A/N: I wrote this for my Zoro a while back, and well, it's mostly headcanons, but nice nonetheless. As always, I own nothing but the words. Enjoy~.

Their daily routine had been set in motion the moment Perona had decided to stop complaining. Usually the three would wake up at different times of the day(while Mihawk rarely slept at all), the pink-headed woman always being the last to rise. Next would be breakfast, prepared by the grumbling older swordsman, seeing as the other two were completely helpless when it came to food. Then training for the two men, while a relaxed Perona would over-look in the window seal of the library.

This would carry on for hours, usually leaving Perona bored and with nothing to do but read. She had taken quite a bit to the medical books of the castle's vast library, and on occasions would pick up one of those sappy romance novels, if only to laugh at their usually tragic endings(though she secretly wished some of those stories would happen to her). Lunch would come next, but usually taken separate as Mihawk would take to his study to relax, and Zoro would snooze in the garden. Perona, of course, was the only sensible one and actually ate something more than just a piece of bread.

More training, along with practice of her sewing work, and then finally dinner. As it had become tradition, the three would meet to eat, and argue(mostly Zoro and Perona) about who would get to take a bath first.

She usually won, with the excuse of her having to clean his wounds after he bathed.

And once that was done, his wounds would be tended to, while he would tell her a story or two about his adventures. While she wouldn't admit it, this had become one of her favorite parts of the day, for the pure fact that she got to spend time with the swordsman without having to nag him, or try and find his lost self, or get yelled at for being annoying.

But somehow, tonight of all nights, he had chosen to take things in a different turn. As she finished the knot on the gash that had presented itself on his right bicep, his eyes turned to her petite figure, the look of concentration coming into their vision.

"Hey, Pinkie." This caused her attention to turn from his arm to his face, a slightly confused look on his face, "How'd you get into Thriller Bark anyways?" What he was prepared for was a denial of answering said question, or perhaps a deep scowl, but much to his surprise, her face softened and she had made a point to focus her attention back on the next wound.

As she dabbed the cut with rubbing alcohol, she started her tale, "I was seven when I ate the Horo Horo no Mi. My mother was a wealthy heiress of a famous marine admiral, so we were set for life. As nice as endless spending money, and never having to worry about going hungry sounds, it wasn't. She was strict, really mean, and wouldn't let me have anything cute. Sometimes she'd beat me up, but I didn't mind the bruises because they were a pretty color, " She grabbed the needle and thread at her side, sticking it though the top of his cut. As she began to lace it she continued, "I was forced to stay in my room and wear nothing but her ugly, bland dresses. I couldn't even go out and play like a normal little girl…and my only toy and friend was a stuffed bear.

"The fruit was a present to my grandfather that she had bought off the black market, and I thought it was cute so I ate it. When she found out I had gained powers from it, I was send on a boat with nothing but the clothes on my back, a sack full of day old bread, and Bearsy," She took a breath then, but her face remained un-phased. This confused Zoro immensely, normally when people talk about their past, they would have an array of emotions ranging from hatred to sadness. Yet Perona had shown nothing but concentration with lips pressed firm, eyes locked on her work, "I went three weeks without seeing anything but ocean and those stupid, annoying seagulls. Then," Finally something, her eyes narrowed in as she looped the last bit of the thread through, "Moriah found me, and asked if I wanted to be a princess. He said I could do anything I wanted, wear whatever I wanted, and have all the cute things I wanted. How could I say no? Even in my dehydrated and half dead state I knew not to refuse this offer."

She placed the gauze on the wound, her delicate fingers holding onto the cloth, and it was then that he noticed that she was shaking. The next time she looked up at him, there were several tears ready to burst out from under her lids, "And that's how I got to Thriller Bark."

He just stared, not too sure what to do after that tale of heart-ache. So when she gave him a lingering pat on his chest, and told him she was done, he did nothing. It wasn't until she had gone a few steps towards the door, that he had grasped a firm hold onto her wrist. Three words were spoken then and planted forever in the mind of one pink-headed female, "I'm sorry, Perona."

And it was as if that mask of concentration had cracked, leaving her with a burning sensation in her stomach, and tear struck cheeks. She turned her body around, embracing him and burrowing her head into his chest. While he wasn't very good at this compassion thing, he would deal with this—for Perona. His fingers idly stroked her hair as her sobs soaked through his shirt. Nothing else was said, nor did it become awkward. They just basked in the silence and understanding of one's past. Soon enough he had laid down on the bed, still cradling her body against hers. The tears had stopped, but he could still hear the soft whimpers from the female. He wouldn't leave her, not like this.

And for the first night of many, Perona and Zoro slept in the same bed, and it soon fell into their routine.