The town was bustling with life when Ivar descended from the sky, the newly grown wings on his back spread wide. They were massive and black, almost translucent in the sunlight, casting a shadow on the cobblestone streets below. His landing was less than graceful; the impact of his boots hitting the ground kicked up a small cloud of dust, startling a group of dockworkers nearby.
He folded his wings back into his body, watching as they dissolved into nothingness, leaving no trace but a faint tingling in his shoulders.
"Not bad," he muttered to himself, rolling his neck. "Still needs work."
The town itself was alive with activity. Shipwrights and merchants moved in every direction, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of shouts and hammers. The salty tang of the sea mixed with the earthy aroma of freshly cut lumber, and the docks were a hive of activity, with ships of all shapes and sizes moored along the piers.
When Ivar landed, the townspeople froze, their voices falling silent as all eyes turned to him. Some stared in awe at the towering figure, while others shrank back, fear flickering in their gazes. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but those who recognized him moved faster—pulling away, lowering their heads, and clearing a path.
They remembered the trouble he caused in his younger days, the way his temper often led to harsh endings for those who crossed him. The once-busy market grew quiet, the people huddling together, careful not to do anything that might catch his attention.
Ivar's eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure near the edge of the docks.
Draven stood in front of a sleek, newly constructed ship, gesturing animatedly at a group of shipwrights. He was dressed sharply, as always, in a fitted dark coat and boots polished to a mirror shine. His posture was straight, his movements precise, and his tone carried the weight of authority, despite his relatively young age.
Ivar smirked, making his way toward his brother. Draven didn't even look up when Ivar approached, too focused on instructing the workers.
"Make sure the hull is reinforced—sea battles aren't just about cannonfire, you know. And the figurehead needs to be menacing, not whimsical. What kind of pirate ship looks friendly?"
"I see you've been busy," Ivar called out, loud enough to carry over the noise.
Draven stiffened for a moment before turning, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they met Ivar's.
"You're alive. What a surprise," Draven said dryly.
"Don't sound so relieved," Ivar replied with a grin, spreading his arms. "Miss me?"
"Hardly," Draven shot back. "I've had better company. And unlike you, I don't disappear for the sake of that beast of a man."
Ivar raised an eyebrow. "I called, didn't I?"
Draven scoffed, folding his arms. "Oh, yes, you called. From the bottom of a hole, no less. Stuck. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sounded?"
Ivar shrugged. "Ridiculous or not, I made it out just fine. Found something worthwhile, too."
Draven's gaze flicked to the faint hydra tattoo on Ivar's chest, partially visible through his open shirt. His eyes lingered for a moment before he looked away. "So, what am I supposed to be looking at?"
"A Devil Fruit?"
"WHAT..." Draven's eyes widened, and he jumped up. Of course, he knew what a Devil Fruit was; he even had a desire for a particular one...
"What type is it?" Draven asked hurriedly. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that it wasn't some useless one.
"I think it's the Snake-Snake no Mi, Hydra Model (Hebi-Hebi no Mi, Hydra no Hōhō)," Ivar answered, his tone light but confident. "And it's already proving useful."
Draven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course you'd see it that way. If it's really a fruit giving the power of a hydra, then it should be a Mythical Zoan. A stupid decision to eat it without knowing what it is, but you lucked out, as they are very rare and powerful."
"You're always the cautious one, but sometimes you just have to follow your instincts, hehehe," Ivar countered.
Draven shook his head, turning back to the ship. "Speaking of teams, the ship's almost ready. I've been overseeing every detail while you were off playing around—or whatever it is you think you're doing."
"Playing around?" Ivar's eyes flashed with a sharp glint. "You really think that's what I'm doing? Draven, I told you this before, I did what I felt was right and won't apologize for it."
Draven didn't answer, instead gesturing to the shipwrights to continue their work.
Ivar walked closer, his tone growing softer. "I'm not like Father, Draven."
Draven froze at the mention of their father, his jaw tightening.
"I'm not chasing power for revenge's sake," Ivar continued. "I'm chasing my desires. As you should too."
Draven turned slowly, his expression unreadable. "Desire? Is that what you call it?"
"What else would you call it?" Ivar challenged. "We've lived our whole lives under someone else's shadow. Father's rules, his expectations… his failures. I'm done with that. Aren't you?"
Draven didn't respond immediately, his eyes flickering to the nearly finished ship. The vessel was a symbol of their new beginning, a chance to carve their own path.
"I just don't want us to lose ourselves," Draven said finally, his voice quiet.
"We won't," Ivar said, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I won't let us."
Draven gave a small, reluctant smile, though the tension in his posture didn't entirely fade. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And you're stuck with me," Ivar replied, grinning.
The brothers stood in silence for a moment, watching the shipwrights work. The ship was sleek and imposing, its dark hull designed for speed and durability. The figurehead, still being carved, was beginning to take the shape of a skull, giving off a very disturbing and eerie feeling.
"I see you took some creative liberties," Ivar said, nodding toward the figurehead.
Draven smirked. "You're not the only one with ideas, big brother."
Ivar laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. For all their bickering, there was no one he trusted more than Draven. Together, they were unstoppable.
"Let's get this ship finished," Ivar said, his grin widening. "We've got a lot of seas to conquer, and things to hunt"
"And a lot of trouble to avoid," Draven added with a sigh.
"Where's the fun in that?" Ivar replied, his wings briefly unfurling before vanishing again.
Draven rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. For better or worse, their journey was about to begin.