Okay, I'm probably just cracked out of my mind, but would you mind if I request an AceHan (Ace x Hancock) fanfic? I know that this ship is cracky as all hell, but I can't help but think how would Hancock react to Ace had she actually met him first instead of Luffy. Don't get me wrong, I love LuHan, but I feel like Hancock would've warmed up to Ace a little bit more because of his slightly more mature personality and appearance. I'm curious as to how this could play out in fic.
Hey, Anon! Not to worry, "cracky as hell" is always welcomed on this blog! Sorry for the wait; I was so busy with school and other obligations that things got away from me, but here is your story, at long last! I hope you enjoy it :)
A Gift from the Sea
Word Count: 2,600
Fluff, Romance, Drama, Canon Divergence, Ace Lives AU
Summary: While being transported to Impel Down, a storm sinks the Navy's ship and Ace ends up on Amazon Lily. Charmed by his personality and his story, Boa Hancock decides to go against her people's creeds and harbor him while his wounds heal.
Hancock’s eyes were lidded as she gazed out of her palace bedroom window, watching as the sprawling forest canopy writhed in the throes of the mighty thunderstorm. Sheets of rain poured from the cloud-choked sky above to pelt the thick, broad green leaves, filling the moist air with rhythmic drumming. There really was nothing like the storms of Amazon Lily, the downpours that nurtured the lush rainforests of her paradise.
Lightning snaked through the thick gray clouds, serenaded by gently rumbling thunder. The world was shrouded in gloom; the dying rays of the setting sun were continuously failing to penetrate the thick layer of thunderclouds, so the light was fading fast from the world save for the intermittent flashes of white electricity. Though Hancock would gladly admire the thunderstorm all night, it took much to be a fearsome pirate and manage an island of warrior women, so it was imperative she get some rest. The skirt of her silk gown brushed against the smooth stone of her bedroom floor as she strolled to her bed.
Just as she was pulling back the thin, sheer fabric that enclosed her spacious bed, frantic knocking echoed through her bower.
“Enter,” she announced, dropping the sheet to walk around the end of her bed. A frown creased her brow and drooped her lips; if someone was disturbing her this late in the evening, it must be an important matter indeed.
Marguerite threw open the door to barge in, her blonde hair plastered to her head as water dripped from her body and clothes.
“My Lady!” she gasped. Even with her skin pale from the cold, Marguerite’s cheeks were flushed with exertion. Between sucking in breaths, she puffed, “My Lady, a man … A man has washed up on the island…”
“A man?” Hancock barked, her brows furrowing further. The pink silk of her skirts fluttered around her legs as she stormed toward her, pushing her aside to barrel down the hall. Marguerite followed, puddling water on the wine-red carpet lining the stone floor.
“He’s critically injured, My Lady,” Marguerite huffed as she quickly followed, struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s much longer strides. “A great wave threw him up on the cliffs, and he managed to stumble his way through the jungle to the front of the palace!”
The new information continued to scrunch Hancock’s face. He must be a formidable man indeed to have braved the jungle grievously wounded and half-drowned.
“What do you think of him, Marguerite?”
“He seems to have a prisoner of sorts, My Lady. He is wearing seastone handcuffs. He only managed to survive the sea because he managed to land in a lifeboat,” her subordinate explained. Now they were descending the stairs leading to the main floor of the palace. Hancock hiked up her skirt around her knees as her bare feet swiftly padded down the steps, the plush carpet absorbing the strikes of her soles. “He collapsed as soon as he made it to the gate, but our best guess is that he was being transported as a prisoner of the Marines, and the ship succumbed to the storm.”
“He might count himself lucky for being washed ashore, but he will not think so when he discovers where he is,” Hancock chortled as she arrived at the base of the stairs. She flung open the side door leading into the throne room. It struck the wall, sending a thunderous clang! resounding through the capacious area. While Marguerite had rushed to alert her mistress, the palace guard had dragged the man in to face the Warlord; word traveled quickly, however, so the clan of women had crowded into the room to observe.
Hancock held her head high as she sauntered up to the man where he knelt against the floor. He was hunched down against the cold tile floor with his arms still chained behind his back, shivering as the cold water sapped the heat from his skin. His tattered clothes hung from his muscular frame, and despite the soaking that it had endured, Hancock could still see the smudges of blood discoloring the fabric. Bruises, scrapes, and deep gashes littered his body, some still oozing blood and sending rivers of pink streaming through the clear water. As she halted in front of him, the stranger coughed weakly and slowly lifted his head to peer up at her through sodden brown bangs.
As she noted the dull fire gleaming in his dark eyes, like the coals smoldering in the nearby fireplace, Hancock had to smile.
“Have you decided yet if you are lucky or not?”
The man sniffed haughtily. The seastone chains jingled as he sat fully up on his knees, the sodden orange hat flopping down against his back as he smirked confidently at the tall woman.
“Considering this isn’t Impel Down, I would consider myself lucky,” he said.
Hancock found her lips curling up into a smirk. It was refreshing to see a man with some gall, rather than a lovesick buffoon that simpered at her feet. Her handmaidens fluttered around the stranger nervously, inspecting him with both fear and curiosity.
“My Lady, he bears the mark of Whitebeard upon his back.”
Hancock walked around the kneeling man, and his eyes followed her, rogue and amused. Sure enough, inked on his back was the symbol of the notorious pirate. He must be a high-ranking officer in Whitebeard’s fleet, Hancock reasoned, that was captured and in the middle of being transported to Impel Down. A storm capsized their ship, and he ended up here by some stroke of luck… Or misfortune, she thought with a small sneer. Hancock had no quarrel with Whitebeard; in fact, she quite respected him as a powerful pirate who had no fear of the Navy. However, Hancock did not want to endanger her precious ladies with a Buster Call over this sodden prisoner. Debating, she finished walking her circle around him to stand before him once again, her expression cold and callous.
“What is your name, stranger?”
“It is common courtesy to give one’s own name before asking that of another,” the man grinned.
Several of her ladies gasped in affront, abhorred by his blatant disrespect. The man didn’t flinch when one jammed the point of her spear into his neck, the stone nicking the thin flesh to send blood dribbling down to his pectorals.
“You rogue! Do you know who you’re speaking to?!”
“Obviously not, considering I just asked her name.”
Hancock’s warrior snarled and pushed the spearpoint further into his flesh until trills of laughter filled the throne room. She glanced over in confusion to see Hancock with a hand over her chest, chortling loudly with her head tipped back.
“Oh? You find that funny, do you?” the man smiled.
“You do indeed amuse me,” Hancock said once her giggles quieted, looking down at him again. “Very well, stranger. I am Boa Hancock, one of the seven Warlords of the Sea and the sovereign of Amazon Lily, the island of woman warriors. Are you aware that your mere presence here is treasonous?”
“Look, lady, I can’t quite help what’s between my legs,” he shrugged.
Her warriors growled again in anger, but looking at their empress, they discovered that she was quite amused with his sass. Hancock placed her hands on her hips to sashay over to him, bending down to place a finger under his chin to lift his face.
“And what might your name be, then? I have given you mine,” she cooed, blowing him a kiss. He was unfazed by her flirtatiousness, at least mostly; she could see the excitement alight his eyes, but it was more excitement of the game than the pretty woman’s endowments dangling mere inches from his face.
I do quite like him, she thought, biting on her bottom lip. He might make quite the amusing toy!
“Portgas D. Ace.”
Hancock’s eyebrows shot up her head in shock.
“You’re one they call ‘Fire Fist’?”
“The one and only,” he shrugged, leaning back on his legs as he continued to kneel with the seastone cuffs pinning his arms behind his back.
Hancock slowly straightened up, eyebrows furrowed and mind whirling. It certainly made everything make sense, but this was a dangerous situation. If the Navy learned that a high-profile prisoner was taking shelter on Amazon Lily, they would bring thunder and fire down upon her island within a blink of an eye. She could turn him over, but… As she looked at him, soaked to the bone and beat to hell and back, Hancock could not find it within herself to do it. She had only ever allied with the military to keep her island and its inhabitants safe; that didn’t mean that she had to be their dog.
“Very well. Ladies, get those cuffs off of him. This man is now our guest. I expect him to receive fresh clothes, a furnished room, and proper medical treatment,” she ordered. Ace looked at her in shock, to which she replied with a small smile.
“My lady, are you sure?” one of her handmaidens asked uncertainly.
“Yes,” she nodded, mostly to reinforce her own decision before doubt could creep into her mind. I do not fear them, she told herself firmly. If they wish to claim him, they will have to do it by force. “He will be under my protection until he is fully healed, and we will provide him a ship to return to his captain. I have no interest in the petty affairs of the Navy. No one but us know he has washed up here, and if word gets out about it, there will be some new heads on the palace pikes, do you understand?”
“Y-yes, my lady!” the guards stammered before racing to do as their captain had ordered.
Hancock walked to the window while they led Ace away to the castle’s armory, where there were tools to remove the cuffs. Outside, the storm was at its peak, tossing the trees in fierce gales and ripping leaves and branches apart. They swirled around in the torrents of rain, slapping against the sturdy walls of her fortress.
The storm brought him here for a reason, she thought, her eyes growing lidded. When the sea bears you a gift, you do not question why it was sent.
She remained at the window, just watching the storm rage across the island, until one of the guards returned to report that Ace was now placed in a room, his wounds dressed and resting. Hancock dismissed her before walking to the room. She lingered in the doorway, peering through the small crack to observe him. He sat up against the pillows in the bed, his broad chest swathed in thick bandages—some of them already had little red stains of oozing blood on them. His head was turned toward the window, eyes contemplative as he watched the rain rage against the glass. Slowly, Hancock pushed the door open; he looked at her when it announced her arrival with a low groan.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked as she strode across the room, hands clasped primly in front of her gown.
Ace shifted up higher in the pillows, twinging when the action apparently sent pain coursing through his body.
“Ah… As comfortable as I can be after being beaten like a dog, I suppose,” he smiled wanly. Hancock returned the smile with a soft one of her own, sitting on the edge of his bed. He regarded her with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “Why did you choose to help me? As a Warlord, I expected you to throw me in the dungeons and call up the nearest admiral.”
“Just because I am a Warlord does not mean I am heartless,” she smirked. “Besides, I only pander to those old fools because it protects my girls. I give them a share of my profits and attend when I am called, and my ladies do not have to live in fear.”
Ace looked back to the window, his expression pensive.
“A smart move,” he acknowledged, “but is that really freedom, or enslavement by another name?” Hancock lowered her head at this, digging her fingers into the silk of her dress. Of course she had thought the same many times, but she would swallow a bit of her pride if that meant that Amazon Lily could be spared the wroth of the World Government. Ace sensed that she was discomfited, so he smiled wanly. “Sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
“Well, you are a man.”
Ace snorted at this, and though Hancock hadn’t really been joking, she still found herself smiling. He shifted in the bed, groaning as pain flickered across his sensitized nerves, before settling again.
“In any case, thank you for taking me in.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I may change my mind,” she warned, but the smirk that he gave her banished any intentions of that. It had her heart fluttering, that smirk, and a heat rising to her cheeks. “A-anyway, how did you end up here?”
“I was being transported to Impel Down by the Navy,” he explained. He looked down at the comforter and traced the stitching with his fingers. “A storm hit, and the ship went down. Somehow I was able to cling to a piece of driftwood, and a wave threw me up on this island. I was just wandering around the woods until I found your lovely establishment here.”
“I find it hard to believe that one of Whitebeard’s top lieutenants was captured by the Navy.”
“Not by the Navy,” he corrected, looking up at her. His eyes had been calm, but they smoldered again with the bright fire of anger. “A pirate named Blackbeard. He used to be a member of our crew, but he betrayed us by murdering one of my friends for a Devil Fruit. I’ve been tasked with hunting him down…”
“But he proved to be more challenging a foe to face than you thought,” Hancock guessed.
Ace squirmed in embarrassment, a scowl forming on his lips. He looked to the window, watching the rain splatter against the marbled glass.
“Yeah,” he admitted in a small voice. “Yeah, he was. He turned me over for the bounty. I imagine the Navy had something planned to try and lure Whitebeard in.”
It made sense. Whitebeard was known to care deeply for every boy under his charge; she didn’t doubt that he would storm Impel Down itself to rescue Ace. How terrible, she thought as she gazed at his listless form staring longingly out the window. Not only has he been through the wringer, but he has also failed in his mission.
It had long been in Amazon Lily’s creed to reject men, but Hancock simply could not find it within herself to do so. She reached out to take his hand, gently stroking the scraped surface with her thumb. Ace looked down at her hand, then up at her face to find her smiling kindly.
“The Navy cannot reach you here. Your injuries are severe; it will take some time for them to heal. I will send word to Whitebeard. By the time he arrives here, you should be well on the mend,” she told him.
“Thank you,” he said again, softly. The fire in his eyes simmered down into something different, something that made her heart stutter again in her chest. A gift from the sea, she thought again, smiling demurely. Outside, the rain continued to fall persistently, but the worst of the storm had passed.
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