"Come on," the Marine looked down at the wanted poster of Varin, squinting his eyes and raising a brow in confusion as he studied the name printed across the top in bold letters. "Brast, I'm just going to call you Brast. Commander Leif wishes for you to meet the other prisoner."
It was morning now, and Varin hadn't slept at all. Instead, he'd opted to pace until a groove had been worn into the stone beneath his feet, a physical manifestation of his anxiety and frustration carved into the floor of his cell by hours of relentless movement. His mind hadn't been able to stop, leaving him more irritable, if that was even possible. Robin was somewhere in this fortress, somewhere above or below or in some direction he couldn't even determine from the confines of his cell. His crew was out there, probably doing exactly what he'd predicted and planning some kind of assault on Enies Lobby to retrieve him and Robin. And he was stuck here, powerless due to seastone, unable to do anything except think and pace and wear grooves into stone.
The Marine who'd come to collect him near noon was younger, probably not much older than some of the crew members, with the kind of face that suggested he hadn't yet learned to develop the hardened expression that came with years of military service. He looked distinctly uncomfortable with the task of escorting a prisoner through Enies Lobby, like he was acutely aware that he was dealing with something far more dangerous than his rank typically prepared him for.
Varin stood up from where he'd been sitting on the cot, his body responding sluggishly to the command despite the fact that he'd been moving almost constantly since Leif had left. The exhaustion was starting to catch up with him, that bone-deep weariness that came from extended physical activity combined with mental stress and the weight of seastone constantly draining his power. But he followed the Marine without protest, stepping out of the cell and into the corridor beyond.
The walk through Enies Lobby was extensive and deliberately labyrinthine in its design. They climbed stairs, descended other stairs, moved through corridors that all looked remarkably similar to each other in a way that suggested the architecture was designed to confuse rather than clarify. But as they climbed higher and higher, Varin began to understand the geography of the fortress better. They were moving toward the tallest tower, the structure that rose above everything else in the compound like a beacon or a monument to something Varin couldn't quite identify.
The Marine remained silent throughout most of the journey, clearly either uninterested in conversation or intimidated by the sheer presence of someone who stood three feet taller than him and carried scars that told stories of violence and survival. Every so often, they'd pass other Marines or fortress personnel, and Varin would catch the way people's eyes tracked his movement, the way they seemed to recognize him even without introduction.
The tower stairs were narrow and seemed to go on forever, ascending in a tight spiral that forced Varin to duck his head to avoid the ceiling in places. His legs were already sore from hours of pacing, and the climb was testing what remained of his physical endurance despite the seastone's dampening effect. But he kept moving, driven forward by the knowledge that Robin was somewhere at the end of this journey, that he was going to actually see her and confirm that she was alive and relatively intact.
When they finally reached the top of the tower, the view was breathtaking in a way that Varin hadn't anticipated. The entire fortress spread out below them, the ocean visible in the distance, and the structure itself seemed impossibly high now that he was standing at its peak. The cell they entered was surprisingly well-appointed for a prisoner's quarters, suggesting that Robin had been treated with considerably more respect than Varin's basement holding area warranted.
She was standing by the window when they entered, her back to the door, her shoulders noticeably tense. When she turned to face them, Varin could see the toll the confinement had taken on her. Her eyes were strained, rimmed slightly darker than usual, and her expression carried a wariness that went beyond her normal analytical distance. There was a tremor in her hands that she tried to hide by clasping them together, and her jaw was tight in a way that suggested she'd been grinding her teeth during her imprisonment.
"I see they finally decided to reunite us," Robin said, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of exhaustion. She looked away from Varin briefly, as if the act of meeting his eyes required more energy than she currently had. "I was beginning to wonder if they'd simply decided to keep us separated indefinitely."
"Leif said you wanted to see each other," the Marine said awkwardly, clearly uncertain about the protocol for this situation. "I'll be outside if you need anything. You have thirty minutes."
He left before either of them could respond, closing the door behind him and presumably taking up a position in the corridor. The sound of his footsteps fading suggested they had actual privacy for the first time.
Varin looked at Robin and saw that she was relatively unharmed in terms of visible injury, but the confinement had affected her in ways that went beyond physical marks. There were no bruises, no signs of interrogation or mistreatment beyond the simple fact of her imprisonment. But the way her hands trembled slightly, the way she kept glancing back toward the window like she needed to confirm the outside world still existed, the exhaustion written across her face told him enough.
"They haven't hurt you," he said, and it wasn't quite a question.
"No," Robin confirmed, moving to sit in one of the chairs with movements that suggested her body was heavier than it should be. "They've been remarkably civil about the entire situation, actually. Leif has been very clear that I'm not to be subjected to interrogation or coercion…yet anyway."
Varin crossed the room and reached out to gently turn her wrist, examining her hands for marks or signs of restraint. Her skin was unmarked, but he could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her body had become wound tight from confinement. He moved his attention to her arms, checking beneath her sleeves for any evidence of mistreatment, and found nothing but the same exhaustion that was etched into her face.
"The other ones in CP9," Varin said quietly as he worked, his accent cutting through the quiet of the tower room. "The ones besides Leif. Do you know how many?"
"At least six that I've seen," Robin replied, watching him check her over with an expression that suggested she understood what he was really asking. "They take shifts. Leif seems to be the highest-ranking among them, or at least second highest; there's another one, I've only seen him through the window. His aura reminds me of you, but different. The others I've not seen in a while; I assume they are back on Water Seven."
Varin moved to check her neck, running his fingers along her throat to confirm there were no marks, no signs of violence or coercion. She held still while he did this, allowing him the examination without comment or protest.
"CP9," Robin continued, her voice steady despite the tremor Varin could still feel in her body. "Do….You know what they are?"
"Aye, I know what they are," Varin said, his voice hard with the kind of certainty that came from understanding exactly what organization his brother had joined. "They're the ones who do the dirty work. The ones who operate in the shadows when the regular military structure isn't enough. Leif's good at that kind of work. Makes sense he would be with his abilities."
He moved his hands to her shoulders, checking beneath her clothing carefully and respectfully, looking for any evidence of restraint marks or abuse. Finding nothing but the tension that came from confinement, he stepped back and looked at her directly. "How are you holding up, truly?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. "Not the diplomatic answer. The actual truth, Robin."
Robin was quiet for a long moment, and when she finally answered, there was no pretense in her voice. "I'm terrified," she said simply. "Im terrified of dying right as my life seems to finally be going somewhere; I'm terrified that the others will die because of me as well. That you'll die because of me."
Varin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he moved back to the window and looked out at the fortress below, at the structures and the walls and the machinery of government power that surrounded them. Others might have offered sweet lies to soften reality, but if Varin was anything, he was direct.
"If and when I die, Robin, it ain't gonna be cuz of you, I promise you that," he said flatly, his voice carrying no inflection, no attempt to soften the reality of his situation. "This woulda happened to me eventually; just bad luck they got us both, suppose Akoiji was an omen for both of us."
Robin's hands clenched into fists, and for a moment Varin saw the fear break through her composure entirely. "You don't know that for certain," she said, though her voice suggested she did know it, had probably known it from the moment Leif had taken custody of him in Water 7.
"Aye, I do," Varin replied, turning back to face her. "I've known my whole life that this was the endgame. Lief is oddly civil, more than I would be if the roles were switched, might have something to do with that kid of his runnin' around, but since the moment I stepped off that ice, I was bein' hunted. Whether or not they knew I was alive, it was gonna happen eventually..."
"The others won't let that happen," Robin said, but even as she spoke, Varin could hear the doubt in her voice, the understanding that no matter how strong her crew was, they were sailing directly into a fortress built specifically to withstand assault.
"They're going to try," Varin agreed. "And they're probably going to cause absolute chaos while they're doing it… but these opponents are different than even that god, they're trained not to overestimate, and always go for the kill, and they are the best of the best to be in Cipher Pol…But bah, enough about me and my woes," Varin said, forcefully switching subjects. "Why are you so out of sorts, Robin? That's what I want to know."
It was odd for Robin to break like this, to show the kind of vulnerability that usually took something catastrophic to crack open. Varin had seen it once before, when Crocodile had finally betrayed her completely, and she'd realized everything she'd worked for was collapsing around her. And then Kuzan had been close to that breaking point, especially considering Robin hadn't spoken for nearly a day after she'd been defrosted from his ice. She seemed to bounce back after a bit, but the damage had been visible. Varin had made sure the crew understood what that meant, and had spent the better part of their time since leaving Long Ring Long Land forcing them to train, using the admiral as fuel to push them harder, faster, stronger. Because if they were going to survive what was coming, they needed to be better than they'd ever been before. But this was different. This wasn't the usual composure that Robin maintained. This was something deeper, something that suggested the fear went beyond her own situation.
"Do you know about Ohara?" Robin asked quietly, her eyes fixed on something beyond the tower window, beyond the fortress, toward a memory that existed somewhere in the past.
Varin made a low sound of agreement, a rumble that came from deep in his chest. He didn't make her say more. He'd heard the stories from his own family. But as the silence stretched between them, as Robin continued to stare out the window with that look of someone seeing something that wasn't actually there, understanding crystallized in Varin's mind with the kind of sudden force that made his breath catch.
The Buster Call. The government's ultimate weapon. A fleet of battleships capable of destroying an entire island in a matter of minutes. Wiping it from the map so completely that nothing remained but memories and scars. The very weapon that had been used against Ohara, that had erased Robin's entire world from existence.
And every commander of Cipher Pol had access to one. The realization hit Varin like a physical blow, and suddenly everything about Robin's behavior crystallized into a clarity that was almost painful in its intensity. She wasn't afraid because she was imprisoned. She wasn't afraid because of what might happen to her personally. She was afraid because she understood exactly what kind of leverage the government had over her, what kind of threat hung over her crew and everyone they cared about.
Stay compliant. Cooperate. Don't cause trouble. Because if you do, if you step out of line, if your friends try anything foolish, the Buster Call activates and Water 7 ceases to exist, just like Ohara. Just like it had happened before, it could happen again; it would happen without hesitation if she gave them reason to pull the trigger.
"That's why you're so civil," Varin said quietly, understanding flooding through him now.
Robin's silence was confirmation enough. "Not directly," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Commander Spandam made sure I understood the capabilities of Cipher Pol's assets. He was very thorough in his explanation. Very... informative about what kinds of power the government wielded and how quickly they could be deployed."
It was brilliant, in a horrifying way. It was the kind of calculated leverage that turned a prisoner into a hostage not of her own circumstances but of everyone else's survival. Robin would cooperate not for herself but for Luffy, for Sanji, for everyone on that ship. Because the cost of her resistance would be paid by people who had nothing to do with this situation.
"You know, not for the first time I've wondered how this would go if I were still a Marine," Varin said after a minute of silence, his voice carrying a thoughtful quality that suggested he was working through something that had been sitting in the back of his mind for longer than just this moment. "Would I be fighting you lot right now? Maybe in this case holding the Buster Call and keeping ya prisoner, making sure you cooperated because I understood exactly what leverage the government had over people like you."
Robin turned from the window to look at him, her expression shifting slightly as she processed what he was saying. "Would you have?" she asked quietly. "If you were still a Marine, if you hadn't been exiled, do you think you would have ended up in Cipher Pol as Leif did?"
"Cipher Pol? No, probably not, but the point stands," Varin replied, moving to lean against the wall near the window. He was quiet for a moment, clearly running through the implications of that alternate timeline in his head. "I'd be good at it, I bet. I think. The kind of work Cipher Pol does, it doesn't require mercy or hesitation. It requires precision and the ability to make hard choices and live with them afterward. Those are things I'm naturally suited for."
"On that topic... since I just more or less told you my tragic backstory, if we really are to die soon, why don't you tell me yours?" Robin said slowly, her voice carrying discomfort that came from someone who wasn't accustomed to asking personal questions. But she let curiosity win out in the end, and the question hung in the air between them.
Varin's eyes narrowed in thought, and for a few minutes nothing was said, leaving only the sound of the wind outside the window to fill the gap. The silence stretched long enough that it became comfortable, the kind of quiet that came when two people understood enough about pain that they didn't need to rush through the uncomfortable parts of conversation.
"You don't have to," Robin eventually said, her voice carrying that particular gentleness that only came from someone who understood the weight of carrying trauma in silence. "But trust me, I know that type of trauma can leech and leech. Until you're not even sure what's left of the person you were. I mean, look at me…I've played so many roles over the years; I'm still not sure which is the real me sometimes."
Varin was quiet for a long moment, working through something internally that was clearly difficult to articulate. "You have any siblings, Robin? Or had, I suppose," he asked, his voice a shade darker than usual.
"No, I was an only child. Why?" Robin asked, though something in her expression suggested she was beginning to understand where this was heading.
"I have, or had, two siblings. Now just one," Varin sighed. "I'll be honest, not a story I ever wanted to tell. But you got a point, plus it won't matter if we're both dead soon. That said, if we survive this, or if Luffy and the others save our sorry asses," he looked Robin directly in the eyes, "do not tell them this. Vivi told you lot about the incident with Enel against her own word, and I won't be telling her this, or anything else for that exact reason. A royal who ain't keeping to her word isn't uncommon, but whether it helped or not, it wasn't her place to tell you."
Robin was quiet, clearly weighing what he'd said and understanding the position he'd put himself in by making that request. When she finally spoke, her voice carried acknowledgment mixed with something that looked like gentle disagreement. "I understand your point," she said carefully. "And I respect the boundary you're setting. But Varin, you should cut her some slack for that one. Yes, she broke your confidence, and that wasn't her right. But I'm fairly certain the only reason you're not wallowing in the depths of whatever dark place you were in after Skypiea is because of her broken word." Varin's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't interrupt her. "She shouldn't have told us," Robin continued. "I'm not arguing that point. But she told us because she was worried about you, because she could see you destroying yourself from the inside out, and she cared enough to risk your anger by forcing the issue. That's not something I think you should discount entirely, even if her method was questionable."
Varin looked away, back toward the window and the fortress below, processing what Robin had said with the kind of internal struggle that suggested he knew she was right but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Aye," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I know she meant well. Doesn't make it less complicated, though, does it?"
"No," Robin agreed. "It doesn't. But complicated doesn't mean wrong."
"Depends on the context and the person; it feels wrong to me, and my... let's say morals. But I won't argue it anymore." he took a deep breath and closed his eyes before turning his head slightly to look past Robin. "I'm the middle child. Astrid the oldest, and our little sister... Runa Styrnvald." Robin stayed silent, but she did nod along, understanding that this was not a time for interruption.
"I was... twelve, I think, when it happened. The village was oddly empty for once. Most of the adults normally around had taken the older kids, like Astrid, on a special trip. Once a year, a hunting trip for a beast that lived deep inland, a powerful one at that. I was the eldest remaining. The others were single digits. I would've gone with the party, but I volunteered to stay with the others, mainly Runa." A small smile graced Varin's face, one of genuine fondness that seemed to soften his usually harsh features.
"Runa was an angel, or a saint. Your pick, to be honest. She could've talked Luffy into being a Marine, and, if given the chance, my entire family to turn from the Marines. Not that she would've minded you, but she was... convincing. Not in the conniving, sneaky sense. She just had that effect, like she was so untouched by the world and could spread it onto you. On more than one occasion, she would use that little gift of hers to talk her way into more sweets, extra dessert. Or both at the same time, and she succeeded every time, no matter the person." Varin laughed, and it came out gruffer than it should have been, but it was real nonetheless, carrying the weight of memories that were both precious and impossible to hold onto.
"Well, the others fucked up while they were out. Caused an avalanche on one of the mountain peaks and let loose a horde of... well, we called them Jotkin. Stands for jottun kin, or giant kin in normal tongue. We weren't... they are strong, very, very strong. I don't know why, but Devil Fruits don't work on them. It's like they are made of seastone, or like a diluted version. I could claw them, and they would stay out, but abilities, like let's say Kuzan's ice, wouldn't stick to them as well. But on top of it, they are sturdy. Like the jotuns of old. The rest of the kids were safe inside. I had them doing some drills. But Runa had snuck off." Varin took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut as if the force of his will could change what came next.
"Stupid kid wanted to raid the latest shipment of fruit. She always had a sweet spot for apples," his voice dropped until it was barely audible. The avalanche opened a cave they lived in. Usually, they stayed deeper underground. The nearest exit was on the other side of the island. The avalanche opened one right next to the village. The noise woke them, and they rushed out. Angry and hungry."
"Varin..." Robin said, her voice barely a whisper, because she could see where this was going, could read the trajectory of a story that was heading toward something irreversible.
Varin's eyes snapped open, and Robin could see the pain in his eyes, made all the worse by how his voice broke for but a fraction of a second as he continued.
"I watched as the club caved her skull in, Robin. It's all I could do. All I could fucking do was watch as the most innocent person to ever grace this earth was clubbed to death like a common beast, simply because the older kids needed to show off," he said, and his voice carried the weight of years spent carrying that moment inside himself. He traced the nastiest scar across his torso with one finger, a long, vicious line that spoke to encounters with things that had tried to tear him apart. And then he began absentmindedly tracing the others. "I guess being too weak and too stupid has always been a part of me," he finished, his voice hollow in a way that suggested this belief had calcified into something fundamental to his understanding of himself.
Robin stepped forward carefully, moving with deliberate slowness so as not to startle Varin. She didn't touch him, but she stood close enough that he could feel her presence.
"Don't," Varin growled before his mouth even opened. His voice was laced with genuine threat. "Don't give that there was nothing you could have done bullshit."
Robin stopped and sighed deeply. "Then why exactly did you get exiled? Because to me that doesn't sound like it was your fault, and realistically, only one death out of all of that is rather... low."
"That's because I didn't tell you who Runa was, or rather, who she ate," Varin growled out tiredly, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who'd been carrying this particular secret for far too long. "Runa got her fruit early. A rare case, even for the so-called prodigies of our family. One day she woke up, and it was calling to her. The Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Idun. The goddess of youth. Runa's hair was constantly growing golden apples that theoretically could have kept us immortal."
His voice dropped to a whisper, and Robin could hear the strain in it once more. "The family was not happy about that. They needed someone to blame, and I had oh so generously volunteered for that position."
Robin processed this information slowly, understanding the layers beneath what Varin was saying. It wasn't just that Runa had died. It was what Runa represented. A sister, yes, but also the living embodiment of immortality, a fruit that most families would have moved mountains to protect. The Styrnvalds hadn't just lost a child. They'd lost something they saw as transformative, as potentially world-altering.
"The family loved her," Varin continued, his voice carrying a bitterness that came from understanding something far more complicated than simple cruelty. "Don't get me wrong. They did. She was beautiful and kind and everything they weren't. But she was also... valuable. Invaluably so. And when those Jotkin crushed her skull, they didn't just lose their youngest. They lost the chance at something they'd been dreaming about for generations."
Robin could hear the distinction he was making, the way he wasn't trying to paint his family as heartless monsters but rather as people caught between genuine grief and the loss of something that had represented hope for their entire bloodline. That made it worse in some ways, because grief mixed with resentment and blame was far more destructive than simple anger.
"So they blamed you," Robin said quietly, understanding the logic of it even as she understood how fundamentally unfair it was.
"I volunteered to stay behind," Varin said, and there was no flexibility in his voice now, no room for argument or alternative interpretation. "I chose to watch her instead of going on the hunt. I chose to let her sneak off to get fruit. And when the Jotkin came, I wasn't strong enough to kill them all before they reached her. Weak. Stupid. Unprepared. All the things the family values say you should never be."
He finally turned to look at Robin directly. "They didn't exile me out of hatred, well, not officially. They exiled me because I was a reminder of their failure. I was the one who volunteered. I was the one responsible. And I failed them in the most catastrophic way possible. Not just as a brother, but as a guardian of something irreplaceable."
Robin stood there, processing the weight of that, understanding now why Varin carried such contempt for his own weakness, why he pushed himself so relentlessly, why the idea of being unable to protect someone could break him in ways that physical injury never could.
"They made you the villain of your own sister's death," she said finally, her voice carrying something sharp underneath the sadness. "Even though you were a child. Even though there was nothing you could have done."
"Picture of health it turned me into," Varin snorted, leaning back, and Robin could see he was doing his very best to brush off the moment they had just had and return to normal. "Fuck, they were right to exile me. I mean, look at what I've done since. You wouldn't be here if I'd just done what I'm best at and killed those agents on Water 7. Hell, instead of trying to escape or do anything useful last night, I spent it wallowing in stupidity."
Robin was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice carried a weight that suggested she wasn't going to let him dismiss what had just happened so easily.
"It makes you remarkably human," she said simply. "For a wolfman who spent years isolated and starved, which honestly would have turned a lesser man actually feral."
Varin looked at her, clearly not expecting that response. "What?"
"You heard me," Robin continued, her expression serious in a way that suggested she was being deliberate with her words. "Do you understand how rare that is? Most people who go through what you went through, who experience that level of trauma and deprivation, they come out of it broken in ways that can't be fixed. They lose their capacity for guilt, for concern for others, for anything beyond their own survival. They become feral, literally and figuratively."
She moved closer, her voice steady. "But you didn't. You spent years on an iceberg, starving, isolated, with a wolf consciousness that probably wanted nothing more than to consume everything around it. And you still maintained enough of your humanity to feel guilty about a girl you couldn't save when you were twelve years old. You still cared enough to keep yourself from becoming the monster your family probably expected you to be."
"That's not strength, Robin," Varin said, his voice flat. "That's weakness. I should have killed those agents. I should have—"
"You should have what?" Robin interrupted, her tone sharp enough to cut through his self-flagellation. "You should have abandoned me to an unknown fate? You should have gotten everyone caught in the crossfire? You should have given Leif the exact excuse he was waiting for to prove that everything your family believed about you was true?"
She stood there, looking at him with an intensity that suggested she wasn't going to back down on this. "You made a choice in that moment that prioritized the safety of people you care about over your own freedom. That's not stupid. That's not weakness. That's the opposite of what a feral, broken person would do."
Varin was quiet, his jaw working as he processed what she was saying, clearly fighting against the narrative he'd built for himself over years of exile and self-recrimination.
"Your family turned guilt into a weapon against you," Robin continued. "They made you believe that your inability to save Runa was a personal failing rather than the inevitable consequence of being a child facing circumstances no child should ever have to face. They blamed you for their grief, and then they blamed you for surviving it. And you've spent every year since proving to yourself that they were right, that you deserved the exile, that you're fundamentally broken."
She paused, letting that sink in. "But the fact that you're still in here, still feeling things, still caring about whether your crew lives or dies, still guilty about decisions you made to protect people... that's not weakness, Varin. That's proof that they didn't break you the way they tried to."
"Okay, let's say I buy into that bull," Varin said, his tone shifting into something grimmer. "Still doesn't change the fact I've done nothing but make bad decision after bad decision. Trust me, I spent a lot of time last night pondering over why I'm such a fuck up. I fought Crocodile in the desert, twice. The warlord with the fucking sand sand fruit. I charged Enel like a moron banking on luck and experience to save me. If the bastard didn't panic the moment I got my jaws into him, I'd be dead, and probably the rest of you. Every time something happens, I fight by myself, because I'm incapable of trusting the crew that saved my ass. I can't remember shit that's actually useful."
He pushed away from the wall and started pacing, his movements agitated in a way that was different from the emotional breakdown he'd just had. This was practical frustration, the kind that came from honest assessment of incompetence rather than trauma spiraling.
"I don't know the names of half the places we've been to," Varin continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone listing facts rather than wallowing in feelings. "Nami has to tell me three times where we're going before anything sticks in my head. I can navigate by smell and instinct, but ask me to remember which island had which supplies or what the terrain was like and I'm useless. Useless. Chopper's spent weeks trying to teach me basic first aid and I'm still shit at it. I can't cook, can't navigate by stars, can't read a fucking map without squinting at it like it's written in a language I've never seen."
He ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. "I can't even be trusted to grab water for Sanji without forgetting halfway there what I was supposed to be doing. The man asks me to get provisions and I come back with half of what was requested because my mind wandered to something else entirely. I'm the least useful person on that ship in literally every capacity except swinging violence around, and apparently that's not even reliable anymore since I keep making stupid decisions that get everyone into worse situations than they started in."
Robin watched him pace, understanding that this wasn't despair so much as it was brutal honesty delivered with the kind of certainty that came from years of self-examination. He wasn't looking for comfort. He was listing facts as he saw them.
"The only reason I'm not dead already is because Luffy and the others keep pulling my ass out of situations I shouldn't have survived," Varin continued. "They're stronger than me, smarter than me, more useful than me in every way that actually matters on a ship. So why am I the one making decisions? Why am I the one who thought it was a good idea to resist those agents in Water 7 when I could see the calculations running three steps ahead? Why do I keep putting them in danger when I'm demonstrably the weakest link on that entire crew?"
Robin laughed at that, a small snort that she quickly covered up with her hand. A small blush of embarrassment lighting up her pale face.
"Something funny, Nico Robin?" Varin snarled.
She took a moment to compose herself, ignoring his threat entirely. When she spoke, her voice carried something warmer underneath the observation, something that suggested she wasn't trying to prove a point so much as she was trying to make him actually listen.
"Yes, actually," she said, and there was amusement in her tone but also genuine affection. "I've spent a very long time reading people, and I'm good at it. You claim to be weak and dumb, but here's the thing. Conventional smarts aren't exactly your thing, that's true. But you spent your teenage years trapped on an iceberg with no contact. Of course your memory is scattered. Of course you have trouble with details that don't involve immediate threats. Your mind was trying to survive, not catalog ship routes, or which way to pull the mast."
She stepped closer, her expression serious but not unkind. "And that fruit of yours, the way it affects you. You know what that actually is? It's you being protective, even when it hurts you more in the end. Like a dog herding sheep, trying to keep everyone safe even when it costs you."
She paused, letting him process that before continuing. "You want to know something? You're the strongest one in this crew. By a fair bit, if I had to wager. Zoro's second now, since he's been practicing Haki like you taught him. And Luffy's in third, though that probably won't last long with how hard he's been trying to catch up to you and Zoro both."
"The weakest link is a funny saying," Varin sighed. "So what if I'm the strongest? Physically speaking. I got put into a situation, and decided to not use that strength."
"You keep circling back to that," Robin sighed, rubbing her temple. "Varin—"
"Varin what?" The larger man growled back. "If I'm circling, you keep giving me some half-assed excuse as to why it's not my fault. I'm stupid, but not—"
"No, I keep reminding you that you're human, you overgrown moron. So what if you made a bad decision? Learn from it, and make sure it doesn't happen again. My whole life was bad decisions, and I'm still here, so if anyone is stupid, it's me."
"For what? You're still alive so by all means those decisions were right—" Varin's shout was cut off as Robin's hand, less shackled than his due to the cuff around her ankle instead, came up backhanded across his left cheek.
"And we're still alive, so that means yours was too." Robin shouted back
Varin growled, the sound rumbling up from deep in his chest, and before Robin could even process what was happening, he slammed his head forward. His skull met hers in a collision that wasn't particularly gentle, and the impact sent her stumbling backward until she hit the stone floor with a solid thud that suggested it hurt more than she'd anticipated.
For a moment, there was silence. Robin lay on her back, clearly processing whether she'd just gotten into a physical altercation with her crewmate in a tower cell at Enies Lobby. Varin stood above her, his hand pressed to his forehead where their skulls had made contact, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and and anger.
"Did you just headbutt me?" Robin asked from the floor, her voice carrying genuine disbelief.
"Aye," Varin replied, sounding equally surprised by his own actions. "Are you going to hit me again?"
"I'm considering it," Robin said, but when she looked up at him, there was something in her expression that wasn't anger. It was the kind of look that came from someone who'd just realized they'd been arguing with a man so stubborn that the only way to get through to him was apparently physical violence. She started to laugh then, a small sound at first that grew into something more genuine, more real. It wasn't the controlled laugh she used in social situations or the dry amusement she deployed in conversation. This was raw and messy and carried the weight of everything they'd just talked about, everything they'd ever dealt with in their past.
Varin found himself laughing too, a gruff sound that came out like he wasn't entirely sure how to do it, like his body had forgotten what genuine amusement actually felt like. The two of them stood there, one on the floor and one standing over her, both laughing at the absolute absurdity of the situation. Prisoners in a tower at Enies Lobby, arguing about decisions and strength and weakness until it had escalated into a headbutt.
"This is insane," Robin said between laughs, her hand moving to her forehead where she could already feel a slight ache beginning to form.
"Completely mad," Varin agreed, helping her up from the floor with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the headbutt he'd just delivered. "I think we've both lost our minds."
"Probably," Robin said, accepting his help and standing up, still laughing. "But at least we're losing them together."
They stood there in the tower room, two people who'd just shared trauma and pain and frustration in equal measure, and found that sometimes the only response to all of that was laughter. The kind that seemed to lighten something in both of them, that suggested they'd moved through the worst of it and come out on the other side with their sanity more or less intact.
At least, until Varin spoke again.
"You'd make a hell of a Styrnvald, lass," he laughed again, the sound carrying genuine warmth for the first time since they'd arrived in this tower. "Stubborn as they come, sharp as a blade, and willing to headbutt someone twice your size to make a point. That's family material right there."
Robin turned to look at him, and there was amusement dancing in her eyes as she processed what he'd just said. "Fairly certain I could equate that to a proposal," she said, her tone dripping with dry humor. "I'm sure Vivi will be absolutely heartbroken."
"Ha!" Varin laughed, shaking his head. "You're not that lucky, lass."