The Hibiscus and the King

Chapter 1

Rouge stared down at the enormous man lying face down in the sand. She was wondering whether the man was dead when a slight groan snatched her from her reverie. Promptly dropping down, she attempted to flip the man on his back lest the sand interfere with his breathing. Naturally, the feat was near impossible for her slender form, but try she did. Right when her struggles seemed completely useless, the man moved.

That man was pissed. He had been taking on the vengeful mother of all hangovers whilst he laid in the sand and now some stupid animal had decided to start nuzzling him. Heavens forbid it attempted to hump him next, as some animals were prone to do. No, he would stop it before it could even think of the idea. Preparing to slaughter the beast, he rose his head, a fierce grin on his face, and saw… a woman? With a flower behind her right ear?

Her worry dissipated immediately, replaced with a new emotion ten times stronger-fear. That face-there was no doubt who he was, despite the slight layer of sand covering it. Rouge scrambled to her feet and ran past him with a fervor she'd not felt in years. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, a flurry of thoughts ran through her mind. Why? When? What do they want?

Upon sighting the small town, her eyes scanned the port for a ship. Despite there being no black flag in sight, she would not calm. They might have lowered their flag or anchored elsewhere. The town was but a small portion of the entire island.

She halted suddenly, catching her breath and contemplating what to do next. She could shout out a warning to all she saw, but that would only cause panic, maybe even a riot. As the panicked girl thought over other options, a familiar voice called out. "Rouge! What's got you in a tizzy? Everything okay?"

It was her boss, the owner of the apothecary. In her hectic state, she hadn't even realized where she was.

"I-I'm fine" Rouge said. "Really." The woman, Mabel, was obviously unconvinced, but dropped it nonetheless.

"So, what are you doing out so early? I wasn't expecting you for another hour!"

"I was, um…" she trailed off.

Thankfully, Mabel took charge of the conversation and steered it to Rouge's comfort zone: work. "How about you get in here and sort out the new shipment? I think you'll like it-there are even a few herbs from the Grand Line. Imagine that! If you finish quickly, I might even let you keep a few. Oh! You left your basket here yesterday… I could put the herbs in it. How does that sound?"

Rouge nodded, allowing Mabel's voice to envelop her. Feeling calmer, the woman dismissed the earlier events as paranoia. There was no way he was who she thought. The sand had probably obscured her vision and caused her imagination to run rampant. Once in the backroom, her mind at rest, she felt utterly aghast with herself. That poor man must have been so confused! Hopefully he was okay and not dying in the spot on the beach.

Sorting the herbs out, she slowly convinced herself that the man was perfectly fine and she had nothing to worry about. Really, at her twenty-eight years of age it was a wonder that she still saw fearful faces where there were none. Surely she should have outgrown that when she realized she knew everyone on the small island and everyone knew her. But then again, his face was unfamiliar. Perhaps he came on one of the newly arrived merchant ships. Should they meet again, Rouge concluded that she'd have to profusely apologize and, just maybe, ask why he was on the coastline.

Suddenly, the quiet woman took note of one lone bag of herbs at the bottom of the shipment crate. That fiend. Unbelievable. Mabel, that sly dog, had gotten Snowdonia Hawkweed-a rare plant whose medicinal properties, if any, were a mystery. It must've cost her a fortune just to get that small amount. She'd probably put up with the price so she could place it on display. Well, at least nobody could say the herbalist didn't have one of the best apothecaries in South Blue, if not all the Blues.

Rouge was truly grateful the woman had took her on as an apprentice, however grudgingly. She loved the work she did as an herbalist and could imagine no profession better. Whether it was sorting out new shipments or helping a customer find the herb for their ailments, her enjoyment never ceased. The hours whiled away and before she knew it, Mabel hurried her out the store, gently handing her the basket she'd left behind the previous day.

Walking down the streets, she kept a watchful eye out for the man but saw neither hide nor hair of him. While exiting the town, she rummaged through her basket and decided to get some wild basil from a patch that had grown recently. It would be a bit of a detour from her usual route, but that was no issue; walking was a pastime of hers.

A hop, skip, and a jump down the familiar pathways, the woman reached the patches. To her utmost horror, she saw that half the patch had been trampled. Unable to help herself, she burst into a tirade of muttered curses towards the being who had committed the crime which involved bestowing eternal foot pains and having whoever or whatever did it eat dirt.

Unbeknownst to her, a short distance away, the object of her anger watched bemusedly as she salvaged what she could into the basket next to her. The watcher, he, resolved to announce his presence by clearing his throat. The watched, she, froze and cursed her nonexistent instincts for not sensing the presence. Slowly, ever so minutely, she turned around to recognize the moustached figure she'd chanced upon that morning.

"You-!" The words no longer flowed, halted by the dawning realization that this man, if even that, was indeed who she'd thought.

The situation amused him. Before him stood the figure of his dreary morning, the woman with the flower. She had an ever-growing look of terror to her and her brown eyes darted nervously in a fashion akin to a trapped deer.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. His grin grew wider as he stared the frightened dame down, sure of her answer. The fear she emanated was enough to show she knew of his reputation. Well, to be fair, who didn't know who he was at this point?

"You-you… you're…" she stuttered. "Gold Roger."

Almost immediately, the atmosphere changed. If before was strained, now it was pure tension. The sharpest of swords couldn't cut it. The Pirate King's grin faltered and Rouge could see the irritation in his eyes.

Had she been wrong? No. There was simply no way. He was definitely Gold Roger, the king of pirates and only man to conquer all of the Grand Line. No amount of rationalization would convince her that he wasn't. Nonetheless, the man was irate.

"Damn the government… damn newspapers… unreliable journalists…" the man grumbled to himself. It really wasn't that hard to get his name right. Sure, the entire world knew who he was, but what did it matter if they didn't even know his name? Gol D. Roger-that was a respectable name but that one journalist just had to mess it up and mash the first two parts together. Well, it could have been worse. They could have dubbed him Gol Droger. That would have been an even worse nightmare.

So the man continued his mumbling, unaware of the effect his imposing self had on the woman before him. She wondered if she could escape while he remained in that distracted state. But then, what would happen if he caught her? He was a pirate, after all. And not just any pirate-the King of Pirates. She reasoned that he might do that if she stayed anyway. That rambling state from merely being named? Obviously he had some head issues.

Mustering all the courage possible, she hiked up her dress and darted through the trees, away from the infamous pirate and towards her beloved cottage. He shouted after her but she didn't hear. All she heard was the blood pounding in her ears and all she saw was what was ahead. Her hair snagged in branches and her clothes ripped, but nothing mattered to her but reaching home.

Reaching her destination, she scrambled in and slammed the door shut, locking it. Then she went around, locking the windows and yanking the curtains shut. She was taking no chances. Only after she finished did she realize that her basket was back at the basil patch. Rouge deemed it a lost cause and trudged to her bed, falling down into it, utterly exhausted. She felt in her hair for the familiar flower, a hibiscus, but found nothing. So that, too, was lost. Her eyes closed and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Many hours later, in the deep of the night, one man set a basket down on the doorstep of a lonely cottage by the cliff side. After some hesitation, he placed a hibiscus down as well.

A/N: Hi! Thanks for taking the time to read this far! So, this (egad) is my first story. If you spot any mistakes or have critique, please review or send a pm.