing the pitiful cries of mercy of the people of God Valley, having seen them rounded up and caged like animals, all while the Celestial Dragons merrily and eagerly prepare for their ‘hunting’ competition…..

Alain wasn’t a fool or sheltered. He knew cruelty and indifference and selfishness. How mortals could take to it like fish to water. In some ways, this was nothing he hadn’t seen before. He’d seen things like this in Panem. In the Capitol.

Yet even his memories of the most bloodthirsty and solipsistic Capitolites didn’t compare to what the Celestial Dragons were.

They at least, even at their worst, seemed to have a measure of basic humanity these Celestial Dragon’s seemed to lack.

The people of the Capitol had often indulged their worst impulses, exercising cruelty and suffering on the Districts on a daily basis.

Yet they never seemed so gone as these Celestial Dragons.

These gods.

Gods.

Few things angered gods as one claiming the title when they had no right to it, particularly mortals. Alain had met many over the course of his life, even studied and lived with them. Poseidon. Eshu. Demeter. Mila of the Grain and Runog of the Deep. Kyprioth and the Graveyard Hag.

They were difficult and tempestuous. 

Understanding them was a task.

Yet for all their faults, they always felt as if they were something more. They always carried with them a feeling that could be felt that said to everyone who could perceive it that they truly were greater, at least in some way. The Celestial Dragons in comparison were the basest, most common of beings. They offered nothing to the world. As selfish and vain and arrogant as gods could be, at least most gods offered something to the world.

The Celestial Dragons would hunt over 100,000 people for sport, assigning them points in accordance to difficulty and importance. They had set up refreshment and concession stands. Had brought along their children to show off. For extra entertainment, their slaves would also be added. People whose lives had been only torment since they’d been enslaved by the Celestial Dragon would also be killed for sport.

Men, women, and children would die, all for the sake of a name and entertainment.

Afterwards, the Celestial Dragons would laugh and celebrate.

Meanwhile, Alain had been ordered to wait and do nothing.

Nothing.

Alain was no god. He was a Guide. His job….was it not his job to do something? His job was to obey orders. To observe only and do nothing.

Nothing.

His orders would have him do nothing while all this happened.

While this island was scoured and pillaged, its people were killed for sport.

And he would be expected to do nothing.

Alain had done nothing several times. He had done nothing for Finnick. For Johanna. For Beetee and Wiress. For Rue. For Katniss. For the Districts. Done nothing to help them.

As a Guide, Alain was bound by rules, and obeying those rules had meant letting all those people suffer. Had meant inaction while the Hunger Games played out and the Districts starved. Now, it seemed he was in the same place again.

Even now, with so much time passed, Alain still dreamed of them. Of Panem. He remembered the emaciated bodies in Districts 11 and 12. The sickness wracking 3 and 8. The despair in 6 and 9. He remembered Johanna weeping over her dead family and the hollow look in Finnick’s eyes after a visit to the Capitol. He recalled Katniss wandering the streets trying to sell baby clothes and Rue bleeding out in the arena. He remembered Cashmere and Gloss and how they had been twisted because of his blessing.

All of it the result of his actions and inaction.

Not one day passed that they didn’t haunt his thoughts and dreams.

He had been told that obeying the rules and laws was paramount for Guides.

Yet…was obeying those rules and laws worth it?

The despair and heartbreak and outrage and pain and fear was palpable, coating the island like miasma.

He saw their tears and blood spill, their cries fill the sky.

All the while the Celestial Dragon’s complained, ordering the captives beaten into silence.

Excited as they were to engage in their Native Hunting Competition, they were beginning to miss the atmosphere of Mary Geoise, for all that the island was filled with all the luxury anybody could want.

Looking at them, then at everything else, all Alain could feel was hatred and disgust.

In Panem, limited though he had been, Alain could act.

Here, Alain could do nothing.

Such were his orders. They had to be obeyed. Alain had been taught Ad Nauseum.

A vital lesson.

Yet….what did it mean, to obey orders amidst all of this?

For as long as he could remember, Alain had always obeyed his mentor. Had trusted his judgment. He had guided him and taught him.

Yet ... .what did it mean, to obey him?

As he spoke, Alain felt rooted to the ground, feeling torn between desire and duty.

He was still….even as pirates poured into the island, looking for treasure and as Marines and Knights fought back.

Some distance away, Alain felt the slave children carry out their plans to steal the Devil Fruits and escape.

Bartholomew Kuma. Ginny. Ivankov.

The three of them so bright and full of potential despite years of slavery and suffering. Enough to come up with a clever plan despite the circumstances. A plan that could actually work.

He could also feel Charlotte Linlin and her hungry desire for those same fruits.

Time seemed to suspend, and Alain could feel that same pressure increase, painfully so….until it didn’t.

It was as if something snapped, and for the first time in millenia he defied a direct order from his mentor.

When he was younger, Alain had bent and twisted the rules and laws, but never had he outright broken them like this.

Not when his mentor had expressly told him to do nothing.

There was vital work for his mentor to do at God Valley.

It was all too much though.

Doing nothing…..he couldn’t do nothing.

There was precious little time. Many people would die no matter what he did. Most probably. But perhaps there was something he could do.

Stealing the devil fruits was a good plan, but Linlin was moving too fast. If they were to succeed she would have to be slowed down. Alain examined his surroundings, thinking. He could throw Marines at her, but she was too strong for any of them to slow her down significantly. They would die in an instant, though he could care less about that. Their deaths meant less to him than falling leaves, serving the Celestial Dragons as they did.

No, he would have to be….direct.

Linlin was a force of nature…but even she had a hard time fighting the wind. Still, it was barely enough. She obtained the Uo Uo no Mi Model: Seiryu, but the buccaneer child obtained the Nikyu Nikyu no Mi. That would have to be enough.

Alain closed his eyes, the carnage and slaughter flooding his senses watching from the center of it all.

As Alain opened his eyes they met those of Edward Newgate briefly before Alain closed them again.

He had defied his mentor’s orders, and yet Alain could not bring himself to care about the consequences of his actions….instead he focused on those slave children.

“Good luck.”

He could do something, and he had.

Later, the events of God Valley would be classified and kept secret from everyone.

Yet something nobody would know, not even all of those at God Valley, was that the roughly 500 people who survived had survived through a single choice.

Not even Alain.

Chapter Text

So often in the past Alain had doubted his choices. Worried over their effect. It was part and parcel of being a Guide, who with a single choice could dictate the course of Fate. Once….he’d made decisions as easy as breathing, so certain of his every single choice.

That in turn had led to three quarters of a century of suffering, poverty, starvation, and despair.

He might have….rectified….his lapse in judgment, but nothing could erase all the death and suffering that had sprung from his mistake.

From Coriolanus Snow.

He had done everything right - according to his mentor. Handled as well as could be expected given his age. An excellent demonstration of his ability. Yet….

…why did he those words ring worse then hollow?

For as long as Alain could remember he had dreamed of guiding the worlds under his purview towards a better place then in which they found themselves in.

All the rules, laws, traditions, customs, and strictures didn’t matter. He was a Guide. A being as powerful as the Godheads. Everything was easy.

Or at least, it was supposed to be. Or maybe, that was simply a fantasy he wanted to believe.

For so long Alain had believed in that fantasy….until he knew just how bound he was by the rules, laws, customs, traditions, and strictures he had been taught about.

How they kept him from stopping the Hunger Games.

From burning the Capitol to the ground.

From saving the tributes and all those dying in the Districts.

That was the first time he had ever doubted his mentor’s teachings about what a Guide should be.

Since then….Alain couldn’t stop himself from questioning everything he had been taught.

What did his Guidance and those laws and rules matter when his charges suffered?

What did it matter when children were killed and used to sate sick appetites?

What did it matter when people starved to death on the streets despite growing mountains of food?

What did it mean if people were put death in a sick sport for the simple choice of a name?

When monsters disguised as greater beings ruled from the lap of luxury and laughed at the suffering they caused with a word? 

What did it all mean when Alain had the power to end it all with a snap of his fingers?

Was it not the duty of a Guide, a being whose purpose it was to make the world a better place, to put a stop to all of that?

God Valley showed him just how much it was all worth.

In aiding those three children Alain had acted outside his mandate….and he did not care one bit about it.

The freedom and feeling of rightness of doing so was….it was one of the best feelings he had ever felt in millenia.

And in doing so….Alain could no longer turn a blind eye. To force himself to deny them aid. To turn his back on them.

He couldn’t bear another Mags on his conscience. Another Haymitch. A Finnick or Johanna. A Beetee or Wiress. A Cashmere or Gloss. A Rue or Katniss or Peeta.

He couldn’t fail them again.

Which was why he was here, studying the mystical Zoan in his hands.

The Hito Hito no Mi Model: Nika.

Nika.

The Sun God, the Warrior of Liberation, who brought laughter and hope to the downtrodden and enslaved.

Even on among the realms of gods, spirits, demons, and Guides, Nika was a mystery. His origins were shrouded in so much secrecy that they all doubted if he was a god, or if he even existed at all. 

Not even Alain could find out much about Nika; so little was written, remembered, or spoken of about him. The answers likely lay in the Void Century. That period of time so hidden even immortals like him knew little to nothing about it.

Alain had asked his mentor about it once, only to get an utter non-answer.

Yet…that had never stopped him from looking at Nika with respect and admiration, dreaming of the day he could be like him.

Even despite the darker legends tied to him, those that spoke of him as a destroyer and a harbinger of death.

Truthfully, the only the thing about him that was without a doubt real was the Devil Fruit in hand, which held a fragment of his essence, and even that brought many questions.

Which was why the World Goverment had hunted ceaselessly for it for about 800 years.

It was a little known fact that a Zoan had a will of it’s own, reminscent of the dreams of the beings who inspired it.

Which was why for about 800 years the Hito Hito no Mi: Model Nika had escaped the hands of the World Government.

Yet even a Devil Fruit could grow tired.

Alain exmaimed the sphere-like purple fruit with swirls on it’s surface, able to feel the faint spirit of Nika that was supposedly enshrined within.

There was joy and freedom and laugher in it…and also something akin to the weariness a person would feel.

Soon enough, the World Government would hold it in it’s hands….and the world would suffer for it, bound in chains as far as he could see.

That was something Alain couldn’t allow.

Whether Nika brought freedom and joy or destruction and death, one thing was certain….Nika brought about change.

And change could only prove to the benefit of this world.

Perhaps….the next bearer of the Hito Hito no Mi Model: Nika could finally free this world that had known mostly fear and suffering under the rule of the World Government for centuries.

Alain was no fool. He knew that the change he hoped for would bring about pain and destruction. That many would die. Yet….all that upheaval could not compare to what the World Government and Celestial Dragons would inflict on this world if allowed unchecked as they had been.

True….the Devil Fruit would not gauruntee anything, but at least it could spark a fire that would accomplish a change in the world for the better.

Hopefully.

Alain smiled mirthlessly.

Even now, as Alain yearned to shape the world actively, he refrained from shaping the world to his whims.

That at least, Alain agreed with wholeheartedly.

Yet that didn’t mean he couldn’t play a role.

Holding the Devil Fruit with both hands and drawing on his power, Alain warded the fruit, making it so that no Celestial Dragon, or their servants, would be able to hold it without coming to misery until the Devil Fruit was free, and that any who ingested it would know only death.

It was taxing effort that left him exhausted and covered in sweat, yet Alain could only smile as finished his task.

Doing what he did….Alain knew well he had once more broken the rules in a manner that could not be excused or ignored if any other Guide were to find out.

Still….doing so, feeling the spirit of Nika within the fruit as he did…Alain was only certain of his choice.

Certain in the path he had chosen.

Perhaps….in doing so, he could be like Nika in the stories, like Alain had dreamed about when he was younger.

To be able to bring laughter and joy to people with his presence.

Chapter Text

Alain limped through the streets, careful to have his cloak covering his face and magic obfuscating his presence. Not that it really mattered. At this point, he really doubted he cared if lived or died anymore. As it was, every breath was an agony, his broken ribs pressing against his lungs with every breath. Underneath his cloak, his skin was a collection of mottled bruises and more broken bones. He hadn’t eaten or drunk water in days. Really, only mindless inertia that kept him moving. That and fear.

Most people would be dead by now, killed by the lack of sustenance and water. Their bodies would have given out under the abuse and torture his body had endured. Except…he didn’t die. Somehow he pressed on, his body too resilient to give in. A blessing, most would call it. To him, it was near a curse.

It was a mortal body, stronger than most, but strong and resilient as it was Alain could feel himself dying, and that fact had almost driven him insane when he’d first attained it. Guides were immortal, invulnerable to the ravages that plagued mortals. They could be killed, but only rarely, and they never felt death, not like a mortal did, whose bodies were filled with an innate frailty and decay. Still, that was probably the least of everything he had had to contend with since his exile.

Alain pressed on, glancing around despite the near overwhelming exhaustion and fear he felt, trying to figure out where it was he now found himself. Honestly, after running for centuries, worlds became a blur, and even though he’d been running for days since he escaped, it was only now that he felt safe enough to gale enough time to look and examine his surroundings. Any immortals hunting him had likely long since lost his trail long ago, but it was not them that kept him going long after he should have stopped.

Examining where he was, Alain almost let out a bitter, incredulous laugh as he noted the air filled with bubbles and the Yarukiman Mangroves. Really, to think he would find himself here after everything. The Fates and Destiny truly had a cruel sense of humor. Another layer of punishment to his exile, for him to find himself in such a disgusting place given everything. Though perhaps….it was to be expected. Maybe it was even deserved.

Before his fall, there had been few places he loathed so much as the den of cruelty, misery, and depravity, that was Sabaody.

He had been here once, and back then Alain had considered razing the mangrove forest to the ground. It would have been easy. All he would have needed to do was snap his fingers and the place would be reduced to ash. Now though, if he tried that, odds were he’d fail, and not because of his utter lack of power. All he had now was a damaged mortal body and limited magic. Not enough to deal with even the lowliest of marines.

The days where Alain could reshape reality, manipulate time, or control life and death were over. He had no real power anymore. He was not even sure what he was anymore.

Feeling tired, Alain nearly dragged himself to the wall of some building, away from sight. As he carefully sat down, Alain bit back a hiss of pain.

Once he could have done battle with greater gods, demons, angels, spirits, and Guides for years without faltering, and likely defeated them.

Now he was nothing but dying flesh who could scarcely care enough to even stay alive.

Maybe it would be better to die. It would certainly be simpler. His sentence might have officially been exile, but really, it had been more of a drawn out death sentence. As it stood, any immortal could kill him with impunity, and it had been so since the first day of his sentence. Once what he had done was known, there had never been a moment where he had not dodged someone who wanted to kill him, or felt near impossible dread and fear. Though perhaps it would have been better if they had killed him. It would have been better than what ultimately happened to him.

It seemed every immortal was determined to kill him in an excruciating fashion, and had eagerly pursued him like a hunter did prey. Really, it was luck he had survived this long; he had even been cornered many times towards the abyss. Those that didn’t join in the hunt, that might have helped him, had turned their backs on him. He was despised now, a lower life form. To kill him would be like killing vermin. No one would care.

Part of it was due to the fact that most other immortals who knew of them loathed Guides, envying their power which at times even rivalled or surpassed those of Godheads like Eru Illuvatar. Another was because he himself crossed a line Guides were never supposed to cross. Attempting to kill a Godhead, even one so twisted and corrupt as Chuck was a violation and threat that could not be ignored.

Alain chuckled despite the pain, holding back imaginary tears. A Guide was meant to guide and protect, yet in doing so he had brought this upon himself. He had seen Chuck twist and use and break those he was meant to protect while smiling in delight and Alain could not simply let it be. They were supposed to be better, to protect the mortals and others under their care. He had tried to reason and cajole and debate with both Chuck and the council, only to be dismissed, called an arrogant, nosy, child who should obey his betters and leave things be. He had tried to stop it, only for reason to fail and all he could do was watch as Chuck descended even more into depravity and abandon, all while smiling like a child. That was when Alain knew he had to be stopped.

So he planned and planned, devising the best way to bypass his protections and Archangels to kill him, even accounting for Chuck’s sister in his plans. He had come close, able to draw blood with a dagger. But it was not enough, and he failed, barely escaping with his life. After that….well, he was here now.

A wretched, worthless creature in a wretched damned place, unsure of anything and half wishing he was dead.

Worthless. Reviled. A failure. A disgrace.

What was even the point of living?

Maybe….they were all right, Alain mused as he took in Sabaody.

Maybe…..it was he who had been wrong, to try and break the laws to protect the mortals?

After all, what did it matter if he saved and protected a handful from his fellow immortals if they would only die and suffer in the end due to the indifference and cruelty of others?

Sabaody and Midnight themselves proved that, despite what he did, nothing he did mattered. After all, this was the creation of mortals, not gods, demons, spirits, or angels.

Maybe….it was better to do nothing and just hide away in the shadows and wait to die?

“I was a fool to try,” Alain thought absently, closing his eyes and unsure if he would wake up.

Chapter Text

Alain surveyed the streets of Saboady from the balcony of the brothel he had worked at for years, unable to summon much of a response. Idly, Alain wondered when it was that had happened. When did the looks of despair and air of fear stop bothering him? How was it that he could stroll through the streets and not bat an eye at the people in chains? When did it become a reflex to shrink away from the Celestial Dragons in fear?

Perhaps it was just a consequence of spending so many years hiding in the cesspit that was Sabaody.

Sabaody…time had long since become a blur to Alain, the memories of who he used to be more of a dream than truth. Perhaps it had been a decade or more since he arrived here. Perhaps less or more. He hadn’t planned on staying here so long, but he had been so tired…

Still, at least it seemed as if he no longer needed to run. After 800 years of being hunted, it seemed as if everyone had lost interest in hunting a disgraced Guide. Perhaps it was a blessing. Though more days than not it felt like a curse. Even now the constant feeling of death and decay of his new body ate at his sanity, pressing him further and further.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would pull a knife from his drawer and feel the sharp edge, wondering if it would be better to end it all, or spend another day in this forsaken cluster of mangrove trees.

When Alain arrived at Sabaody, he no longer really cared if he died, but neither did he quite want to die. Movement was exhausting. Breathing was exhausting. Even the act of thought seemed too tedious and complicated most of the time. Likely a lingering effect of his years in those cells. 

At least working at the brothel and sleeping with customers provided distraction from the senselessness that had become his life.

It was a bit amusing really, when he was younger he had mastered philosophy, debate, warfare, diplomacy, combat, and manipulation, yet it was only here in Sabaody that he finally learned of sex and pleasure.

Aside from that, the only other respite was his continued study of magic, though study was a generous term for what amounted to experimentation in the dark. True, all Guides could learn magic, but almost none ever did. After all, what could any mortal trick compare to being able to reshape the universe with a thought? Nonetheless, it was a useful endeavor. What had him kept hidden and drew away attention from unwanted eyes. Still, it was but a meager amount, the power he had. Should any immortal appear here he’d die as sure as the movements of the tides.

Alain chuckled and mused that perhaps that was another benefit of being in a place he so loathed.

Who would ever think that he of all people would hide in a slavers’ den like Saboady and work in a brothel?

He might be vermin in the eyes of all immortals, but he had been a Guide once, and surely no Guide could possibly stoop so low?

So low…..had one as high as him ever fallen so low?

Over the millennia many Guides had been brought low, but perhaps none quite so low as him. None so reviled and despised. So hated and hunted. Only his relatively young age had saved him from an order of execution and saw him instead exiled. A mercy despite his heinous crimes.

What a lie.

If the old him could see what had become of him, surely he would weep and kill himself from the shame of seeing what had become of him.

No power. No honor. No home. No one to call friend or ally.

Only dread and disgust and hatred and countless enemies remained.

Nothing more than a vermin.

Demeter. Poseidon. Eshu. Yemọja. Lugh. Isis. Manwë. Kyriel. Elisiel. Mila. Mithros.

Teachers, allies, and friends he had known for centuries.

All of them had turned their backs on him, had turned him away despite his pleas for help and mercy.

Soon enough his old life as a young Guide with great promise was gone, replaced instead with a life of fear and degradation.

…To be so willing and ready to bow to those whom he so hated, those monsters in human skins…... Surely death was better than this?

Yet for all those arguments and reasons he still could not bring himself to end it all. For some reason he woke and continued, forcing himself to bear witness to the depravity and violence of the mortals he had once been tasked with guiding towards something better.

In the darkest recesses of his mind, seeing it all play out, Alain could sometimes feel a bitter seed grow. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing but proof that all he had done had truly been meaningless. Perhaps he had done some good once long ago.... but what did any of it mean when mortals insisted on perpetuating the worst they could offer upon others? 

He had risked and lost it all…...and for what?

What was it he had fought for?

Alain honestly did not know.

He was a husk, Alain knew that. A husk with no reason or purpose. No courage or power. No value or dignity. Nothing more than an insignificant, pitiful, and wretched creature.

Still, there were moments…..fleeting moments…where he could feel something other than the nothingness that seemed to forever grip him like the shackles of a slave…..something that his damaged mind could recognize but not name. Something……something…..that almost made him feel alive. That made him feel like who he used to be once upon a time.

Yet those moments made it worse, for they filled him with grief and sorrow enough to weep.

Yet another cruel joke.

Since Alain had escaped those cells, he had not been able to shed so much as a single tear.

They had never liked tears.

Chapter Text

Edward Newgate, commonly known as Whitebeard, eyed the newest arrival on the Moby Dick, unsure as he felt defeat and sadness from the kid. Had circumstances been different, he’d have thrown the kid off the boat and sailed as far away from Sabaody as fast as possible. Maybe that would have been the wiser choice. Even so, he owed the kid a debt for saving a member of his family. Besides, he had a gut feeling about the kid.

Alain. That was his name. A sex worker from a brothel in Sabaody. Really, by all accounts, their paths shouldn’t have crossed, but Vista had gotten sick and needed a bit of rare medicine. A cause to worry greatly about, which had led to a frantic search across the archipelago that ended with them empty-handed.

Then Alain showed up where the Moby Dick was docked, medicine in hand, giving it to them with no words or demands. Relief had warred with wariness. Newgate and the rest of his crew had been to Sabaody enough times to know there was nothing given for free in this damned grove. Even so, he accepted the medicine. Vista’s life was worth it.

Thankfully, the price wasn’t anything too serious, at least not by the standards of pirates. Passage away from Sabaody when they left—reason enough to be suspicious, but not overly so.

True, Alain could have been a threat, but Newgate’s Haki told him enough to be certain that the kid just wanted a way out of the mangrove. There was an air of mystery about him, but that was mostly a given when dealing with anybody from Sabaody. Besides, the kid was fairly weak, so he could deal with him if things got worse.

Even so, Newgate was cautious. He made it clear to Alain that they would accept his request. Though with the condition that Alain leave with them promptly and not do anything that would bring down the Marines or the World Government on them. Which was fairly hypocritical given who he and his family were. And their bounties. Still, Newgate didn’t want to deal with the annoyances. Alain simply nodded and said nothing.

With the medicine soon in hand, Vista had recovered quickly, and the days passed quietly enough for him to feel better about everything. Discreet asking around had also revealed that Alain was not much of anyone in Sabaody. At least, no one dangerous. Popular enough for a sex worker, but not one that stood out. As far as Newgate and his family could make out, Alain seemed decent enough. At least given what they could get from Alain’s reputation. As far as anyone knew, the boy was in no trouble with the law or any of the other unsavory elements in Sabaody, which surprised him. Most of the time, anyone running away usually wanted to leave something behind.

Then all hell broke loose.

It was common knowledge that the Celestial Dragons visited Sabaody at whim and often, but Newgate could hardly have imagined the damn kid would get in the middle of a Celestial Dragon’s way. Much less to defend a slave. Everybody knew you’d likely die if you did that. Or worse.

Still, the kid placed himself in front of a Celestial Dragon and his entourage as they were ready to shoot a newly acquired rebellious slave, a young, tall, curvy woman with black skin and a look on her face that promised murder.

Now, Newgate didn’t care for slavery. In fact, he rather hated it. He’d grown up seeing enough people from Sphinx being dragged away in chains. Nor was he truly afraid of the Celestial Dragons or their lackeys. Still, even he would have hesitated at confronting them like this, though only because of the trouble he’d have to deal with. That would be a headache.

That was when things got strange and intriguing. Alain had thrown himself on the ground in a bow so utterly subservient it made him uncomfortable just looking at the boy, though the Celestial Dragons probably lapped it up. He then began begging, which was both a sensible and disgusting action. Begging probably never worked when a Celestial Dragon thought you ruined their day, but it might keep you from being outright killed. That wasn’t the strange or intriguing part, though. No, that honor was given to the pale white skeins of something stretching from Alain’s body and around the Celestial dragon. Clearly invisible since he was the only one who seemed to notice. It wasn’t Haki, though, as far as Newgate could tell.

Newgate then watched as Alain spewed some flattering bullshit about how the Celestial Dragon shouldn’t waste his valuable time with a lowly and ungrateful slave. Alain told the bastard that he should hand her over to him so he could discipline the girl and punish her for her transgression. A goddamn audacious action, but what was really the kicker was that the Celestial Dragon nodded and handed the slave to him, much to the astonishment of everyone looking. Alain then took the slave and retreated, groveling as he did so, his face pale and tired as if he had been doing hard labor all day. It clicked then, what Alain had done.

Using those white skeins, clearly not Haki of any kind, Alain had manipulated the Celestial Dragon’s mind.

At that point, Newgate would have been well within his rights to hightail out of Sabaody and leave Alain behind. However, three things kept him from doing so. One, Alain had saved Vista’s life. Two, whatever it was he had, throughout the entire encounter, Alain had exhibited no sign of malice. Instead, all Newgate had felt was bone-deep terror so strong he was surprised Alain didn’t run away at any point, and self-loathing so strong Newgate nearly choked as he lied through his teeth to save that slave. Three, both his gut and Haki told him Alain was a good person. Someone with bad intentions wouldn’t have done what he did.

The scar around Alain's neck might also explain why he did what he did.

In any case that was why he tracked down Alain and the slave and fulfilled his end of the bargain, though Alain was clearly surprised that Newgate did so, even pointing out that he had violated their bargain. Which was another point in Alain’s favor, at least as far as Newgate was concerned. Not that Alain protested much. However, he did make sure to have Alain explain exactly what it was he did in explicit detail, which Alain did, if reluctantly, and clearly surprised that Newgate could see it.

Persuasion, he called out. A power that guided one in the direction you wanted, though only if it was something the other person already wanted to, if only in a distant possibility, and only after much exposure to it. Back there with the Celestial Dragon, Alain had strained himself. Alain also added that it was a power that required time to use properly and that one could fight it off if their will was strong enough.

It was certainly one of the more fascinating things Newgate had come across, and he looked forward to having a more in-depth discussion about it. That being said, he made Alain swear to never use it on him or anyone in his family. Alain readily agreed.

Perhaps someone else would have thought him naive or reckless for letting such an unknown aboard the Moby Dick, but throughout their entire exchange, Alain had never lied once, and between that and his gut, he was willing to take the chance.

That being said…..

“The hell you say!!!”

Mabel was quite the presence to have aboard, even though he generally liked people with spirit; not that he could have just left the woman behind, no matter how abrasive she was.

Chapter Text

Rayleigh grinned slightly, feeling his blood rush in excitement as chaos unfolded around him. His captain was a battle-hungry idiot, and he’d never miss a chance to say otherwise. That being said, he couldn’t deny to himself that fighting with Newgate and his crew wasn’t exciting. Honestly, sometimes he thought they were the only ones who could actually fight these days. Well, except for Garp and some of the better marines. It was also interesting picking out the new faces among Newgate’s crew and seeing how the others had come along since the last time they had seen each other. Like that kid with legendary Zoan. Pretty good, if too cocky.

“It’ll be year-,” Rayleigh began to think, but abruptly stopped as he blocked a deadly blow from a blade he barely just noticed.

Impassive, calculating eyes met his gaze.

“White threads Alain,” Rayleigh recognized, equal parts intrigued, pleased, and annoyed.

New additions happened all the time on pirate crews, but Alain was one of Newgate's more noteworthy additions. Pirates were mixed a lot by any definition, but Alain hardly seemed to be the kind Newgate would invite. Withdrawn, immaculately dressed, exceedingly cautious, cold, seemingly apathetic, and entirely too uptight; ice might be warmer than the kid. Probably a better fit for the Marines. Or Cipher Pol. He certainly had that look. Roger hadn’t cared much for him; a pretentious ass with no sense of humor, had been his words, more or less. For his part, Alain cared little for Roger. Personally, Rayleigh was more interested in the kid and the mystery around him.

As far as anybody not associated with the Whitebeards knew, Alain had just appeared. A stray from Saboady. That was about it. Nobody else knew much, and the Whitebeards seemed careful not to say anything. 

Well, except for the fact that Alain could fight as well as any of them and had a bounty of 400,000 million berries on his head.

Which might need to be revised.

“He’s gotten stronger,” Rayleigh noted, feeling the strength behind Alain’s blow almost push him back, the boy's Haki filled with a cold determination and precision that nearly made him shiver. However, for a moment, Alain’s Haki wavered and spasmed, as if unsure and filled with fear, almost twisting against the kid, before returning to normal. It was enough for Rayleigh to easily push the kid back. Throughout it all, Alain’s expression never changed, and the calculating look intensified.

“He fights to end the battle as soon as possible,” Rayleigh mused, “whether by killing or incapacitating the opponent, then withdraws and reassesses if things seem dicey. Relentless and without mercy, but also….afraid and desperate. He’s afraid of me….I think. But even so, he jumped at me like a vicious sea king as soon as I pushed the other kid away.”

That said a lot. Not to brag, but there were a few pirates who’d dare attack him head-on like that. Certainly none who seemed like Alain. Particularly since the kid was weaker than him. Not weak by any means, but weaker.

“Yet he’s not going to back down,” Rayleigh realized as Alain met his gaze evenly.

“Marco, find someone else to fight next time,” Alain called out sharply, eyes not leaving him for a second.

Rayleigh quirked an eyebrow and then expanded his field of vision, noting the kid from earlier behind Alain.

The kid blushed and nodded.

“Right!”

Suddenly, it clicked, and Rayleigh almost laughed.

Alain was nothing like Newgate, Rogers, or him. At least on the surface. Yet it was clear why Newgate had brought Alain into his family.

Frigid and unpleasant Alain might be, but he clearly cared and loved deeply.

“Well, I guess this won’t be as easy as I thought,” Rayleigh grinned. Alain was weaker than him to be sure, but Rayleigh knew he’d pay dearly if he didn’t take this fight seriously. The kid would be utterly ruthless, even if this wouldn’t be a fight to the death.

However, a sudden chill fell over him, and the grin vanished from Rayleigh's face as he felt a towering Haki approach the two of them, as wild and furious as Alain’s was cold.

Platinum Simmons. The other famous and infamous new addition to Newgate's crew. Bounty of 550,000 million berries. A woman who would certainly match Charlotte Linlin one day. Fun, boisterous, and fiery, Roger loved her.

But God help you if you were on the receiving end of her fury, or messed with anybody she cared about; Simmons was stronger than Alain and far more brutal.

“What do you think you’re doing!!!”

Rayleigh felt dread pool in his stomach as he turned to face the muscular six-foot-something woman with fury in her eyes, cursing his captain for dragging them into this fight.

However, this ended, Silvers Rayleigh knew he would be paying dearly for this for days.