The Return of Persephone (1891) by Alfred Kingsley Lawrence (British, 1893 – 1975), oil on canvas laid to board, 50 x 60 in. (128 x 152cm.), Private Collection
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
The day you’d longed for was finally here.
You tried very hard to dull the excited glint in your eyes. Even during your goodbyes on Zou, you bit back smiles and quenched more than a few mindless hums. You’d miss everyone, of course…but your departure meant one thing. Well, two.
Returning to the Polar Tang, and (drumroll, please:) alone time with Law.
You had very high hopes for the second one. You practically skipped through the Polar Tang’s familiar stormy gray halls laced with lightning yellow trim. The familiar hum of the submarine tingled across your skin (that might’ve been the AC, but whatever).
Then Law opened the door to his office.
An avalanche of papers spewed out, pouring into the hall.
You and Law stood trapped in the doorway, ankle-deep in Paper Cuts Central. Your stomach took a plunge: it wasn't exactly the homecoming you’d been dreaming of.
Law’s face defaulted to its natural deadpan expression, as if he’d expected this. “Y/N-ya, put on some gloves.”
“I’m not that danger-prone — ouch! Kidding, I’m kidding…”
Law cleared a path to his desk as you plucked random papers from the heaps. Some of them were old Warlord missives. That was good: with Law’s title revoked, you could toss them into the shredder. A tsunami-sized pile of diagnoses would have to be tended to, though…
Law lent you a pair of fancy leather gloves as you sorted through the stacks. You thought about turning them down, but if it made him feel better, fine. Law had more to worry about than your old opponent: paper cuts.
When you could finally see the floor, Law abandoned his stack.
“That's enough. I wanted to show you something,” said Law.
You stopped in your tracks. The mess of documents you held bit into your forearms. You barely noticed the prick of the fang-like corners.
Trafalgar D. Law didn't believe in his breaks. It was almost a routine to drag him away from his desk at two a.m. or drug him with nighttime cold medicine.
Whatever Law had in mind, it must’ve been massive.
“Okay,” you said.
Law relieved you of your pile of papers, dumping it on his desk with the others. You watched, mystified, as he turned his back on the trembling heaps and moved to the corner of his office.
You followed him to a little nook between bookshelves. Shadows concealed the area like cobwebs. Your eyes widened.
“What's this?” You gestured at the metal door before you.
You’d never given it much thought before. You assumed it was a closet where Law stored office supplies or medical knick-knacks (Law insisted those weren't “knick-knacks,” but that was easier to pronounce than what was printed on the labels).
Law propped the door open. He flicked on the lights.
“My room,” he said.
You had to physically make an effort to keep your jaw off the floor.
You’d visited the Polar Tang for two whole years, and you had never seen Law’s bedroom. You’d come to the conclusion that he probably crashed on the couch behind his desk.
No one had ever mentioned Law’s room in passing, either…
You steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders. This was a big gesture on Law’s part. You weren't going to squander it.
You squeezed past him and stepped inside.
Law’s scent hit you as soon as you entered. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with spearmint. The smell had a weird way of silencing your brain and making your heart race at the same time.
Warm lamplight melted the cool blue tint from a panel of glass lining the walls, looking out at the ocean’s depths. The spectacular view was the only comparison Law’s bedroom had with his office.
You waded deeper into the room. Gentle grays mixed with a blue that reminded you of deoxygenized blood running through veins. It seemed like the perfect place to snuggle in, if you were a polar bear looking to hibernate for a couple of months (you wondered if Law had designed it that way on purpose).
You parked your shoes by the entrance, next to another pair of Law’s. Little tufts of the black carpet curled between your toes.
You looked back at Law as if for approval to go deeper in. You were itching to explore, but it was still Law’s space.
The door fell shut at Law’s back. He mirrored you, slipping off his shoes and stuffing his hands into his jean pockets.
When Law straightened, he bowed his head in your direction — you took it as a sign to keep going.
You approached the nearest wall first. Glass cases glittered across it. You bit back a smile: you had found Law’s famous (yet supposedly secret) coin collection.
You pointed to one of the glistening coppers. “I like that one.”
Law leaned in, looking over your shoulder. “That’s one of my favorites. It's from Sabody. Found it the day I met Straw Hat-ya.”
“A memorable day.” You smiled back at him.
“Seared into my memory, that's for sure.”
You laughed and continued your browsing.
The bookshelves were next. There weren't as many medical encyclopedias as you expected.
You crouched down to skim the lower shelves. Most of them were Sora: Warrior of the Sea comic books (and the occasional limited-edition graphic novel). The ones with elaborate covers that shone in the lamplight were on display.
You pointed to one of them. “That’s really cool.”
Law crouched down next to you. “Only a few hundred of those were made. They were released at a con a few years ago.”
“I didn't know you liked those,” you said.
“Some,” Law lamented. “I prefer when they’re not busy. The crew likes to go.”
Both of you rose to your feet. You were nearing Law’s bed, but that wasn't your end goal per se. You were too busy relishing in all the new secrets you’d just unlocked.
You paused in front of Law’s nightstand. It mirrored yours on Maiden Island, decorated with photos in frames or taped to the wall.
The Heart Pirates dominated most of the photos. Candid snapshots of crew gatherings, birthday parties, and bar hangs were captured in each one. There was also the classic foursome: Law with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. They looked a lot younger in those.
Your gaze drifted down to the framed pictures on the nightstand. One was a little too familiar.
“Is that…me?” you said.
The photo was definitely not recent. You could tell from your hairstyle and the clothes you wore. If you had to estimate, it looked like it was from your time under Pops — before you’d even met Law —
Law snatched the photo before you could inspect it further.
“Sorry,” mumbled Law. “Marco-ya gave it to me years ago.”
“Oh.” Your brows furrowed. You sensed a story, but you decided to keep quiet. You didn't want to push Law too much.
Law’s steel gaze fixated on the floor. The flaming tips of his ears were even more noticeable in the cool-toned room.
“I have pictures of you, too, you know,” you added. “They’re your wanted posters, though. We should fix that.”
You and Law shared a smile. You returned to your self-guided tour.
When you reached the next photo, your heart twisted like a wrung-out towel.
It was an old newspaper clipping. The article itself had been snipped away, leaving only the photo: a couple and two kids smiling at the camera, posing in an old hospital waiting room. Their eyes were bright and sparkling despite the lack of color.
You felt yourself lean forward for a closer look. Law stiffened next to you.
The man looked like an older (and less buff) version of Law. A light stubble clung to the bottom half of his face, and even though his hair was shorter, it had the same choppy, haphazardness to it.
The woman beside him reminded you of the color brown: everything about her seemed to radiate warmth, even in black and white. The only exception was her eyes — like Law’s, there was a heavy intelligence to her gaze. Something that could cut.
“They’re beautiful,” you murmured. If there was ever a photo that was picture-perfect, it was this one. “You look so much like your dad. And you have your mom’s eyes.”
Law remained silent.
You hesitated before the photo, wondering if you should linger. You didn't want to make Law uncomfortable, but this was a golden opportunity you never knew you’d have: a chance to see part of Law’s childhood up close. A chance to see his family.
You couldn't pass it up.
Your eyes lingered on the little girl. Everyone on the Polar Tang knew her birthday.
“I love Lami’s smile,” you murmured. “She looks like someone who would be fun to talk to.”
Law’s hands were shoved back into his pockets. When he looked at his sister’s full-toothed grin, his steel gaze softened to mist.
“...She was,” he said.
Your eyes drifted to the boy next to Lami, holding her hand. You muffled a gasp.
“And that's you right there, beside her?” you said.
Law nodded.
You grinned. The fangirl in you took over.
“You look so cute! You still had your hat back then, too —! And the look on your face, that deadpan expression —!”
Law reached over you and flipped the photo down.
You looked back at Law, then bit down on your lip. Hard. It took every bit of self control you had not to burst out laughing.
You thought you’d seen Law blush the brightest anyone ever has the night of your first kiss when he nearly bit your tongue off. Bubbling magma was cooler than the red tones that currently warmed his face.
“Should’ve scrubbed the place before you came in,” Law muttered to himself.
“Aww, don't say that! I like it here,” you pouted.
Law tugged down the rim of his hat. His eyes were hidden from view. “You don't have to lie.”
“I’m not.” You plopped down on Law’s bed, arms crossed. “There’s a lot to like.”
A doubtful hmph escaped Law. He returned your picture to the nightstand and righted the one of his family (facing them away from you) before taking a seat next to you.
The air crackled with Law’s new closeness. You swallowed. Static shocks and racing hearts were common when Law was near, but this was…different. Your body tensed for something unknown, something thrilling — like a tornado forming in the sky.
Law’s breath hitched next to you. You wondered if he felt it, too.
You absently stroked his sheets, focusing on their silky texture and not on the way the skin of your hand was buzzing.
“Your sheets are nice.” Your voice came out a lot calmer than you felt.
Law shrugged. “It's a seal blanket from the North Blue. It stays cool.”
“I like it — it reminds me of the silk sheets I was trying out on Maiden Island…” you took a deep breath, hoping the delivery of your next line was smooth. “I hoped they wouldn't be uncomfortable for you…if you ever spent the night.”
Law froze. So much for being smooth.
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
