One Piece: Oneshots

Pharaoh!Law x reader

You hadn't wanted this. Simple.

You hadn't asked for this. Simple.

You were forced to be this. Simple.

Why did your life have to be dictated by harsh gods? Why had they cursed you to be fierce, proud and strong, yet will you to be limited and branded a slave? What had you done to deserve this?

Oh, that's right, you were born a slave, and you will die a slave, remember?

You had never been lucky, so why would you gain any now? Even as you were being dragged passed the large stone pillars, lining the grand stone hall, towards the throne. There, the Pharaoh would sit, and there it was you would bow down at his feet.

Slave to the Pharaoh.

You hated it, you knew you were meant for more - but life had never been constructed to give you the opportunity to show more. Your parents, Hebrews, slaves.

You. Hebrew. Slave. Just accept that the Egyptians rule over you because of who you were born to be.

"Kneel properly," snarled the guard, his sandalled foot coming to kick at your ankles. You growled, bending your knees so that you were slumped before the throne, and there in all his glory, in all his fine, beautiful glory, was the Pharaoh. Law. The guards slowly back away, spears nestled by their sides, but hands gripped around them tightly in case you were to try anything.

You wouldn't yet. There was no point.

"This is the slave girl?" Came the low rumble from the king, his golden earrings jingling as he turned his head to the three high priests that trembled under his half lidded gaze. He continued, "she's not what I expected."
You held your tongue.

"My king, she is, we assure you, the best we could find," one of them shuffled forward, the loincloth he was wearing far too clean. You almost forgot how clean people could be. Gods, what you would give to be in a better place than on the ground being forced to work for nothing.

"She's filthy," he muttered, waving his hand dismissively, "why is she still here?" You bit the inside of your cheek, but your cheeks grew red in anger. You'd once admired the royal family, Pharoahs passed having been inspirations.

This guy? Pfft, don't bother to try and make you laugh, you could spit on the ground and it would do a better job of having respect.

"I'm awaiting orders, if I may be so bold," you chirped, rising to your feet, the cloth covering your body feeling a little tight, "I am to be your slave, am I not?"

The three Priests clapped their hands to their mouths, shock on their features - the guards were readying to deal with you accordingly.

The Pharaoh, however, merely messed with the rings on his fingers, adjusting the golden necklace around his neck before rising from his vast, elegantly carved throne. A smirk was on his face, interest shining in his eyes.

You simply stood, awaiting for something to happen - he could hit you and get away with it, if he so wished. He could do anything he wanted. He was king.
He stepped up to you, towering over your smaller frame, as his hand snaked under your chin, gripping it tightly, "you ought to watch your tone, slave girl."

He gripped tighter, but your pride wouldn't let the sting elicit any reaction out of you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Go and bathe, you're making my palace look unclean." He muttered, letting you go, and gesturing for the guards to guide you to what you assumed would be your room for the rest of your miserably boring and limited life.