Chapter Text
I followed somberly behind my shipmates as we were filed in a line towards the giant red and white striped circus tent. Each of our hands were bound in front of us by rope, and we moved slowly so as not to lose our balance. There were only about ten of us left after the battle; our ship was meant for transporting cargo, not taking on pirates. It didn’t help matters that the pirates we encountered were particularly ruthless. It seemed like they took the whole thing with amusement, as if killing us off one by one was just a game in their little carnival.
They leered at us now, with their demented smiles and blood-splattered costumes as we entered the large but dimly-lit tent. Of course I’d heard of the Buggy Pirates, a crew of circus freaks who terrorized the East Blue. I’d seen the wanted posters in town squares depicting their captain’s painted face grinning from ear to ear, but I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d certainly never thought of Buggy the Clown as someone to take seriously—not until he was standing in front of me as my captor.
Buggy’s smudged red smile was open in a grin as we were led to a row of hanging hooks along the side of the circus ring. Over his blue hair he wore a red captain’s hat, paired with a fur-trimmed mustard yellow coat. “Don’t look so glum!” said the clown, his voice carrying across the immense space. “You’re at a circus! Let’s see some smiles.” He got in the face of a portly man, who looked bewildered by the request. “Cheeeeese,” Buggy said, poking his gloved fingers into the man’s mouth and tugging the corners up.
The man tried to retreat but Buggy’s grip was firm; the man’s saucer-like eyes watered from the pressure. “Cheese?” the man repeated through clenched teeth.
“There you go sport!” praised Buggy, giving the man a playful slap on the cheek before moving on.
It was a different thing seeing the clown captain up close, with the crossbones on his forehead and the large red nose in the middle of his face. Turquoise paint framed his piercing green eyes and stubble coated his chiseled jawline. I realized with some weariness that despite the kookiness of it all, the ‘Flashy Fool’ was an undeniably handsome man. A murderous psycho, probably, but handsome nonetheless.
One by one, the cargo ship’s crew was forced to raise their arms above their heads as the pirates attached their bound hands to the large metal hooks. The hooks, I could see now, were hanging from lines that spanned the enormous tent and seemed to be part some elaborate pulley system. While this was being done, Buggy continued cracking jokes in the background. “We just had to rope you in for our little shenanigans today,” he said with glee. “Hope you’ll hang out for a bit.”
When it was my turn, the pirate crewmember had to lift me slightly to get my bound wrists on the hook. When he was done, the toes of my boots just barely touched the ground.
“Careful, Mohji,” Buggy joked. “I think this one likes it.” He winked at me, and my breath caught in my throat. I turned my face quickly. Do not blush in front of this psycho clown, do not blush in front of this psycho clown! I thought feverishly, but it was no use.
“Woah, hello!” exclaimed Buggy with giddy amusement as my cheeks warmed. He skipped closer to me and crouched so we were face to face. “Hit the nail on the head with that one, did I, sugar?” I kept my gaze averted and my mouth shut. “What, don’t feel like chatting? C’mon, we were just getting to know each other!”
Buggy reached out and touched the place where my shirt rose above my midriff and a pleasant shiver ran through my body. His fingers had barely grazed me, but I let out an audible squeak before clamping my eyes shut from humiliation. I knew my face had gone tomato red. What the everloving fuck is wrong with me?
Buggy jumped back as though my skin had burned him, but he was cackling like a maniac. “Wooo we are gonna have fun with you,” he said, grabbing the hook above my head and giving it a push. I glided out to the center of the ring, the toes of my boots skittering against the ground trying to get a grip. I slowed to a stop smack in the middle of the ring, facing rows of empty bleachers.
Buggy appeared around my shoulder. “What’s your name sweetheart?” he asked, still chuckling. He was close to me now, and his bright green eyes seemed to glow from within.
I took a deep breath. “Kitty,” I answered in the strongest voice I could muster.
“Kitty?” he echoed with raised eyebrows. Even my name seemed to amuse him.
I steeled myself. “Kitty Roger,” I said.
“Kitty Roger ?” he laughed. “Not of that Roger, surely?” When I didn’t answer, his face lit up in disbelief. “Noooo. No way!” he said, backing away, his voice getting louder again. “Everyone, did you hear?” he addressed the room, though most of his crew was still at the edge of the ring and definitely hadn’t heard. “It’s the Pirate King’s daughter! She’s Gold Roger’s kid! Haha!” He looked back at me with a new interest. “Kitty… Princess Kitty? That does make you a princess, doesn’t it?”
Again I stayed silent. I watched cautiously as he circled me like a shark. “Princess Kitty… old Goldy’s daughter… I was sorry to hear about your dad, y’know. He was quite a guy.”
“Fuck off,” I said plainly, almost instinctually.
In a second Buggy was back in front of me, holding my jaw in his hand. His handsome face was close to mine and his grin took on a devilish air. “Ohhh, Princess ,” he relished the word. His breath smelled like peppermint. “I think I’m gonna keep you around a while. After all, it’s not everyday royalty comes for a visit.”
“Don’t,” I said through my pinched cheeks, trying to twist my face from his grip.
“Oh come on. Aren’t we having fun? I thought you liked this game.” He frowned mockingly and ran a finger from his free hand down my cheek and neck. I made another involuntary noise, a little too close to a moan, and Buggy chortled. He twisted around me so his chin rested on my shoulder and we were both facing the empty bleachers. “How do you feel about an audience?” he asked, his breath warm on my cheek. “I don’t usually like sharing my spotlight, but…” As he spoke his hand snaked around my waist, his fingers brushing across my exposed hip.
“Stop,” I breathed. “Stop,” I repeated with more force.
His arm pulled away. “Not into the audience thing? That’s fair. Mohji!” Buggy called to his crewmate. “C’mere and show the princess here to her suite!” He lifted my hands off the hook and set me down on the ground, and Mohji put a hand on my shoulder to lead me out of the tent.
“‘Til next time, Princess!” Buggy winked at me. “Now, back to the matter at hand.” He turned back to the others with a clap. “Knife-throwing practice!”
Mohji led me away, and the sound of a machine whirring and pleading protests began just as the tent flaps closed behind us.