"Come on, brother," the man in front of Varin said, "Must you fight every step of the way? This would be a lot less painful for both of us if you would just cooperate."
"I'm not lettin' ya kill me that easy," Varin spat, blood coming out and landing between him and the man before him with a wet splat that echoed across the empty platform they'd been escorted to. His jaw was already swelling from where he'd resisted during the initial restraint, his body still tense despite the overwhelming reality that he was completely trapped by circumstances and obligations he couldn't escape.
The man sighed, a sound that carried genuine exhaustion rather than frustration. He rubbed his head, his silver eyes closing for a moment in exasperation that suggested he'd done this same dance with Varin before, or at least anticipated that he would. When he opened them again, there was something almost pitying in his expression, like he was looking at someone who was fighting a battle they'd already lost without even realizing it.
"I've been nothing but kind to you," the man said, his voice steady. "The only reason you're injured is because you headbutted the steel walls of your cell on the train and dented them. Even with the sea stone weakening you, you still managed to leave marks that'll require repair. I promise you, Varin, you will not be harmed, and you will not be messed with until Astrid gets here or someone else from the family does. That's not a threat, that's a guarantee backed by my word."
The platform around them was empty except for the guards who'd escorted them down from the train, and Varin could see the massive structure with the name Enies Lobby painted on the front, looming in the distance like some kind of architectural nightmare designed specifically to house the things the World Government wanted forgotten. The fortress was built into the cliff face itself, stone and steel merging into a structure that was made to
Varin's breathing was still heavy, his body still coiled despite the acceptance that resistance was pointless in this moment. "Draugr," Varin muttered, in realization. "Leif, you joined Cipher Pol? That's a little much even for a Styrnvald. We don't like takin' orders from bastards who've never seen action as we have. Even the nobles don't order us around all that much."
Leif started walking toward the structure, gesturing for the guards to escort Varin along without further resistance. The fortress loomed larger as they approached, and the sheer scale of it became more apparent with every step they took across the platform toward the main entrance. "I had the abilities suited for the work," Leif said simply as they walked, his voice carrying a steady evenness
The drawbridge that led into the main fortress was massive, constructed from wood and metal. As they approached the structure and the bridge came into view, the guards began to slow their pace in preparation for crossing; movement erupted from the side of the bridge.
A young girl, no more than four or five years old, came running across the open ground with a reckless abandon. Her hair was dirty blonde like Leif's, and her features carried enough similarity to suggest the bloodline was strong in her. She was calling out as she ran, her voice carrying the kind of joy that came from seeing someone she clearly cared about after an absence. "Daddy! Daddy!" the girl shrieked, her small feet pounding against the stone as she bolted directly toward Leif with no consideration for the military operation that was currently in progress.
Two Marine officers came running after her. Their expressions carried frustration more than anger, like this was a routine occurrence that they'd learned to manage without escalation. "Lady Freydis, you can't just run off like that," one of the Marines called out, reaching for her arm in a gentle grip that was clearly designed to guide rather than restrain. "We discussed this. Your father is working; he doesn't have time for visits right now."
Leif's expression shifted for just a moment. He slowed his pace slightly, and Varin could see the calculation happening behind his eyes as he decided how to handle the situation. The girl, Freydis, managed to evade the Marine's grip, wriggling around before the Marine finally lost his grip, and she threw herself at Leif, who caught her without hesitation, lifting her even though he was supposed to be escorting a prisoner and maintaining operational security.
"It's fine," Leif said to the Marines, his voice filled with a softness that only a father could manage. "She can stay for a moment. We're not in any hurry to get inside."
The Marines exchanged glances with each other, clearly conflicted about whether they should be allowing this kind of personal interaction during what was clearly an official operation. But they didn't argue, just stood back and waited while Leif held the girl and listened to her chatter about her day, about something she'd learned, about how she'd been waiting for him to come back from whatever assignment had taken him away.
Varin watched the interaction quietly. He bit the inside of his lip as he looked at the girl before he spoke, his voice devoid of his prior bark and aggression. "How many?"
His words weren't exactly obvious in what he meant, but Leif seemed to get it immediately. He let his daughter, Freyida, calm down for a second, and rubbed her hair as he turned and looked at Varin out of the corner of his eye with an expression that was difficult to read. "Only four. You have only four nieces and nephews, brother, including my little Valkyrie here."
The girl, Freyida, giggled at the nickname, her small face lighting up at the acknowledgment. She didn't understand the weight of what was being discussed, didn't comprehend that she was part of a conversation that had implications extending far beyond the simple fact of her existence. She was just happy that her father was there and that he wasn't immediately dismissing her presence. Now that he was closer, Varin could see the little girl had her father's silver eyes and sharp features, and she was looking up at Varin with the kind of open curiosity that only children possessed, unburdened by the weight of family politics or the complications of Marine service.
"This is your Uncle Varin," Leif said to the girl, his voice carrying something that might have been affection or might have been resignation about the strange circumstances of family introductions. "He's…been away for a very long time."
"Are you a pirate?" Freyida asked, her question carrying the kind of innocent directness that made Varin want to laugh despite everything. "Papa said there are pirates everywhere now, and they're very dangerous, but you don't look dangerous right now. You look sad."
Varin found himself looking away from the girl, unable to maintain eye contact with someone so young and so perceptive about things he'd been trying very hard not to acknowledge about himself. The Marines were standing back respectfully, giving Leif space with his family even as they maintained their position as guards and handlers. "Aye, I'm a pirate," Varin replied, his accent thick again now that he was trying to navigate this strange new reality. "And you're right, I am sad. But that's not your problem to worry about, little lass."
Leif guided Freyida back toward the two Marines with the kind of gentle firmness that suggested this was a routine he'd established long ago. "Go with them. They'll take you back to your lessons, and I'll come find you before dinner. I promise."
"But I want to see Uncle Varin," Freyida protested, her small face screwing up in a way that suggested she was building toward a proper argument about the injustice of having to leave right when things were getting interesting.
"He's going to be here for a while," Leif said, and there was something in his tone that made it clear this was both a promise and a statement of fact about Varin's immediate future. "You'll have plenty of time to talk to him once things settle down. Go on now."
Freyida was led away reluctantly by the Marines, but not before looking back over her shoulder at Varin multiple times with that same open curiosity, like she was trying to memorize his face or understand something about him that wasn't immediately apparent. Once she was out of earshot, Leif turned his full attention back to Varin, and the moment of softness that had accompanied the interaction with his daughter seemed to fade back into the professional Marine operative.
The rest of the walk afterward was quiet. Varin could admit he was shocked, and there was another emotion he couldn't name, something that sat beneath the shock and made it harder to breathe. He had a niece. Not only that, he had three more around somewhere. He'd done his best to forget about his old family, had made peace with the fact that he'd been banished and his name likely scrubbed from history so that when the current generation died out, he'd be truly forgotten. But at the end of the day, that girl was still his blood, and she'd run across an open platform just to see her father, and her father had held her as if she mattered more than any mission or operation or commitment to the World Government.
The corridors of Enies Lobby were extensive and labyrinthine, designed in a way that suggested the architects had deliberately made navigation difficult for anyone who didn't know the layout. Leif moved through them with practiced ease, clearly familiar with every turn and passage, every security checkpoint where guards nodded and let them pass without question.
They reached a section that was clearly designated for holding, the architecture shifting into something more austere and functional. The cells were set into the stone itself, each one separated by thick iron bars and reinforced doors with locks that looked like they could withstand considerable pressure. The air down here was cooler and damper, carrying the weight of centuries of imprisonment and despair that had settled into the stone and refused to leave.
"You'll be in the secure wing," Leif said as they walked past rows of cells, some of which contained other prisoners who looked up with expressions ranging from curiosity to resignation. "High security, but not solitary. You'll have basic amenities, food brought to you regularly, and you won't be bothered unless Astrid arrives early or someone else from the family decides to visit before then."
The cell they stopped at was larger than most of the others, suggesting it had been prepared specifically for someone of Varin's size and status. There was a cot with actual bedding, a basin of water for washing, and even a small table with a chair. It was far more comfortable than Varin would have expected for a prisoner, which only reinforced the idea that this wasn't traditional imprisonment but rather something more complicated and personal.
"The seastone restraints will stay on," Leif continued as the guards opened the cell door. "Not to punish you, but to keep you safe. If you tried to escape and got caught outside this facility, things would get complicated quickly. The shackles protect you from making decisions you'd regret."
Varin stepped into the cell without resistance, his body moving with sluggish defiance, even though he knew he couldn't do anything. The weight of the seastone around his wrists was constant, a physical reminder of exactly what he'd lost the moment they'd caught him in Water 7. He looked around the space, taking in the details with the methodical assessment of someone who'd learned to gather information about his surroundings even when there was nowhere to go.
"You'll want to rest," Leif said from the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as he prepared to leave. "Astrid's going to want you in good condition when she arrives, and honestly, brother, you look like you've been through a war."
"I have," Varin replied quietly, his voice carrying the weight of everything that had happened since he was rescued. "Multiple times over."
Leif nodded slowly, and for a moment his professional demeanor cracked just enough to show something underneath that looked almost like sympathy. "Aye, I know you have," he said. "That's why you're going to stay down here until someone from the family takes you off my hands."
The cell door swung closed with a finality that seemed to echo through the entire fortress, and Varin heard the lock click into place loudly. He was alone again, and trapped, again, but with the wolf silenced by the steel, it didn't cause as ... aggressive a reaction as he normally would have had.
He immediately began pacing, wolf or not. He didn't exactly like being jailed. To top it all, he didn't know where Robin was; the other agents had taken her to a different train car, and Varin hadn't seen her since. He even felt the train stop for at least ten minutes before he and Leif stepped off.
He growled and cursed himself for thinking, slamming his head into the stone wall of his cell, leaving a splatter of blood on it. He wasn't a thinker; he had tried on Long Ring, kept to his wolf form for some stupid element of surprise, even though he could sense the weakness of that accursed crew.
His plan against Enel only worked because the bastard entered pain shock and couldn't use his fruit properly, meaning he survived by luck.
He nearly died fighting Crocodile because he let Vivi try her stupid peace tactic. And ended up fighting the warlord who could control sand, in the fucking desert. Every strong opponent Varin had fought lost simply to cockiness.
He was a bloody fucking moron; he should have just killed those godforsaken agents back on Water Seven, but since he used his defective brain, he and Robin were trapped, if she wasn't Dead already. And the chance of Luffy and the others getting ready to storm a Marine fortress head-on was somewhere between guaranteed and one hundred percent.
He slammed his head against the wall again, wondering if he could fix his head by doing this. "Bloody moron," he kept repeating as he rested his skull against the cool wall. He was a soldier, not a general, so why did he keep making decisions like one?
"Bloody moron," he growled again, quieter this time as he turned and slumped back against the wall. He wasn't brooding; even with his imminent death on the horizon, he wouldn't give Nami the satisfaction of brooding. He was just pissed at how stupid he was, and how even when the others tried to stop him, he ignored them. Everything had been fine, and it took five seconds for Varin to fuck it up. He didn't trust his crew, and because of that, two were captured. They'd survived a bloody god for Thor's sake, and he assumed some random-ass marine agents would be too much for them.
He didn't know how long he had been running those thoughts till a voice made him jump, his usual acute sense dampened severely by both thought and the seastonew/"Uhm... Uncle Varin," a soft voice came from outside the cell, causing Varin's eyes to snap open as he lifted his head from where it had been resting against the stone.
Freyida stood on the other side of the iron bars, still dressed in the same clothes from earlier but with her hair slightly disheveled like she'd recently woken from sleep. She was holding something wrapped in cloth in her small hands, and her expression carried a mixture of concern and determination that reminded Varin disturbingly of the way Vivi looked when she was about to do something foolish.
"You shouldn't be down here," Varin said immediately, his voice low and rough but carrying an edge of something that wasn't anger but rather something closer to concern. "It's night. You should be in your quarters where it's safe. If Leif finds out you came down here, he's going to be angry with you."
Freyida didn't seem particularly concerned about that possibility. She stepped closer to the bars, peering up at him with those silver eyes that marked her unmistakably as family. Then her expression shifted into something that looked like shock as she took in his appearance properly for the first time. The blood on his face from where he'd slammed his head against the wall was still there, dripping down his temple and mixing with the sweat that covered his skin. The cell wall behind him bore a dark smear where he'd made contact, evidence of his frustration written in blood across stone.
"You're hurt," Freyida said softly, her small voice carrying genuine distress at seeing an adult in such a state.
"I'm dangerous," Varin replied flatly, making no effort to soften the statement or make it less stark. He pushed himself away from the wall and stood up to his full height, letting her see exactly how large he was, how imposing his presence could be even through the bars of a cell. "I'm not someone you should be around, little one. I make bad decisions, and people get hurt because of them. You need to go back upstairs before someone realizes you're gone."
Freyida didn't move. Instead, she held up the cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands, and Varin could smell the bread and cheese from where he stood. She'd brought him food, had apparently made the effort to come down into the holding cells in the middle of the night just to bring him something to eat because she thought he looked hungry or hurt or both. "Papa said you were sad," Freyida said simply, her logic carrying the brutal honesty that only children could manage. "He said you were alone like me sometimes when he has to work. So I brought you food so you wouldn't be as sad."
Varin was silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he tried to figure out how to respond to a child who'd decided his emotional state was her responsibility. The blood was still drying on his face. The seastone was still heavy around his wrists. He was still trapped in a cell in a Marine fortress with no idea where Robin was or what was happening to the rest of his crew. And here was his niece, bringing him bread because her father had apparently mentioned that Varin was struggling with isolation.
"You can't be down here," Varin said, but his tone had shifted into something less absolute and more genuinely worried about her safety. "Truly, little one. This is a place for dangerous people. Your father wouldn't want you anywhere near this section of the fortress at night."
"You won't hurt me," Freyida said with the kind of absolute certainty that only someone too young to fully understand danger could possess. "You're sad, not mean. Papa explained the difference."
"Go back upstairs," he said with a sigh, his tone hardening enough to show he meant it. "Leave the food by the door if you want, but you cannot stay here."
Freyida stood there for a long moment, clearly processing whether she should listen to her uncle or continue her mission of comfort. Her small hands clutched the food bundle tighter, and Varin could see her thinking through the logic of what he'd said, weighing his request against her desire to help someone who was clearly hurting. "Promise you'll eat it," she said finally, holding the bundle through the bars of the cell. "So you're not sad and hungry at the same time."
Varin reached out and took the bundle from her small hands with deliberate care, making sure his massive fingers didn't frighten her with their size. The bread was still warm, which meant she'd either stolen it from the kitchens recently or had arranged for someone to help her acquire it. Either way, it was an act of genuine kindness that he didn't particularly deserve.
"I promise," he said, because lying to a child about something this simple felt like the one line he wasn't willing to cross, even now. "Thank you, Freyida. Now go back upstairs before someone notices you're gone."
She nodded slowly, clearly satisfied with his promise, and turned to walk back down the corridor. Varin watched her go, listened to the soft padding of her feet against the stone floor until the sound disappeared entirely. Only then did he look down at the food in his hands, at the bread and cheese that his niece had brought him in the middle of the night because she'd decided his sadness was something she could fix with basic sustenance and kindness.
He set the bundle on the small table and sat down on the cot, his mind still churning through everything that had happened, when footsteps echoed through the corridor again. But these footsteps were heavier, more purposeful, and they belonged to someone significantly larger than a six-year-old girl.
Leif emerged from the shadows of the holding cells, and Varin could see from his expression that he'd been there the entire time, listening to the exchange between uncle and niece. There was no anger on his face, no recrimination for Freyida having left her quarters without permission or for Varin having failed to throw her out physically. Instead, there was something more complicated, something that suggested Leif understood exactly what had just transpired and approved of it in some way.
"We both know your history when you're left alone with someone like her." Leif said, his voice carrying a tone that was different from how the others in the family said such things.
Varin could have responded with anger, but something in Leif's tone stopped him, something that suggested his brother wasn't saying this to wound him but rather to acknowledge that they both understood the weight of history and consequence. The way Leif had said it wasn't like how the others said it, wasn't loaded with the kind of venom that Astrid would have used or the disappointed resignation that the elders carried.
"I know," Varin said
Leif nodded slowly, and for a moment the two brothers simply looked at each other across the distance of the cell, understanding passing between them in the way it only could between people who shared blood and history and the complicated mess of family obligation. Leif moved closer to the bars, his expression still neutral but carrying something underneath that might have been sympathy or might have been resignation or might have been some combination of both.
"She shouldn't have come down here," Leif said, though his tone suggested he wasn't actually angry about it. "But I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now. She's stubborn, and she's good. I hope you appreciate the difference between those two things."
"I do," Varin replied.
Leif was quiet for a long moment, and then he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing back down the corridor in the same measured pace that had brought him there. He paused at the edge of where the shadows began to swallow the light from the cell block, and without turning around, he spoke one more time.
"Eat the bread," he said. "And try not to think too hard about things you can't control. That's never been your strong suit anyway."
Then he was gone, disappearing back into the darkness of Enies Lobby's corridors, leaving Varin alone once again with the food his niece had brought him and the weight of understanding exactly what his presence here meant for everyone involved.
The cell door remained locked. The seastone remained heavy around his wrists. And Varin sat in the darkness of his cell, eating bread that his niece had brought him, understanding with complete clarity that his story was moving toward its conclusion, and that everyone involved already knew how it was going to end.