The tavern smelled like heaven.
Or at least, that's what Elijah decided as the waitress set down his fourth plate of roasted fish. Heaven probably smelled like garlic butter if he was being honest. The place was called The Tipsy Gull, a name that made zero sense until you saw the taxidermied seabird mounted above the bar, its glass eyes forever locked in an expression of profound intoxication.
Law had led them here without a word after his stomach growled loud enough to scare a flock of actual seagulls off the dock. She'd simply turned on her heel and started walking, that massive sword resting on her shoulder like it weighed nothing, her crew falling into step behind her.
Elijah had followed because, well, food.
Now they sat in a corner booth that gave Law a clear view of every entrance and exit.
The polar bear, Bepo, had squeezed himself into the seat beside Law, his massive frame hunched down like he was trying to disappear into the wooden bench. Every few seconds, his round black eyes would dart toward Elijah and Duckworth, then away, then back again.
"I'm really sorry for earlier," Bepo mumbled around his bread. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. My apologies for existing in your general vicinity."
"You're fine, big guy." Elijah waved a chicken leg in his direction. "Seriously, best greeting we've had in days. The last person who met us tried to shoot us."
"Multiple times," Duckworth added.
"Multiple times! See? You're already beating the curve."
Bepo did not look comforted by this information.
Across the table, Law sat in perfect stillness. She'd ordered a single glass of red wine and hadn't touched the food menu. The wine sat in front of her, half-empty, the glass held loosely between fingers marked with the letters D-E-A-T-H. Her spotted fur hat cast shadows over her eyes, making her expression impossible to read.
She watched them eat.
No. She watched Elijah eat.
Elijah grinned and took an enormous bite of fish.
The thing was, he knew exactly how he looked right now. A man who'd spent two days rowing through the North Blue with nothing but seawater and optimism didn't eat politely. He ate like the food might vanish if he slowed down, like every bite was a victory stolen from the jaws of starvation itself.
Duckworth ate beside him with the focus of a soldier refueling between battles. Fast but not messy. He'd already finished one plate and was halfway through a second, his eyes never quite leaving the tavern's entrance.
"More ale for you, sir?"
The voice came from Elijah's left. He looked up to find the waitress, a girl maybe eighteen with freckles and a smile that suggested she found him more interesting than the drunk fishermen who usually occupied these tables.
"You're an angel sent from the heavens," Elijah said, giving her his best roguish grin. "An absolute lifesaver. I'm naming my firstborn after you."
The girl giggled, her cheeks flushing pink. "It's just ale, sir."
"Just ale? Just ale, she says!" Elijah clutched his chest like she'd wounded him. "This ale is the nectar of the gods! This ale has restored my faith in humanity! This ale is..."
"Going to his head," Duckworth muttered, "because his stomach's full for the first time in three days."
"Ignore my associate. He's allergic to joy."
The waitress laughed again and set down another plate of fried potatoes. "On the house," she whispered, winking at Elijah before hurrying off to help another table.
Law's wine glass touched her lips. A single sip. Her eyes tracked the waitress's departure, then returned to Elijah with something cold in their depths.
"Ahhh, that's the stuff!" Elijah leaned back, patting his stomach with genuine satisfaction. "You're a lifesaver, lady, really! We were one salty cracker away from seeing the pearly gates!"
Law said nothing.
The silence stretched. Bepo stopped nibbling his bread, his worried gaze bouncing between them. Duckworth continued eating, though his posture had shifted slightly, alert to the tension building in the air.
Finally, Law set her wine glass down. The soft click of glass against wood might as well have been a gunshot.
"The papers said you were captured, 'Quickdraw'." Her voice was flat, uninflected. "Marine Commodore. A ship called the Righteous Wrath. So why aren't you in a cage on your way to Impel Down?"
Duckworth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His grey eyes met hers without flinching.
"Because of him."
He jerked his thumb toward Elijah.
"And you? I assume you weren't on a Marine vessel for a pleasure cruise."
Elijah picked up a potato and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Pleasure cruise?" He swallowed, grinning. "Close. I was there because I'm a pirate."
"A pirate? Never heard of 'Elijah Sparrow'."
"WELL, JUST YOU WAIT!"
His fist slammed the table. Plates jumped. Mugs rattled. Every head in the tavern turned toward their corner booth.
"BECAUSE SOON, THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD IS GONNA KNOW MY NAME!" Elijah's voice filled the space like thunder, like a declaration of war, like a promise written in blood. "YOU'RE LOOKING AT THE NEXT KING OF THE PIRATES!"
WHACK.
Duckworth's hand connected with the back of Elijah's skull hard enough to make his teeth click together.
"What is wrong with you?" The bounty hunter's voice was low, dangerous. "We're surrounded by civilians. Are you trying to get a bounty put on us before we've even found a ship?"
Elijah rubbed his head, his grin not dimming in the slightest. "What? It's not like they're gonna snitch! Look at these happy, well-fed faces!"
He gestured expansively at the tavern. The other patrons had already returned to their drinks and conversations, apparently deciding that one more crazy pirate declaration wasn't worth their attention. Swallow Island saw plenty of strange characters pass through. Another lunatic with delusions of grandeur barely registered.
"Law," Bepo whispered urgently, tugging on Law's sleeve. "Should we be concerned? I'm feeling very concerned. My apologies for being concerned."
Law didn't respond to her crewmate. Her attention remained fixed on Elijah, that unreadable expression never wavering.
"King of the Pirates." She took another sip of wine, letting the words hang in the air like an accusation. "A lofty goal for a boy who can't even navigate a rowboat."
Duckworth snorted. "She's got you there."
"Whose side are you on?"
"Whichever side has better judgment."
Law set her glass down again. When she spoke, the sarcasm had drained from her voice. What remained was cold. Serious. A warning delivered from somewhere deep and scarred.
"You think a big mouth and a flashy Devil Fruit are enough? The Grand Line is a graveyard for boys with big dreams. It's full of real monsters who would eat you alive and pick their teeth with your bones. You should stop spreading such nonsense before one of them hears you."
Elijah stopped smiling.
Not all at once. The expression faded like a sunset, that charming grin retreating to reveal something else beneath. Something older. Hungrier.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his purple eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made Bepo whimper softly.
"It's not nonsense."
The glowing red rings in his eyes seemed brighter now, pulsing faintly in the dim tavern light. Law found herself unable to look away, caught in that impossible gaze like a surgeon suddenly finding themselves on the operating table.
He meant it.
Every word. Every syllable. He believed it so completely that the belief itself became a kind of gravity, pulling everything around him into its orbit.
"Anyway." The tension broke as quickly as it had formed. "We never got your name."
Law blinked. The question had caught her off-guard, a simple social nicety deployed like a knife to the ribs.
"...Law."
"Law." He savored the name, rolling it across his tongue like he was tasting it. "Alright, Law. You're very quick to tear down my dream."
He reached for his mug but didn't drink. His fingers traced the rim, a casual gesture that somehow commanded attention.
"So what about yours?"
Law's expression flickered. Just for an instant, so fast that anyone not watching closely would have missed it entirely.
"That fire in your eyes," Elijah continued, his voice dropping. "It's not just for show. It has to be walking one of the roads."
He leaned closer. The space between them shrank to something intimate, something private despite the crowded tavern surrounding them. His voice became a whisper meant for her ears alone.
"Wealth? Fame? Or Power?"
Law felt her heart stutter.
There was a fire in her eyes. A burning that had kept her alive through the white hell of Flevance, through the manipulations of the Donquixote Family, through Corazon's death and all the empty years that followed.
Revenge.
Doflamingo's smiling face swam before her vision. Pink feathers. That laugh. The gunshot that had ended everything she loved.
"I don't dream." Her voice came out steady, betraying nothing of the storm raging beneath her surface. "Dreams are for children."
"Liar."
Elijah's grin widened. He leaned back, creating distance again, but his eyes never left hers.
"That's fine though. Everyone lies about the things that matter most." He picked up his mug and drained the last of his ale in one long swallow. "But you know what? I think you're walking the same road I am."
"And what road is that?"
"All of them."
The answer shouldn't have affected her. It was arrogant, presumptuous, the ravings of a delusional boy playing at being a pirate king.
But the way he said it.
Like he knew her. Like he'd seen past every wall she'd built, every mask she wore, straight down to the scarred and raging core of who she truly was.
"You're insane," Law said finally.
"Probably." Elijah shrugged, completely unbothered by the assessment. "But you know what? Insane people are the only ones who change the world. Everyone else just gets swept along for the ride."
He stood, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan.
"Now then! As much as I've enjoyed this lovely interrogation, my first mate and I need to find somewhere to sleep that isn't a rowboat. You wouldn't happen to know anywhere cheap, would you?"
Law stared at him.
Bepo stared at him.
Duckworth rubbed his temples like he was developing a migraine.
"You're asking me for help." Law's voice was flat with disbelief. "After all that."
"Why not? You've already fed us." Elijah grinned down at her, that infuriating, magnetic smile that made it impossible to tell if he was a genius or an idiot. "Might as well complete the hospitality package."
"I didn't feed you. The tavern fed you."
"Same difference."
"It's really not."
"Details, details."
She should say no. She should tell these lunatics to figure it out themselves and walk away from this disaster waiting to happen.
But.
That fire in his eyes.
That absolute, unshakeable conviction.
She hadn't seen anything like it since Corazon. Since the man who'd died to save her from her own despair.
"There's an inn three streets east," she heard herself say. "The Sea Breeze. Tell them Wolf sent you. They'll give you a discount."
Elijah's grin somehow grew even wider.
"See? I knew you were a softie under all that murderous intent."
"Call me a softie again and I'll rearrange your organs."
"That a promise?"
Law stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the wooden floor. She grabbed Bepo's arm and hauled the apologetic bear to his feet.
"We're leaving."
"But the bread," Bepo protested weakly.
"Now."
She stalked toward the door without looking back, her spotted hat bobbing with each step, Kikoku's weight on her shoulder feeling heavier than usual.
Behind her, she heard Elijah's voice.
"Same time tomorrow, Law? I'll buy the wine!"
Wealth. Fame. Power.
All three roads.
What kind of madman tried to walk them all at once?
The same kind, a traitorous voice whispered, that becomes a king.