Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hancock’s first course of action, upon her elevation to Empress of Amazon Lily, is to ensure a wide buffer around her home that is considered too dangerous for any vessel bearing slaves to enter. With most of the ships her Kuja Pirates attack, they leave at least a few survivors, to spread the word of Hancock’s power and beauty and strength. But slavers? The disgusting merchants of human flesh she never allows to live. Their ‘merchandise’ is instead set free, given charge of the vessels formerly bearing them to or from Sabaody, or else towed to a nearby island where they might find assistance in getting home. Or, in the case of certain women, passage to Amazon Lily, to begin new lives, possibly even to grow strong enough to join Hancock’s crew in due time. But only women, and only if they express an interest in going.

Which makes it feel all the more blasphemous, the day Hancock finds three boys in chains upon the latest slave ship, and decides to take them home of her own accord.

She does not like being reminded of her history. Of being chained, and branded, forced to suffer for the pleasure of others. She especially does not like being reminded of feeling helpless to protect her sisters, suffering alongside in the same hell.

All of which is to say, when Hancock kicks down a heavy locked door, and finds herself staring down at a child holding himself braced in front of two others, her stomach swoops unpleasantly.

“Fuck off,” the boy snarls, his voice an ugly rasp - from lack of water or from screaming himself hoarse, Hancock cannot tell. She doesn’t need to tell. She only needs to turn her nose up at this disrespectful male and leave, allowing her subordinates to deal with him and-

One of the others whines, even smaller than the first boy, bound in different-colored chains, which Hancock coldly recognizes as seastone. “Ace?”

A single bare foot shifts, sliding across the rough wooden floor. Just enough to touch an outstretched hand. “S’okay, Luffy,” the first boy says, firm, never wavering in his sharp glare, or otherwise adjusting his protective stance. “We’re gonna be fine.”

The third child lets out a shaky exhale, slumped against the wall with the little one lying limp in his lap. “Nn- not if- you keep-” Speaking is clearly painful. A nasty burn dominates the left side of his face, sealing one eye shut, pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up, Sabo,” the first snaps. His breathing is coming faster now. His glare is turning the slightest bit desperate, looking up at Hancock where she still stands in the doorway. “Well? I said fuck off, leave us alone!”

Don’t touch me, stop it, leave us alone! We are Kuja warriors-

Not anymore you aren’t, girlie.

Finally, Hancock tips her chin up, defiant. “And if I do? Will you be able to get yourself out of those chains before this ship sinks?”

The boy blinks. Behind him, the little one makes a happy noise. “Told you, ‘s pirates-”

“And I told you, not all pirates are good,” the protector huffs, but his stiff shoulders have lowered, just the smallest bit. “...are they dead, then? The assholes sailing this ship?”

“I do not permit slavers who enter my territory to live,” Hancock informs him, her tone just as stern and cold as ever, but the boy sways with relief nonetheless, as if she has just promised him-

We’ll be alright, everything is going to be fine, Empress Tritoma will come rescue us and then we’ll go home, you’ll see.

History is staring Hancock in the face, twisting her guts with shame, and she does not like it. Fortunately, before she can say or do something unwarranted, a voice calls from the hall outside, one of her older warriors well-versed in the tricks of picking locks. “Hyacynthia,” Hancock says, stepping to one side to make the boys visible. “Release their chains. Has anything of value been found in the rest of the hold?”

“No, Empress,” the woman answers, ducking forward and kneeling, slender rod and needle already in hand. She reaches for the first boy, being the closest, but he jerks away as much as the heavy shackles on his wrists and ankles will allow.

“No,” he insists, jerking a chin at the other two. “Luffy first. They used something different to tie him up, it’s making him sick.”

“Seastone,” Hancock clarifies. “Go ahead.”

Hyacynthia makes a startled noise, but regardless obeys. “Did your friend eat a Devil Fruit, boy?”

“My brother,” and oh, the shame of her past swells up all over again, the hidden mark between her shoulder blades burning with years of pain and fury. Hancock clenches her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “Those bastards said it makes him valuable.”

“That tends to be the case,” Hyacynthia murmurs, her fingers working swiftly. Soon enough there’s a light click, and one shackle drops. “...must be a pretty impressive fruit, if you three are the only real cargo aboard.”

The older brother - oldest? - twitches. Hard. In such a way that Hancock immediately knows it isn’t only the Devil Fruit which landed them in this position. That is the reaction of personal guilt, an apprentice who thinks she has learned all she needs from her elders, and leads her two little sisters into adventure into trouble into a living nightmare-

The burned boy lets out a slight, shaky laugh. “Made him- rubber. Stuh-stupid rubber...”

“Stop talking, idiot.”

“Hnn.”

Don’t be a dummy, Mari, let the swelling go down before you try to talk.

Hyacynthia chuckles, working on the little one’s last chain. “Definitely siblings. What are your names, then?”

“Ace,” the oldest mutters. “And he’s Sabo. We’re-” Hesitation flickers across his grimy face, a faint delay that makes Hancock frown. “We’re the Portgas brothers.”

Mid-shift to Sabo’s chains, Hyacynthia freezes in place. “You’re- what?” Ace blinks. Hancock blinks. Before either of them can react further, Hyacynthia is reaching, brushing her hand over Ace’s cheek, wiping away some of the dirt and ash smeared across his bruised skin - and revealed underneath are a light smattering of freckles. The sight of them makes Hyacynthia suck in a sharp breath, and then she demands: “What is your mother’s name?”

The boy looks very lost. Not quite scared, but something near to it, alarmed by this question but highly aware he has nowhere to go. “My- R-rouge. Portgas D. Rouge.”

Something niggles at the back of Hancock’s mind.

“Where is she?” Hyacynthia is not demanding, she’s practically pleading, and that is utterly unbecoming of a Kuja warrior no matter the circumstances-

“She’s dead.” Two words. They look just as devastating for Ace to say as for Hyacynthia to hear. “She died just after I was born.”

The woman makes a mournful noise. But she recovers quickly, steadying her expression, before turning to look at Hancock. “Empress- these are Renee’s kin.”

Oh?

...oh.

Renee is something of a minor legend, on Amazon Lily. The silent warrior, who never smiles, never speaks. Hancock can vaguely recall the storm of gossip, over a decade ago, when the woman’s daughter left the Kuja Pirates in dramatic fashion, and Renee spent days screaming her fury throughout the island’s jungles. Eventually, her rage cooled, her screams stopped - but she remained a half-wild thing, refusing to live in the city, refusing to exchange words with anyone who sought her out.

If not for the poor way her leg had healed from an injury many years before, Renee almost certainly would have taken a ship to go retrieve her wayward daughter, declarations of love and loyalty aside. As it is, she has never left Amazon Lily’s jungles, to the point of attacking any who try coaxing her to do so.

Which means, when Hancock arrives home, it is up to her to seek the woman out.

Hyacynthia offers to go; she knew Rouge, served with the other warrior under Shakkuyaku and then Tritoma, but Ace has latched onto her with a desperate speed Hancock remembers all too well, ash-stained hands grasping Gloriosa’s skirt out of recognition and terrible hope. So Hancock leaves her with the boy and his brothers, tasks Mari and Sonia with watching over them, and sets off into the crowded trees.

It takes the better part of three hours, leaving the well-trod paths behind in favor of the wilder stretches, the places where beasts rule more so than the Kuja. Only deep into this part of the jungle does Hancock find her target.

Even leaning against a cane, Renee proves herself not to be underestimated.

A warning flares against Hancock’s mind, and she swiftly kicks high, catching and blocking the blade of a thin, wickedly sharp sword. The white-haired woman on the other end scowls, deeply irritated. “Portgas D. Renee,” Hancock says, filling the words with all the authority she’s learned to muster since succeeding Tritoma’s position, “I am Empress Boa Hancock. I have news of your daughter’s passing.”

The change is instantaneous.

That scowl remains, but the eyes above it widen with shock, followed deeply by soul-crushing pain. Renee drops her weapon, staggering back. She clearly takes several deep breaths, clutching tightly to her cane with both hands, easily the only thing preventing the woman from dropping to her knees.

Hancock remains respectfully quiet, until the elder warrior regains her composure. Only when Renee looks back up, expression suitably restrained with a single brow raised in question, does the Empress continue. “She died ten years ago, in the South Blue, after the exhaustion of a drawn-out pregnancy.” Renee blinks. “We have found her child- her son.” A sharp inhale. “He and two boys he has claimed as brothers were imprisoned on a ship bound for the slave markets of Sabaody; I chose to bring them here, so you might have the option of meeting your kin.”

Renee... hesitates.

Chapter Text

A child.

Rouge bore a child. A son.

Renee hesitates, but... even the wrong gender, even, almost certainly, the product of that idiot Roger, there is not a reason in the world strong enough to keep her away from her grandchild.

So.

For the first time in years, Renee strides out from beneath the thick trees, back onto one of Amazon Lily’s mountain roads. The new Empress easily keeps up with her, but remains thankfully silent. Renee knows Tritoma’s passing and the change of leadership were fairly recent, and yet, she can’t help but wonder at the choice of successor; this girl hardly appears to be twenty years old if she’s a day, elegant beauty and dangerous strength aside. Idle speculation turns over in Renee’s mind as they walk - better than anything else she could be thinking of right now.

Don’t be a fool, Rogue, if you want a strong daughter from the man, that’s one thing-

I want to have a baby with him, mother! As partners! As husband and wife!

Oh, of all the ridiculous notions-

Things said in anger, hiding a deeper swell of fear. Fear which proved correct, when Renee’s only daughter left the Kuja behind, never to be seen or heard from again. Not after Roger was arrested and executed, a year later. Certainly not after rumors began to circulate about an island in the South Blue, every infant born within an eighteen month span murdered by marines, and most of their mothers along with them.

Renee couldn’t say for certain. But she knew better than to hope.

And now, here, she finally has word: her daughter is truly gone.

But a piece of Rouge still lives.

When Renee finally reaches the valley nestled within the island’s hollow mountain, she can see the current crew of the Kuja Pirates gathered in the courtyard at the base of the final fort. She can also spy three little figures in their midst, one swinging from a large green-haired girl’s outstretched arm, two more standing close by, leaning upon one another. The littlest, Renee discounts immediately; too young, even if Rouge did extend her pregnancy beyond its natural span. Of the others, her gaze is first drawn to the one with blonde hair - though as she gets closer it seems to be the wrong shade, too pale to be a match to her daughter’s.

Only twenty steps away, the third boy turns his head, looking first at the Empress, and then Renee herself. He certainly could be Roger’s offspring, that short dark hair framing his face, the steely gaze-

And then Renee nearly trips over her own cane.

Freckles.

Mamaaa, stop it!

I can’t, my flower, not until I’ve kissed- every- dot!

When she wanted a child of her own, she picked a man with freckles for the task, finding the speckled patterns too cute to resist. She felt delighted when the baby was born with a handful already on each cheek, which grew in number over the years spent in sunshine. She has missed those freckles.

Though the twisted bone in her left leg protests, Renee drops to her knees before the child. He stares, wide-eyed, the steel in his gaze vanished, replaced by uncertainty. By fear.

He shouldn’t be afraid. Not of her.

“Portgas D. Renee,” the young Empress announces, drawing sharp inhales from the two older boys, and causing the third to drop to the ground and bound over. “I present to you Portgas D. Ace, and his claimed brothers Sabo and Luffy.”

“Hi!” The little one beams. The blonde follows with some polite greeting, but Renee cannot spare even a shred of her attention to the words, too focused on the nervous freckled face in front of her.

Pale grey eyes are still wary, but there’s a flicker behind them, a tentative spark of hope she understands all too well. So Renee tries to coax it forward, lifting up her wrinkled hand, gently cupping one of his cheeks and brushing her thumb over the freckles that cover it. And for the first time in all the years since her daughter left, Renee speaks. “Ace?”

Very quiet. Hardly more than a rasp of a whisper. But many of the Kuja all around them gasp, and the child gulps. “Y- yeah. Yes.”

“Ace,” Renee repeats, allowing the tiniest hint of a smile to curl her mouth. A day of firsts, it seems. “My Rogue’s baby.”

His eyes go wide. The hopeful spark grows better visible. “Your...?”

“My daughter,” she clarifies, voice growing more confident, despite long disuse. “I never knew- if she, got the child, she wanted- so badly.” Her smile grows, and her second hand comes up, cradling Ace’s face, feeling the pressure as he sways just a hint closer. “But here you are.”

Smaller fingers grasp at her elbow, finally pulling Renee’s gaze away from her grandson’s face, to blink down at the smaller boy with his wide grin and too-big straw hat and a curved scar under one eye. “You’re really Ace’s grandma?!”

His other hand remains firmly in the grasp of the blonde boy, who in turn is still leaning against Ace, unmatched but very clearly a joined set. His claimed brothers, the young Empress said. So Renee simply allows her smile to turn sly, and tells him, “I think, I must be Grandma to all of you.”

The little one cheers, his blonde brother grins, and the hope in Ace’s eyes blooms.

It is entirely too disconcerting to be back in the city after so long, to say nothing of the day’s other developments. So only a few hours along, once the children have eaten and fully bathed and been given better clothing to wear while their own torn outfits are washed and mended, Renee asks if they would like to see her home, out in the jungle.

“Yeah!” Luffy agrees first. “Do you live in a treehouse too?”

After a fashion. Early in the days of her self-imposed solitude, Renee found a large, hollow tree, which she used piled stones and wood platforms to turn into a multi-tiered cottage of sorts. It serves as a cozy enough place to sleep at night, or to nap through hot afternoons, and does well in keeping out pests that would otherwise gorge upon her food stores. Utilitarian, above all else.

The boys adore it at first sight.

“Wow,” Sabo breathes, one visible eye gleaming, the other protected by a bandage that smells strongly of burn-salve. “You have so many booby traps.” Clearly a fellow enthusiast, he promptly begins inspecting all the deterrents Renee has erected to protect her tree, Luffy eagerly bouncing along in his wake - literally bouncing, thanks to a Devil Fruit the child somehow got ahold of in the East Blue.

Ace, though. Ace stays right next to Renee, never out of arm’s reach, and constantly leaning closer whenever she gently sets a hand atop his head. He watches his brothers intently, clearly just as curious and excited, but there are also several darting glances aimed at Renee, constantly checking her reactions, ensuring she hasn’t disappeared.

It hurts just as much as it warms her heart.

(Taken to the East as a newborn, deposited with a handful of bandits, largely left to his own devices until falling in with Sabo, and later Luffy; even just the broad strokes are enough to make Renee’s blood boil. Actual details might push her to murder, if Ace ever shares a name beyond ‘Gramps’ as the guilty party.)

“You live out here by yourself?” Her grandson asks, when he and Renee stand at the base of the tree’s interior, both watching as Luffy and Sabo climb higher and higher. She nods. “Do- and you don’t, mind? If we stay? Just- at least for just a while-”

His words stop short the moment Renee bends down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Hopefully, that gets her point across.

The Empress returns that evening, with her two sisters, and Rouge’s old friend Hyacynthia. They bring more than enough food for dinner along - at least, that is what Renee thinks, until the boys actually begin to eat, and she realizes their appetites rival her own. Perhaps even exceed it, in Luffy’s case. There’s also the mended clothing, and a small chest of medical supplies: more bandages and burn-salve for Sabo, plus bruise-balm for all the boys.

And, of all things, Hyacynthia has brought along a trio of toys; stuffed snakes, the exteriors dyed bright colors and soft to the touch. She saves them until after dinner, then presents the set with a flourish, handing one to each of the baffled children.

“...what’s it for,” Ace asks with clear confusion, and Renee feels her heart break all over again. Even on Amazon Lily, renowned for their fighting prowess and fierce dedication to strength, children are given soft things to cuddle and play with.

Luffy, after inspecting his yellow and white snake for a long moment, suddenly grins with wicked intent - and bops his eldest brother over the head with the toy.

In very short order, the boys are all wrestling in a heap, smacking each other like their snakes are particularly cumbersome and ineffective weapons, laughing up a storm. Renee chuckles herself, watching them, aware but uncaring of how her softness disturbs the younger women.

Well- disturbs the Boa sisters, at least, who are young enough they’ve surely grown up on the legend of her surly nature. Hyacynthia, though, just looks immensely pleased with herself.

While the children are occupied with their new game, Empress Hancock clears her throat. “Renee... while it was my choice to bring them here to meet you, I cannot allow these boys to remain on Amazon Lily for long. Already, the news of their arrival is causing dismay within the city, and my advisor Elder Nyon insists it would be best for them to depart just as swiftly.”

Humming, Renee doesn’t bother to look at the girl as she answers, “Glori should mind her own damn business.”

The sisters all twitch uneasily, while Hyacynthia blinks, confused. Renee knows perfectly well the true identity of Elder ‘Nyon’ is a secret; Gloriosa visits to have tea with her once a month, and complain at length about the state of the world compared to their youth. It’s certainly livened up the past few years, even if Renee has never said a word in return, nor even cracked a grin at just how short the other woman has shrunk. That might change, if Glori stops by before-

Before the boys leave.

Because they are boys, doomed to eventually grow into men, and despite her newfound affections, Renee agrees, they cannot remain on Amazon Lily. Even as it rankles, that her home, well protected by the Kuja warriors, by the Calm Belt, even by Hancock’s recent ascension to Warlord of the Sea, is possibly the safest place in the world for Ace to be hidden from savage marines out for the Pirate King’s blood. But Rouge bore a son, not a daughter, and he claimed for himself two brothers, not sisters.

So Renee sighs, still watching her grandchildren, and tells the startled Empress: “Give me one week to pack.”