This journey wasn't meant to be long or complicated. Nothing more than a swift sail over to see the sights on a nearby island, really. And yet, here you were...
In no small part due to an unexpected and unusually vicious sea storm, you now saw yourself stranded. It was miraculous enough that the raging waters and tumultuous winds hadn't claimed your soul when the ship had been torn asunder beneath your feet. Finally coming to with much disorientation upon a sandy beach was another blessing you weren't sure who to whisper your silent thanks to.
Drenched in sea water, cold, hungry and thirsty from being adrift at sea--you really had no clue how long you'd been out for--you did what you could to gain your bearings and figure out where in hell's name you'd become stranded. No easy feat, given it was quite late into the night and the wind forced you to squint your eyes against the strong gusts.
A subtle path that lead further into the island gave you some sort of direction to go, illuminated only by the moon's pale face. And so you followed, stumbling and swaying with each step. It seemed surviving the storm had taken more out of you than you could have imagined.
The longer you walked, you slowly began to realize where you had ended up. And the more the truth came to light, the less thankful you were for having washed up here in the first place.
Kuraigana. There was no mistaking it. No other island was said to be quite as desolate, and bleak. That, and the tell-tale signs of a weathered castle in the far distance really cemented your hypothesis in place. Oh, dear...
What else were you to do, though? You certainly couldn't wait outside through the night, still dripping with sea water and at the island's mercy. You needed shelter, and despite your reservations about the only known resident, it was still a better alternative to hanging out by the coast only to die of exposure to the elements.
The trek to the castle was longer than you'd anticipated, and many dangerous things growled from within the darkness of the trees. What sort of horrors this place had lurking in the blackness, you didn't dare think about. Who would make such a place their home, you couldn't help but wonder? You supposed a man who feared nothing would...
By the time you made it to the clearing where the castle was situated--looming and glaring down from high above, the rocks a pearly gray--you were on the verge of collapse. Exhaustion threatened to steal away your consciousness any moment now.
You made it another 6 steps before you finally gave in, stumbling on your weary feet, letting the darkness take you before you'd even hit the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You expected the cold, harsh ground of the island beneath you when you next awoke. Instead, you felt soft, crisp linen. The wetness of the seawater you'd been drenched in was also absent. And it was almost uncomfortably warm. Strange...
You wrestle your eyes open, blinking to clear away the fog, until you can finally make a semblance of sense of your surroundings. You lay in an unfamiliar bed, clean sheets and a white blanket covering the top of you. Stone walls, a crackling fireplace set against the opposite wall.
The sight of a man seated in a chair beside the fire, a newspaper held loosely in one hand, nearly gave you a start. You let out a small, involuntary gasp, which is enough noise to draw his attention to you.
Those yellow, hawk-like eyes pierce into you without emotion. The attraction you'd otherwise have towards the handsome Warlord is halted in its tracks by his title and reputation. Dracule Mihawk was not a man to cross, irritate, or inconvenience. And here you were...taking up a room in his castle after collapsing at his doorstep, supposedly doing all three.
"You're incredibly lucky the humandrils didn't find you before I did. They aren't known for their mercy, even against those who are incapable of fighting back." He says bluntly, as if the topic of your possible death wasn't at all unsettling. Not to mention you had no clue what a humandril was...
You're unsure what to say, throat dry as you look back. If he's bothered by your silence, or persistent staring, he doesn't show it.
His brow cocks upwards. "I assume you know who I am, and where you are?"
"...I do." You say, finally having found your voice.
He nods slowly. "Then I think it's only fair to ask who you are...and what you might be doing here."
"I'm...Y/N." You admit, before you can think of the consequences of revealing your identity to a man as powerful as him. There was nothing to be done about it now.
"My ship was wrecked in a storm. I don't remember much of what happened after I was thrown into the sea, only that the waves threatened to pull me under, yet somehow I ended up on your shore." You glance away. "I don't even know how long I was out there."
His gaze suddenly shifts to the side, and you follow where he's directed his attention to. The tall window set into the stone wall gave what would have been an incredible view of the surrounding land, had the fog and lashing rain not blocked the scenery. Ah, you hadn't even noticed the weather until now.
"I imagine this is the storm that destroyed your ship, then." He muses, almost to himself. "It reached the island a few hours after I found you collapsed at my door."
You nod, taking in this information.
An uneasy silence spanned the length of several seconds, broken as he pivoted his piercing eyes back to you. "As it stands now, it would be impossible to leave the island. I will permit you to stay here temporarily, only until the storm passes, by which time you will depart on one of my rowboats."
The reality is bleak. Even with a boat, you weren't sure how you'd manage to make it to the next island without a log pose and no map to guide you. Now wasn't the time to ask if your unwitting host would care to part with some supplies when you did eventually leave, so you kept silent.
You heard him give a disappointed sigh, no doubt unhappy by your unanticipated arrival. "I don't make it a habit of taking in unfortunate strays, but I am not cruel enough to simply send you to your certain death. In that regard I hope you recognize your extreme luck, and possess the sensibility not to press it."
Nodding in understanding, you swallowed hard, hoping the nervousness didn't show through. He stood suddenly, face as impassive as it had remained through almost the entire conversation.
"Rest, and if you're feeling up to it, find the kitchen for something to sate your hunger and thirst."
And without so much as another glance, he was gone out the bedroom door, leaving you alone with this new and strange predicament.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For a castle as big as this one, there's almost nothing to do. It felt lifeless. The empty shell housing only one man who had so little to say to you. And once you'd sufficiently recovered from the exhausting ordeal of surviving being adrift at sea, boredom begins to set in quickly.
The tremendous storm that wreaked havoc on your ship was still raging outside. Now three days since your discovery on Mihawk's doorstep, you couldn't help but wonder how such an unnatural occurrence could even be possible. But you supposed this was the New World, and the word impossible held very little meaning here.
You'd seen Mihawk around much more often than you would have expected to. The castle was by no means small, and you'd thought he'd try to avoid you whenever possible. From what you knew of him, he wasn't much the socialite, and clearly he wasn't too happy with your presence here in his residence. Yet still, you'd pass each other by at various points each day as you wandered and explored.
Each and every time, his demeanor made it clear of one thing. The day you left was one he eagerly looked forward to. And for as much as you understood his reason why, it was still dismaying to be the cause of such ire.
What contempt that handsome face held for you...if only circumstances were different.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinners were mostly a quiet affair.
...mostly.
You sat opposite one another at the long dining table, the muffled sounds of the still-tempestuous storm ever-present over the clinking of your silverware against the ceramic plates. It was a constant reminder that, despite the fact you weren't technically welcome here, there was no safe way of leaving. A fact that your host, no doubt, was increasingly resentful of.
And yet when you were digging into some of the most delicious food you'd ever tasted in your lifetime, it was easy to forget that.
It was one of the few times that you felt comfortable enough to speak to him, the delicious food putting you in a good mood, and boosting your confidence. His dangerous eyes were always somewhat of a ward to conversation, but despite that, you never failed to show your appreciation of his skills in the kitchen, and thank him for the wonderful meal.
Your willingness to talk to him, compliment the results of his work in the kitchen, never ceased to confuse him, you felt. Watching his brow raise, and see him pause for just a moment before graciously accepting your thanks with closed eyes and a quiet nod, you wondered if perhaps you he was caught off guard by your kindness. Was he not used to such behavior? Hmm.
And you couldn't deny...his sharp gaze, unwavering confidence, and attractive face was completely disarming. He was everything you admired in a man: suave, contemplative, mature--practically the epitome of all that you adored--and yet he was oh so distant. Aloof.
He was dangerous, yes, you knew. Even an idiot could recognize that. But surely...there was more to the world's greatest swordsman than met the eye?
You couldn't help but wonder as you drifted off to sleep each night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You tried to be a courteous guest, but boredom was a constant, whispering tempter in you ear...
The halls of the castle promised an endless number of rooms to explore, old and forgotten secrets from the occupants long gone. You'd quickly come to the conclusion that Mihawk did not use most of the rooms in the castle, going only a few places on a daily basis.
You'd chanced upon an old piano in what you could only assume was one of those unused rooms. It lay dusty and ignored in the corner of what looked like an anteroom. There was little else of interest here other than the black-wood instrument.
Sitting at the bench, you lift the fallboard and see that all of the keys are intact, and with luck, in tune.
You tap and poke at some of them experimentally, finding the tune just barely off key, but not enough to sound unpleasant. In such a cold castle, it was miraculous they didn't twang an entire key off pitch. Without any sort of specific melody in your head, you simply play a few harmonious chords, slowly making up something as you went along.
Those slowly turned into more complicated chords, which reminded you of songs from home, until you gently played something you were intimately familiar with.
For the first time since you'd arrived here, you felt like this place actually had some life left in it. Though hidden away, the castle's heart still beat. In little ways, the pulse beat quietly and steadily on, waiting for someone to feel it. Well, here was one such vein. You felt yourself smiling.
You couldn't be sure how long he'd been standing there, leaning against the entrance's doorframe. But when you finally noticed him, a dark figure in the corner of your eye, you startled and miskeyed the next chord as you whipped your head towards him.
Instantly, you stood, terrified of being the target of his displeasure. "I...I'm sor-"
You're cut off by his raised hand, halting the rest of your nervous apology. As always, his face was unreadable, neutral and carefully masked. But you think you begin to understand him a little bit more as he turns his wrist, softly gesturing to the piano you'd been playing.
"Continue."
It's rude to stare, but in this moment it's so difficult not to. You blink away your surprise, trying desperately to glean whatever he was thinking from behind his cool gaze as you slowly returned to your seat. Deciding that for now, there was no use in questioning it, you look back at the keys and reset your fingers above them.
He listened. Just...stood there and closed his eyes as you played. He didn't move, body still, as if any movement at all would cause you to stop again. And that's how he stayed until dinner needed preparing that night, never speaking a word, and yet you thought you could see something new behind that closed-off and stony expression of his.
Something...soft.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You weren't sure how long you'd been standing at the window, watching the storm continue to do it's worst to the island outside. The castle was sturdier than you'd anticipated, given the surrounding landscape's ruins and crumbling remains of civilization before. Even the windows showed no sign of breaking. Here in Mihawk's castle, you were safe, if not also trapped.
There was no end in sight to this terrible storm. You'd never yearned for the sight of sunlight this much before.
A melancholy had settled over you, perhaps due to a mixture of loneliness and the overall situation. You had no choice but to remain sheltered in the home of someone who hadn't wanted you here in the first place. It was at times difficult to ignore the feeling of intrusion, and you couldn't help but feel down about it.
Without meaning to, you let out a disappointed sigh, arms crossed as you gazed sadly out the rain-spattered window.
A clearing of a throat drew your attention.
The glass of red wine held out in your direction was unexpected to say the least. When your gaze lifted to the man offering the drink to you, he looked almost...understanding. Apologetic. You couldn't be certain which of the two was more appropriate. Had he finally realized that you hadn't had much of a choice in coming here? Or, maybe he'd come to appreciate your company? Who could really say?
Still, this small gift of a sort--you'd quickly learned how much he enjoyed wine during your stay so far--felt much like an olive branch. A clean slate, to start things anew. He'd been rather unpleasant to you thus far. Not blatantly cruel, of course, but the distaste towards you had been palpable to say the least. Now, much of that resentment was absent as he watched you quietly contemplate taking the drink.
Daring a small smile, you accepted the glass, further surprised as he took up a stance across from you, his own gaze turning outwards to the raging storm.
For once, the silence felt...comfortable. And not for the first time, you swear to yourself that there is something more behind the stoic exterior of the World's Greatest Swordsman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were many interesting novels in Mihawk's library. The castle contained many old publications of a multitude of genres. Most were original editions of their respective titles, and some you suspected to be knowledge that the World Government would certainly wished destroyed. With dozens of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled to the brim with hardback books, there was never a lack of reading material present.
Had he read every one? Did he want to? Suddenly the answers felt so important. What a silly thought...
You found yourself curled up in one of the cushioned chairs within the library one afternoon, cradling a rather comical book in your lap. You'd been taken by surprise with its humor, but after such a long and stale stay in this drab castle, you felt you were in need of a good laugh. And so you'd gotten comfortable and settled down to read it all.
At some point, Mihawk had joined you, selecting his own book from one of the shelves and taking up a seat across the way; far away enough not to disturb you or impede on your space, but close enough that you could still claim to be reading together. It was a respectable distance. You wished it was closer...
You're horrified when a hilarious joke from the book yanks an undignified snort of laughter from you. The sound is cut off almost as soon as you make it, but you feel your face go hot as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. Almost instinctually, your eyes flick up towards Mihawk.
Your heart gives a particularly hard thump against your chest when you notice the lift at the corner of his mouth. He...was smiling. Respectfully, he keeps his gaze on his own book. But the amusement is there, and you don't get the impression he's mocking you.
With a matching smile, you return to your own book. But the sight of that expression is forever burned into your mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His sudden desire to talk catches you off guard, nearly causing you to cut your finger with the knife you were using to chop a tomato. First his request to help him prepare dinner, and now inquisitive questions? Wasn't this a strange night...
When did you learn to play? Why were you on the ship that wrecked and caused you to wash ashore to his island? Where were you from? What had been so funny in that book you were reading? There seemed no end to them, really.
His voice was quiet, and the questions he asked were short, but you are almost dizzy with realization that this is the most he's spoken to you since your surprise arrival to his home. Where was all of this coming from? You suppose you shouldn't really care. It was better than the cold shoulder he'd been exuding the first few days.
He talked all through dinner, your discussion moving to that of more personal topics little by little, things that you felt you could trust him enough to disclose.
His interest was...well, you can't tamper the desire that burns in your chest the longer he speaks with you. Your attraction to him had rekindled since his demeanor towards you changed, and having him look at you like that--like you were so incredibly intriguing, so wonderfully unique and interesting--oh, what was a woman to do? A man as handsome and intense as Dracule Mihawk, strong and capable, with his eyes on you? That was the stuff of fantasies.
With each of his prying questions, he offered an answer to one of your own. You started small--likes, dislikes, where he was from, and what had driven him to be a swordsman--but over time, and with his encouragement, you delved more into what made Mihawk the man he was. Regrets, ambitions, perspectives and lessons learned from his life traveling and fighting.
His aloof facade hid so much from the world. He did possess a sense of humor, you'd discovered as well, though he rarely felt the desire or thought to show it. It wasn't fair, you thought, that he hid such a thoughtful and contemplative, complex man, one who had become humbled and yet so confident by the world and his place in it.
And when was the last time he'd gotten to speak with another about these personal, emotional, soul-bearing topics? Had he ever? Did Dracule Mihawk ever, in his years sailing the seas and defeating many armies-worth of enemies in duels, have someone he could bear his old soul to?
The wistful smiles, solemn gazes, and stale chuckles barely audible above the wind and rain outside made your heart ache with the knowledge that such a thing was unlikely. And that thought only fueled your questions, lengthened your conversations, deep into the night with glasses of wine to encourage the words past your lips.
You were so desperate to know all there was to this peculiar and fascinating Warlord. Selfishly, you hoped that his willingness to oblige your curiosity--and indulge his own--meant that perhaps he wanted to be understood, to be known for more than his reputation, than his skill.
To be seen as Mihawk, and nothing more.
And it was over the course of that night that you knew: leaving this place, leaving this man, would crush you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You supposed it was only natural for a castle as large as this to house a ballroom. What you hadn't anticipated was the grand scale of it.
Situated in one of the furthest wings of the castle, in the sections that Mihawk seldom felt the need to visit, you peeked your head into the enormous room, immediately caught with wonder at the size. With fresco-painted ceilings over 20 feet above and one side of the room completely taken up by beautiful and incredibly colorful stained glass windows, you felt small and insignificant as you stepped inside.
Your slow steps eventually took you to the center of the room, taking in the grandiose atmosphere. Despite the dust, it still left you feeling like you were remarkably under-dressed. Certainly only a bejeweled gown and fancy heels were fit for such a space.
What a sight it must have been, the dances and parties held here. This place had surely not seen such merriment in years, the music long ago faded into echoes against the graying wallpaper. If you closed your eyes, you swear you could hear the music, the swell of the orchestra, and the muted swish of ladies' skirts amidst the crowd of dancers-
And then you heard it. The music! Eyes snapping open, you look towards the entrance with a quiet gasp, where you watch Mihawk set down a small object on a tiny side table set against the wall. You blink. A tone dial. The source of the violins and brass band that currently echoed throughout the room. Such things were rare, but perhaps the recording had been hidden away somewhere in the castle from years back.
He walks towards you, dressed down to only his pants and white shirt. You can feel the anticipation swirling in your veins as the music begins to crescendo, the suspicion of what he was hoping to do here, and when he finally reaches you and holds out a hand in invitation, you swallow back the burn of appreciation in your heart.
"May I have this dance?"
You're struck by the reality, and inadvertently stumble out a reply. "I don't kn-know how..."
"It would be my pleasure to teach you, then." Is his reply, smooth and without hesitation. And the encouraging smile he gives you is enough to have you reach out and take his hand.
And when he pulls you close, hands holding you gently to his chest, his warm breath whispering instructions in your ear, you feel the last of your resistance against the feelings in your chest fall away.
The start is slow, your steps unsure and hesitant, but he's a talented and patient partner. The song ends, but the next begins within moments, and so the dance goes on.
"That's it." He mumbles, half to himself. "You're a natural..."
The praise lights a fire in your heart.
If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine the golden lights of the chandeliers above, the swelling sound of the orchestra, and envision yourself in a fanciful gown. How easy it would be, to lose yourself in that wonderful imagination.
But you don't. You can't bring yourself to close them and miss a single second of dancing in his arms. Not when Mihawk's golden gaze is affixed to you, never straying for a moment, irises traveling the contours of your face, down your neck and then back up again, mapping and memorizing your visage. Like you were the only thing worth looking at in this elegant and picturesque ballroom.
You dared not breathe, afraid he'd look away. Under the hawk's stare, you were everything. All he wanted, and all you desired to be. What you wouldn't give to stay this way for days and weeks, and perhaps for as long as you lived.
Words get stuck in your throat. Meaningful words. Ones that only felt right with his mouth inches from your own. It would be so easy, you think, to speak them and see what might unfold.
In the end you stay silent. Because perhaps this night, dancing in the rays of the colored moonlight through the fading stained glass, was better kept a cherished memory than a painful regret.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was quiet.
Silent.
Not a single rustled leaf, nor the timid tap of a raindrop to be heard.
For the first time since you arrived...the island was totally still. The storm had passed, quietly into the night, as if it had never been at all. Gray skies had lightened, sun filtering through the windows, offering a bright morning to awaken to. The peace outside rang so hollow after almost 2 weeks of unending fury you initially suspected it was all a dream.
You remember once having yearned for the storm to end, for this unwanted term of shelter to cease, for the opportunity to be released from Mihawk's hospitality and finally get on your way towards home.
But now...
You dragged your feet as you wandered the castle, in search of your host. You'd never had such trouble finding him before, having bumped into one another several times even when you weren't looking for one another. But now, the castle was quiet and felt so much emptier than it ever had before.
The life, the warmth, you'd felt these past several days was gone, replaced by a dread and a hole somewhere in your heart. It was a childish notion, to ever toss about the idea of staying here forever. You'd known from the start, that this was a temporary arrangement. And now it was time to go. But surely he'd at least see you out, to make sure you actually leave as he'd first demanded?
And then you think you understood.
Perhaps this was his way of bidding you farewell, allowing you to leave without so much as a goodbye. Was it just as painful for him, to see you leave? Was he loath to watch you walk away, growing smaller in the distance until he could no longer see you at all? No, that was your own heartache speculating, surely...
Maybe it was better this way. Thinking over it all, you don't think you'd have the heart to leave of your own volition if you did see him once more. And at least this way, you could hold the feelings you'd not spoken to him close to your heart, under lock and key, until the day you perished.
Yes. It was better this way.
Perhaps, someday, you'd actually believe it.
Your heart was heavy as you approached the main entryway of the castle, looking up at the doors you had only seen briefly before you'd collapsed in exhaustion that first fateful night. They looked so much more beautiful from this side.
You lay your hand on the metal knob, tensing your wrist as you twisted it open.
"Y/N."
The sound of your name on his lips nearly brings you to tears. No. You didn't have the heart for this. You couldn't see him once more, see the disregard in his eyes like on that first night. It would break you.
Lowering your head, you close your eyes briefly, before finding the courage to turn and face him. And where you expected to see that cold mask of indifference back in place, the prospect of your departure breaking whatever spell had settled over the both of you during your forced proximity...there was only desperation.
Composed as always, of course, but desperate all the same. Mihawk stopped a few feet away, chest rising and falling a bit quicker than was natural--had he been running?--eyes flicking back and forth over your face.
You decide to be the first to speak, because hearing him tell you to go was too much to bear.
"I remember seeing your rowboat when I came to the castle the first time." Your voice feels wooden and hollow. You swallow, hoping not to sound too distraught. "I think I can manage bringing it to the shore on my own."
"Y/N." He says again, this time a bit more forcefully.
He closes the distance between you slowly, approaching as if you would run, until he's close enough to reach his hand up and brush a thumb down the line of your jaw.
You know it's stupid, but you relish the sensation of his skin on yours while you can. It would be so painful later to remember, but for now you'd burn the moment into memory. The ghost of a touch morphs into him cradling your cheek, and he leans forward until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.
"Please..." He mutters, so quiet and so close you're almost unsure you hear him properly, "stay."
"But the storm-"
"I know." His head slowly shakes. "And I don't care."
The words he's spoken are so unexpected, you open your mouth but nothing comes out. He takes your silence as uncertainty.
"You've changed this place, somehow. I didn't see it at first. Didn't realize how you...breathed new life into every crack in these stones." His eyes have drifted lower, to the curve of your trembling mouth. "There's a warmth, wherever I go. You've filled a part of this place, or me, that I hadn't realized was missing...I fear that emptiness returning, when you depart from here."
"I-"
"This place can be your home, if you desire."
"Mihawk..." You trail away, equal parts confounded and elated by his offer. You smile briefly, huffing out a shocked laugh. He's so close, you blink a few times but always end up settling on the way his lips come ever nearer to your own. "I don't know what to say."
"Say yes, Y/N." Is his whispered plead.
How could you not? You felt the last of your fears melt away, his adoring gaze shattering all of the fears and worries you'd allowed to settle into your chest like jagged glass. Your breathless reply is answered with the press of his lips to your own, stealing any and all desire to ever leave this castle again.
ns 15.158.61.40da2
