Summary: Being reborn in a chaotic fantasy world of superhuman pirates isn't quite as terrifying as being reborn the daughter of a heartless, gluttonous cannibal. [OC, AU]
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631753?view_full_work=true#main
Word count:60k
Chapters:13
Chapter 1: our useless tears red
Chapter Text
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Her first memory goes something like this:
Darkness. Then, light.
"The child is born. I'm done with you."
"... monster. I don't care, our deal is over now. Do with it what you will."
A shuffling sound, silken sheets sliding to the ground. Slight discomfort, being set down on a hard, rough surface. She squirms in confusion, a plaintive wail instinctively rising unbidden to her infant throat. But there is never a chance for her to scream; her voice dies promptly on her tongue, for there is a sudden chill that settles across the room.
She shivers.
"Indeed, our deal is over now."
The stillness of the air is suffocating in the three heartbeats of silence that follows.
"What… what are you… Linlin? Linlin, stop! I- Charlotte! The fuck are you… stop, stop, STOAAAAAARGHHHHH–"
A bloodcurling scream.
Then, red.
.
.
Charlotte Madeleine is born the twenty-sixth daughter of Big Mom. This is a lie. She is not a child, nor is she Charlotte Linlin's daughter.
… Except she is.
Except somehow, inconceivably, impossibly –she is. She is.
Her name is Charlotte Madeleine, and she is Big Mom's fifty-sixth child. Her first memory in this strange new world is of her mother devouring her father alive.
.
.
(In the years to come, Madeleine's rise to infamy is marked by the blood and carnage that is left in her wake. Out of all of Charlotte Linlin's children, it's Madeleine who gains a reputation for being the cruelest; ruthless and pragmatic, unquestioningly obedient to her mother's every order.
There is a reason for that.)
.
.
In her previous life, she was just a quiet bookworm. Office work, coffee runs. Life was simple, and all her small troubles were balanced out by small joys, day after day after day. Rinse and repeat. Monotonous, perhaps, but she was satisfied with the simplicity.
This is no longer the case.
Madeleine might not remember much about the fantastical storyline of a not-so-fictional world, but given that the very first thing she had seen in this world was her own mother ripping apart her father's limbs before reaching up and–
…
Big Mom is a monster. This is fact. Her children all respect her to varying degrees, but they are the same in their shared fear of their monstrous mother, Madeleine most of all.
She spends every waking day in terror, and every sleepless night wondering if she'll live to see the next day.
(There is the blood of a monster that runs in her veins. Madness. She idly wonders how long it will take before she finally snaps.
It won't be long.)
.
.
Madeleine is a quiet child, withdrawn and sullen, all jagged edges and tightly-drawn lips. It comes as no surprise that the girl is not very well-liked by the siblings her age, who can't fathom why she is always so grim and solemn all the time. A few of them are persistent in their efforts to befriend her because they are family, but Madeleine couldn't care less about forming any sort of meaningful bonds with them. How can they possibly be so oblivious, be so blind?
Mama just finds it amusing.
"Maybe I should've named you Lemon," the woman likes to joke from time to time, lips curving up and widening in a slow, slow smile. "Hmm, now there's a good name! I'll save it for one of your future sisters."
"… Of course, Mama."
Madeleine doesn't dare to say anything even remotely contrary to her mother's words. She does not realize it at the time, but this is just the tip of the iceberg.
.
.
All of Big Mom's children are put through basic training, to evaluate their potential and discover any unique talents. The woman laughs a full-bellied laugh when Madeleine far outstrips her siblings and shatters the learning curve like glass. This does not endear her to her siblings, but she doesn't care.
The other children approach their lessons with playfulness and curiosity. Madeleine approaches it with fear and desperation, knowing that every extra little tidbit might be what she needs to survive in this hellish world.
Her nightmares are still filled with the scorching burn of her father's blood and the cold gleam of her mother's teeth.
.
.
Sometimes, the younger children of the Charlotte Family like to throw tantrums. Complain. Sometimes, they'll run up to Mama saying, "So-and-so took my toys and won't let me play with them!" And Mama will listen to them indulgently, pat them on the head and tell them that they'd just need to be a little faster, a little smarter, a little stronger in protecting what belongs to them, right?
Right.
Every time Madeleine sees this, it never fails to make chills run down her spine. Because the way Mama pats her children is exactly the same as how a man might stroke a favored pet for performing an interesting trick.
… It's almost sad, how her children gradually learn to fight and compete amongst themselves, trying to outdo each other for their mother's attentions. To earn her favor, her approval.
(By this point, Madeleine has some seventy-odd siblings, and she's already long given up on trying to keep track of them all. It's not like she's on particularly good terms with any of them, anyways. They're either too old and too busy or too young and too jealous.)
Unlike her younger siblings, Madeleine never comes to Mama with any of her woes or troubles. Instead, she does her best to avoid approaching the madwoman under guise of training, and in the cases where an encounter is unavoidable, she is careful to go along with whatever Mama says and agree no matter what the whimsical demands might be.
Madeleine is a tender eleven years old when she burns a city to the ground for being unable to produce the required tribute of toffees to Big Mom. The incident leaves her bruised and bleeding with three broken ribs and a fractured leg, but anything is better than having to sit down in front of Big Mom and face her slow, slow smile and cruel, cruel displeasure.
Anything. Anything.
.
.
(How much is something as fickle and fragile as morals worth in a world that has absolutely no use for morals at all?
The answer to this is: Not very much. That is to say, nothing.)
.
.
From day one, Madeleine has had a vested disinterest in following her late father's footsteps, which is precisely the reason why she does anything she can to please her monstrous mother, to stay in her good graces. Mediocrity is meaningless, normalcy is worthless. The only path forwards is in being valuable enough to be a piece that Mama wants to keep on the playing board rather than discard with nary a thought.
She fears as much as she hates and hates as much as she fears, and though she knows that some would call her fortunate for being born under Big Mom's protection in the perilous New World, Big Mom's protection comes with a price. Even as her child by blood, it comes with a price.
There is always a price.
.
.
This is Charlotte Madeleine:
Every order followed to the letter. Every command obeyed unquestioningly. Every plan executed flawlessly.
(The girl stops counting her kills somewhere in the early seventies. Kill number fifty-eight is exactly the same as number two hundred and thirty-one.)
Mama laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
"Good girl, Madeleine," she croons. "Such a good, sweet little girl."
She smiles blankly in response, and bows her head. Her hands no longer tremble anymore, but she is still terrified. The only thing that's changed over the years is that she's gotten better at hiding it.
"Yes, Mama."
.
.
(It is common knowledge amongst the Charlotte siblings that the reliable big brother Peros is ruled by his devotion to Mama, and the strongest brother Katakuri is ruled by his loyalty. Madeleine, on the other hand, is unanimously agreed upon to be governed by a singularly ironclad discipline.
Every training session over the years is endured silently, no matter how painful. Every order is always executed to perfection, no matter how suicidal–
Lie.
Madeleine is guided by desperation, ruled by terror. It's all she's ever known since the day of her birth in this world.)
.
.
I don't want to die.
.
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"My favorite daughter," Mama likes to say, chuckling. "Sweet little Madeleine. You're lucky that you're my favorite."
.
.
In Big Mom's eyes, children are tools. All of the Charlotte siblings are fully aware of this. The useful ones are kept by Mama's side as her favorites, and the useless ones are generally used as marriage pieces to bring new alliances into the fold of the Big Mom Pirates. Win-win.
"If you had a choice," one of her many sisters suddenly asks her, "What kind of man would you want to marry?"
Madeleine almost misses the days when most of her siblings ignored her. Out of all of Big Mom's children, Lola is definitely the chattiest. The loudest. "… It will be as Mama deems appropriate."
In truth, Madeleine has no interest in marrying anyone. Even with the majority of her sisters being married off left and right, it's never really crossed her mind. Although, she has no doubt that she would simply quietly acquiesce to Mama's wishes if the whimsical woman suddenly decided to marry her off one day. There's no strength left in her to entertain the notion of resistance, if it had ever even existed in the first place. Just a vague tiredness, and resignation.
She's so very tired of being scared all the time. Seventeen years is a long time to be scared. She's tired, but she can't stop.
"Why are you asking me this?"
Lola is silent for a heartbeat. "I met my husband to-be today. Mama arranged it."
Madeleine would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not hear the dissatisfaction in her sister's voice. And all of a sudden, something akin to irritation flares up in her.
She is different from Lola. She's been killing people at Mama's behest as her personal weapon in the dark since eleven years old, and she's never stopped since. Lola lives in the heart of Mama's territory, where she is safe and protected and served three meals a day–
"You are a Charlotte," Madeleine snaps out icily, heart impassive even as her sister jerks and recoils. "From birth, you've enjoyed the privileges that come with being Mama's daughter. You do not need to scavenge for your own food. You do not need to sleep on a bed of hay. You do not need to take a knife into your hands and–"
She cuts herself off with a slight hiss.
You have enjoyed numerous privileges as Big Mom's daughter, privileges that most people can only dream of in the New World. And now, when it is your time to step forth when Big Mom needs you, you dare turn away?
Do you have any idea–
Any idea–
aNY iDeA–
Madeleine closes her eyes. Deep breath. Slow in, slow out.
"Sister, that's not–"
"I'm done here," she says curtly, and stands up to leave. "Go home. Maybe Chiffon will talk some sense into you."
The kill missions that Mama likes to send her on have resulted in Madeleine gaining a rather nasty habit of killing whatever gets in her way. Lola might be foolish and inconsiderate at times, but that doesn't warrant her death at Madeleine's hands.
(This has nothing to do with the fact that Lola is one of the few siblings who can look her in the eyes without flinching and smiles and laughs as easily as she breathes. A breath of sunshine. This has nothing to do with anything whatsoever. Nothing at all.)
.
.
"… She's really gone?"
Katakuri's eyes darken, and his words come out low and clipped. "Yes. Traitor."
Madeleine hums, eyes flickering to the horizon line where the sky meets the sea. "Mama won't be pleased."
Her brother exhales, clicking his tongue in silent agreement. For a moment, both of them stare out at the sea together, in the direction where Lola had fled in the dead of the night, and she can't help but wonder why.
Lola isn't stupid. Oblivious at times, and eternally optimistic, but not stupid. She knows the risks. All of Big Mom's children know the risks. She'd even warned her, when the girl had asked for her opinion earlier in the day. So why, why, why?
Why?
"… We need to report this. Fuck." Katakuri reaches up and rubs his eyes, the way only a man who's had to clean up after one too many messes of his eighty-odd younger siblings does. "This is… not good. Mama's been planning this for a long time, and Lola is the lynchpin of it all. She's going to be furious."
Indeed, Mama is going to be furious. There's no doubt about it. Madeleine doesn't fancy being anywhere within three islands of it when that's happening.
"I'll go take a look at what was going on with the patrol last night," she offers. Katakuri waves her off with a spare hand, the other preoccupied with pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain effort to stave off an incoming headache.
.
.
Mama is furious, incandescent with rage.
Lola is labeled a traitor.
.
.
Sometimes, Madeleine wonders how Lola is doing. Knowing her, it's unlikely that the girl had thought through all the consequences and ramifications of her abrupt departure. Did she ever even consider what would become of her sister Chiffon?
… She'll never understand the girl.
But then, there's still a charm to that. It's precisely the reason why Lola is the only one of Big Mom's children to successfully disappear as a runaway bride, even with Madeleine still remaining by Mama's side, heeding her every beck and call.
"You're lucky that you're my favorite, Lola. I'd hate to have to kill another sister."
Find a good man to settle down with, and never come back.
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Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631753?view_full_work=true#main