Chapter Text
“I want to destroy them all!”
Law's never been one for religion. Flavance had temples, of course, but most people had abandoned the worship of the gods centuries ago. His parents were no different, more so, even, as they were doctors, people of science. They had no need for myths and legends to explain the world around them.
Still, here Law was, standing before the altar of The Glory, desperate .
He was dying, and he knew it. He knew the symptoms of Amber Lead better than anyone else, he’d witnessed them in his family, his city.
According to his estimations, he had two years at best, and Law wanted to make good use of that time. He wanted to punish those responsible, wanted to see them burn like Flavance did.
(He wanted to live, but refused to give himself false hopes. He didn't believe in the Gods, but if there was even a small chance…)
But there was only so much a ten-year-old could do, even one as determined as Law was. No doctor would treat him, and bringing attention to him surviving the massacre was ill-advised.
Any desperate pleas to deities of health and life were left, unsurprisingly, unanswered.
He came to the temple of The Deaths in desperation, and now that he had shouted his pleas into the empty halls, he felt foolish. No one was listening, no one was coming, no one ever did, there was no one-
“Ambitious.”
Law froze in place. He hadn't heard anyone walk in.
The voice was deep and rumbling, and it made the hairs at the back of his neck stand. Something about it made Law think of impending doom, of fire and gunshots and blood.
(It took all he had not to remember his home going up in flames.)
Law steeled himself instead and turned slowly towards the voice, though it did little to reveal his visitor.
The man behind him was tall , taller than anyone he'd ever seen. He stood right outside the reach of the light filtering in through the stained glass windows. Hidden under deep shadows, backlit by the light filtering in from the temple doors that Law had left ajar.
He seemed to be wearing a heavy fur coat of sorts, and what looked like a headpiece or a crown.
Behind the man, was he a king? A priest, perhaps? , Law saw another figure. It wore a similar coat, though it seemed darker in color. A hood cast shadows on his face, obscuring it even further.
Law’s eyes shift back to the first figure, straightening his posture as he tried his best to hide his fear.
“What’s it to you?” he spat back before he could think.
The sharp, bleached-bone-white grin that spread on the man’s lips was eerily visible, even through the shadows, and Law took an instinctive step back.
It sent him into a spiral of conflicting thoughts and feelings, leaving him confused and uncertain.
The men's presence felt like standing at the edge of a bottomless abyss from which there was no escape, like no matter what Law did, nothing could save him should he, they , choose to push him.
Yet, he didn't feel like he was in danger.
Not because the men weren't dangerous, but because they gracefully, mercifully , chose not to be so.
The head tilted slightly, as if curious, “You speak of such grand actions… Do you have what it takes to bring them into being?”
Law felt anger and conviction bubble up inside of him, eager to prove there was no reason to doubt him.
“Of course I do! I want to make them pay! All of them, for everything they did!” he was breathing heavily now, fists clenched tightly, body shaking, all in an attempt to stop the flood of tears that had been threatening to spill out for so long.
“Hmmm… Would that be enough? To give you the power it takes…”
“Like y ou could ever know what it’s like!”
He knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. Law immediately felt like he had stepped right into a spider’s web, tangling himself willingly and offering his life to this unknown predator.
“Could I not?” the voice dripped with sweet venom, and despite the vastness of the great hall they were standing in, the room suddenly felt small, tight. Like he was being buried alive under this looming presence. “Such brave and sure words from someone who knows nothing … Tell me, child. What makes you so-”
The man stopped abruptly, then turned calmly to the figure behind him, as if the other had spoken, though Law heard no sound.
A beat and then “I am not toying with him, Dear Heart, simply wanting to see if he is a man of his word.”
Another beat of silence from both figures, and a sigh from the man “A child, I know. Still,” he turned back to Law with that unsettling grin again “He comes to me, to us , into our temple, begging for my, our , benefaction… the least he could do is show respect.”
If it weren't for the constant pain in his lead-riddled lungs, Law might have thought it was a dream.
But the ache was grounding him, pulling his focus onto the figures in front of him.
Something about the sure way the man, God? , spoke left no room for doubt. Like they weren't having a conversation, but rather as if he had imparted upon Law an absolute, undeniable truth.
Somewhere, deep within the core of his very being, Law was suddenly and completely aware that Death were standing before him.
Still, the voice of reason, of skepticism, whispered, refusing to accept a truth that felt so unreal.
Perhaps it was Law’s face that betrayed his feelings of denial, perhaps it was some divine power that allowed the figure to see into his very soul. Regardless, the God? , tilted his head, and Law could feel the amusement rolling off of him. “You ask for power from something you do not believe in?”
If Law was being completely honest with himself, for the most part, he hadn't come here in hopes that something would answer his pleas. He'd come here to receive the final proof that there was no hope. One final destination to tick off his list of proofs that no one was going to help, and that he was going to die.
No doctors, no healers, no priests.
No gods.
Yet here they stood…
He probably should have knelt, groveled before the embodiment of the one universal truth, and begged for forgiveness.
Law had always been told he was a smart kid.
But he'd also been told countless times that his tongue was too sharp for his own good.
So instead, he frowned up at the tall, tall creature before him. “The fact of your existence isn’t exactly public knowledge .”
Law swore he could see the shoulders of the quiet one slightly shake, the silhouette barely visible. Despite the lack of sound, he was almost certain he could feel the laughter.
Finally, the first figure stepped out of the shadows and into the pool of color-stained light. A crown on his head, wrapped in gold and jewels. A mask of bone, made to resemble a skull, covered the upper part of his face. He was clad not in fur but feathers, pink in color.
Law had heard the stories of The Glory, of a white coat painted by blood…
He swore he could smell-
The other figure stepped closer as well. Golden hair peaking from under a veil, eyes blood-red. Under the right eye was a marking, a deep blue contrasting with the pallor of the skin, almost making it look as if he was crying. His lips were painted in a deep red. The color continued beyond them, marked with lines to resemble teeth, before curving up into cheekbones, creating the image of a skeletal jaw. He too wore a coat of feathers, though his were black.
Being a country of merchants and artisans, the temples of Flavance were mostly dedicated to deities of commerce or the arts.
Law visited a temple for the Deaths before, when he was young, and his grandmother had died.
He remembered two tall statues of white Amber Lead. Similar but different, kind but cruel. They watched over the mourning crowd, final and resolute, unmoving and cold.
The statues looming in this hall bore the same faces as the ones from his childhood. They were the same figures depicted on the stained glass windows behind Law.
The same as the two men in front of him.
God of the Glorious but Cruel Death and God of the Quiet but Lonely Death, Law recalled. The Glory and The Lonely, as most people called them.
He knew little of their legends, just the bare bones of the tale of how Death came to be…
A tale of revenge for the hubris of creatures calling themselves gods, living in a paradise they called Mary Geoise.
Punishment for the unjust cruelty inflicted upon innocents, simply because those who call themselves Divine wished it so.
(So maybe, just maybe, someone could finally understand…)
The Glory offered a hand to his brother, who in turn took it and stepped closer so they both stood side by side.
“Well then, Trafalgar D. Water Law.”
He was pretty sure he had never told them his name.
He was certain that he had never told them his full name.
But he supposed it was a trifle matter for the Gods of Death.
“ Do you have what it takes to serve us?”
Law frowned immediately, once again, tongue acting with a mind of its own, “I don’t want to serve him .”
He couldn't see under the mask, but Law was nearly certain that The Glory raised an amused brow at him.
“We are one and the same. There is no serving one without the other… Not for you at least.”
Not wanting to belong to The Lonely was another part of the reason why Law came to this place.
He could have died in Flavance, could have gone to The Glory.
That way, even if the people in power erase them from the world, existence itself would remember. If not for the grandiosity of the tragedy, then surely for the cruelty of it.
But Law survived, and the sick went to The Lonely. The forgotten and unremarkable, quietly going into nothingness. No resistance, no fight…
It felt like surrender.
Law wasn't a believer, not before the deities appeared before him. He didn't know how any of it worked. But if there was a slight chance…
Law was alone in life… He didn't want to stay alone in death as well.
(There was probably something in the temple air that caused the burning behind his eyes.)
Law was strong. He wasn't going to cry. Couldn't cry. He had to prove his worth.
The Glory let out a long sigh, then turned to The Lonely “Alas, Mi Alma , it seems we have misjudged him.”
The other God simply looked at his brother silently. He looked unamused, cold even. As if he couldn’t care less for Law’s plight.
“But if he cannot handle serving us both, he is of no worth to us…”
The god turned around dramatically, taking the other’s hand in his as he led him back towards the shadows.
(If there was even a small chance…)
“I’ll do it! Let me prove to you that I can!”
The hall was silent for a moment. The two Gods stood still at the edge of the pool of light.
Then, in unison, slowly, they turned back to Law. The Glory wearing his razor-sharp grin, The Lonely's expression impassive.
Behind them, in the darkness, Law swore he could see more figures.
“Are you certain you can, child? Dedicate your life to us both?” The Glory asked, amused once more.
He didn't have much to give, but he'd be damned if he didn't take this opportunity.
“I said I would, didn't I?”
The Cruel and Glorious laughed, and it sounded like a battlefield: cold and merciless. “Good. Let us go then… There is much for you to learn.”
(If there was even a small chance, Law would make sure to take it.)