The island held its breath beneath banners of gold and torchlight. Four Celestial Dragons had arrived, each destined to claim two brides, and so ten women were gathered in the courtyard. They shimmered in gowns of pastel silk and jeweled crowns, their smiles brittle, their bodies trembling beneath the weight of expectation. To them, being chosen was not a burden but an honor—even if it meant a lifetime of chains unseen.

But you were not one of the willing.

(You are a straw hat and Luffy's twin sister. [This takes place after the egghead arc.] You love to be free. Your dream is actually to be free, so freedom is the core part of who you are. [You were captured, right before entering the island where the egghead arc took place. And Shamrock took an interesting view because well, you have a strong will and love are freedom. And you are just naturally pretty. And the people who kidnapped you have bleeding arms and missing fingers and the people who forced you to dress, you are bleeding and missing a finger and one person who dressed you is missing a hand yeah, you caused a lot of damage.]) Dragged forward with an iron clasp around your wrists and neck, you were no prize offered freely. You were forced into place, your presence nothing more than a number to make the count even. Where the others gleamed like ornaments, you stood in a black bell-sleeve dress, the fabric falling like midnight shadows around you. Your long raven hair spilled unbound down your back, a red lipstick that had the same color as blood and the measured steps of your two-inch black shoes against the stone floor carried a steadiness that chains could not silence. You were not an ornament, not an offering—you carried yourself as though you refused to break.

Then he came.

Saint Figarland Shamrock. Crimson-haired, commanding, his presence drew silence sharper than the edge of the saber at his side. His eyes swept across the women, cold, dispassionate, calculating. One by one, they lowered their heads, eager for his gaze, praying to be chosen.