Chapter Text
Sanji can see them through the window as they arrive. He presses his cheek to the cold glass of the window, ignoring how the metal of the grillwork presses uncomfortably into his jaw so he can watch them as long as possible. He keeps his eyes on the small group until they pass through the castle entrance and out of Sanji's view.
The delegation from Shimotsuki is here.
Judge isn't happy about it, but making a deal with them is his only option if he wants safe passage through the coastal kingdom’s waters. Unlike Germa, Shimotsuki is a place of magic; it's woven into the very earth it sits on. Judge hates magic more than he does Sanji; he is obsessed with it. Judge has never taken well to being denied, and if he can't have magic, no one else should; if he can't have magic, he has to be better.
With magic comes sorcerers. Sorcerers, especially those from Shimotsuki, are known for their hostility. A recent demonstration of that violence is the reason Judge is negotiating with Shimotsuki instead of trying to just blast through them. Forcing his way through had been the plan until reports of their violent overthrow of Arabasta made it to Germa, making it clear that no one was safe from them.
When he heard Judge was negotiating with Shimotsuki, Sanji had been morbidly curious. He’d heard of Shomotsuki from reports that kept popping up, so he’d read the next few that came to the castle.
The reports had made it horribly clear that there couldn't be a better warning regarding sorcerers than Shimotsuki if someone tried. Article after article tracked them as the country’s sorcerers trampled anyone in their way, the country climbing the political ladder and leaving a scorched path of devastation behind them.
Sanji’s met a few Magic users before. They were nothing like the stories. Zeff's people had very much been the exception, though they weren’t Shimotsuki, and Sanji was younger then. Most people are more forgiving of children, not Judge, but Zeff was.
In the beginning, at least, Zeff had felt sorry enough for Sanji and needed extra hands on his restaurant, a strange wandering thing that was the only thing Zeff really used magic for anymore. He gave Sanji a place to stay and kept him fed.
Sanji still doesn't know why Zeff let some random kid he found on a rock stay, but it didn’t matter as Sanji grew into himself and found a true home on the Baratie. At some point, Zeff had stopped calling him “kid” and instead started giving him ridiculous, embarrassing nicknames and calling Sanji “my kid” Sanji wouldn't have had it any other way.
He’d spent the happiest years of his life there, and then Germa found him. Soldiers had swarmed The Baratie, tore up the place, and dragged him back to the castle.
He never got the chance to tell the old geezer, but he loved Zeff, and even after years of distance, he still considers the man to be more his father than Judge ever was.
There are nights he still dreams of the Baratie, of waking up to Zeff's gruff shouts and the sound of prep–work from the kitchen. Then Sanji wakes up in the room that's become his prison, alone and cold. He never manages to fall back asleep on those nights.
Last night had been like that. He’d woken up missing the constant noise of The Baratie and the rocking under his feet. The Shimotsuki delegation being here doesn't help.
Despite Shimotsuki’s' savagery, the Baratie staff had also been Magic users, and seeing the delegation’s legged carriages and carts taking up part of the courtyard outside made Sanji's heart ache.
Last night, as Sanji stared at Shimotsuki’s caravan, he couldn't stop the few silent tears that had fallen onto his clenched hands; once he’d finally torn his gaze away, Sanji had listened silently for a few minutes, ensuring no one was lurking around, before slipping a worn-out leather journal from between the mattress and the headboard.
The book had been a gift from Zeff the first time he caught Sanji sneaking cumin into the deviled eggs. Up to that point, Sanji had been scribbling notes on crumpled order tickets he'd tuck into his pillowcase after the kitchen closed. Sanji remembers being scared shitless when he turned around and saw Zeff. He'd been so sure Zeff would toss him for meddling. Instead, Zeff had only asked to try it and then suggested adding white pepper.
Sanji was given this soft leather journal and a pen the following day. When he gave Sanji the journal, Zeff told him every great chef needed a proper recipe book to write in instead of the scraps of paper Sanji’d been using.
Sanji considers fetching his journal as he pulls away from the window, now clouded by his breath. Sanji has opened and closed the book so often that whenever he opens it, he can watch the leather bend into creases that have developed around the spine over the years.
Sanji can't cook during the day when he might be seen, and now that the Shimotsuki delegation is here, he can't even steal off to the kitchen at night. Who knows what would happen to him if one of them found him and told the Judge, or as his brothers have spent the last month saying, they might decide to handle his rebellion themselves. Whatever a magic user like them might do if they catch him alone would put Judge's punishments to shame.
He can’t get to the kitchen, but still, his hands will ache to do something. He craves the suffocating heat of a kitchen instead of this cold that seeps into his bones, so he’ll do the next best thing and flip through his recipes and ideas. It doesn't completely drown it out, but it does soothe the sour feeling pooling in his chest as he loses himself in the process.
Despite the danger of being caught, Sanji stands to walk to the bed but doesn't get two steps in before the obscenely heavy door to his room swings open, hitting the wall behind it with such force the gold-toned metal of the handle audibly crunches, but his brother doesn't care as he strides into the room.
"Failure! Dad wants you in the main hall," Niji says, a simple statement that makes no fucking sense.
The Shimotsuki delegation is still here, and Sanji was most certainly not invited to the negotiations.
The main hall’s been converted into a negotiation office for the occasion. If anyone from Shimotsuki asks, it's a sign of respect, but everyone in the castle knows it's actually to keep them as near the door as possible.
Niji clearly gets tired of Sanji not moving and grabs him roughly by the arm, squeezing hard enough that Sanji knows it will bruise. As he yanks Sanji nearly off his feet and drags him through the halls, Sanji stumbles after him, unable to match Niji’s stride with the angle his arm is bent.
Niji only releases Sanji from his vice grip once they are just outside the door where Reiju is waiting for them. She gives Sanji's post-frogmarch appearance a once-over before telling him to tidy himself up before he embarrasses the kingdom in front of their guests. Sanji smooths down his shirt again and re-drapes the stupid red cape he has to wear into its correct spot. He runs his hand through his hair quickly before Reiju decides he's decent and gives him a nod. Sanji still has no clue what's happening. Judge had made it clear that Sanji was not to get involved lest his empathy make them seem weak. But now, Judge has, apparently, changed his mind.
Sanji puts on the placid expression he usually wears in Judge's presence, the one he wears to keep Judge from picking up on anything that he can use against Sanji.
Zoro watches the hall doors open, breaking him out of the bored daze he'd been in since nNmi started reading over the final version of the treaty.
The blue prince strides into the hall; Zoro hasn't bothered to learn the names of the Germa royalty. They seem like shit people anyway.
Zoro straightens in his seat, not for the blue prince but because he'd been sent to bring the third prince. Zoros has been told to refer to him as Prince Vinsmoke, at least until they are otherwise introduced, but Zoro thinks that's stupid. Zoro hates having to wait to actually meet the person he's going to be marrying.
Why he hasn't been here from the beginning? Zoro couldn't say, but he's decided to think that his fiance’s just been handling other things for the kingdom, or he hopes, at least so he can convince himself he's marrying someone competent, if nothing else.
Zoro scowls as the blue prince purposefully shoulders one of the attendants holding the doors with a smirk.
Thankfully, someone catches the girl before she actually falls. He’s not someone they've met before, so it must be the prince Zoro's waiting for. He sees the blonde talk to the girl he's helping up briefly, and then his sister (the pink one) is batting his hands away from her and grabbing the blonde's arm to all but drag him into the hall.
Well, at least he seems less insufferable than his family, but Zoro has to remember not to give any of the Germa royals the benefit of the doubt just because they've got a pretty face.
Zoro realizes he's still staring as the prince walks up to them when Nami, without looking up from the papers in front of her, kicks Zoro in the shin.
When the prince is facing most of the hall Zoro is struck by the emptiness of his face. It doesn't look right on him. Zoro thinks his fiance looks like he should be full of emotion, and when the prince turns so none of the other Vinsmokes can see his face, Zoro watches as that nothingness seems to start cracking, showing hints of actual personality somewhere in there.
The prince looks at him, but when he meets Zoro's eyes, he quickly looks down, focusing on the embroidery of the tablecloth. Zoro frowns at it. He wants the prince's eyes back on him, not the stupid gaudy fabric.
Zoro can tell it's supposed to be a showy thing with all the fancy-ass materials it's made of, but it's just ugly. Even Mihawk would turn his nose up at the thing, and he likes fancy-looking stuff.
Judge clears his throat, and Zoro manages to glance away from the prince. “This is the third prince of Germa. I do hope he’s suitable.” what a way to talk about your own son.
Zoro looks back at his fiance and can see his annoyance with Judge too, but the prince doesn't say anything; instead, Zoro’s fiance comes closer to greet them.
Instead of stepping right up to greet Zoro like everyone else had, instead Zoro’s fiance greets Robin first, then one by one wishes well to everyone else, leaving Zoro for last.
Judge looks like he’s going to start screaming like a kettle, but Zoro is incredibly grateful. Everyone else has ignored everyone but Zoro himself. At least he's marrying the one that seems to be able to see beyond a fucking title.
He can tell the prince recognizes Luffy as well, but he greets him just the same as he had Robin, Nami, and Usopp. Actually, Zoro's pretty sure Sanji seemed more reverent of Nami and Robin, who don't have established reputations like Luffy does.
When The blonde does look at him to greet him, Zoro is doing his best to actually act like a person a surprisingly hard task while the only thing in his head is “pretty” on loop. Nami is digging her heel into his calf so Zoro must not be doing too well.
Acting on instinct alone, Zoro sticks his hand out to his fiance, “Prince Zoro” Nami shoves her heel into his leg even harder; she’d lectured him for almost the whole morning about introducing himself as ‘Prince Roronoa,’ but she should just be glad he’s using the fucking title.
Zoro's fiance hesitates, blinking at Zoro's hand like he's not sure what to do. It's incredibly awkward, and Zoro’s just hoping he's not going to have to retract his hand like a dunce.
Thankfully, he doesn't because the prince reaches out, placing his hand in Zoro’s. “Well, meet Your Majesty.” the prince looks up and meets Zoro's eye again. His visible eye is the same blue as the ocean back in Shimotsuki. “Apparently, I've been introduced already.”
No, please do it again. Please. I want to hear you talk more.
Apparently, Zoro takes too long to respond as his fiance pulls his hand away before Zoro can say anything else.
Judge interrupts again, and Zoro feels a flash of anger; well, even more than the average amount Zoro feels whenever Judge speaks. “Well then, let's get this thing signed. Boy. You're dismissed.”
What, wait, no, this is absurd.
Zoro goes to protest, but Nami moves her heel from where it's at his calf to dig into the back of his knee instead. He doesn't like this one bit, but Zoro's not going to risk messing this up for Nami. She's been working on this for months now.
Still, Zoro watches the prince until the doors close behind him. At least once this is signed, he should be able to see his fiance again.
If Sanji is confused by being called to the negotiation table, he's even more confused as he is promptly dismissed from the room as soon as he has been announced. It's weird, but he won't complain. Less time with Judge, less time with his brothers, less time having to play the proper prince of Germa, and less contact with the most feared collection of magic users around.
Strangely, they hadn’t looked as monstrous as Sanji had expected. Even the prince himself, still the scariest looking of the lot, looked more like the dashing heroes of the books he's read than the villains, but looks can be deceiving. It's for the best if he stays as far from them as possible.
Unlike his trip down to the hall, Sanji is free to roam after his dismissal; none of his siblings follow him out. As he wanders the winding hallways to the garden, Sanji realizes that right now he knows for sure that: Judge is in the hall, all of his siblings are in the hall, and none of his siblings are leaving the hall.
The main hall is built so those inside can't hear the kitchen. Judge takes great pride in that fact, glad to ignore anyone he deems lesser and in being able to imitate magic without needing it.
Sanji turns around, abandoning his plan of going to the gardens, and slinks the long way to the kitchen that doesn't pass the hall doors. The kitchen is empty, Judge refuses to feed Sorcerers even if he has to have them in his halls. The castle staff didn't argue; none of them were keen on being anywhere near sorcerers. Sanji understands their fear; he feels it too, but he wants to cook more than he fears Shimotsuki, so he pushes them out of his head and sinks into the familiar comforts of moving around the kitchen.
Someone's footsteps reach Sanji's ears, and his head snaps up from the dish he's working on, realizing that he's forgotten to keep an eye out in case someone comes near when he hears a vaguely familiar voice say, "It's coming from this way! What is it? it smells super great?" Freezing, Sanji flips through his head to try to place the voice, only to feel his blood run cold as he realizes it's Shimotsuki’s military captain himself.
Sanji quickly pulls the roast he's made out of the oven so it won't burn and bolts out of the kitchen. He doesn't stop once he gets out of the kitchen and practically runs back to his room, frantically closing the door behind him. His hands slide over the broken section of the doorknob where Niji smashed it earlier. Gripping the knob, he finds a place where the metal has fractured, leaving a jagged edge that digs into the side of his palm.
Once he's got the door closed, Sanji pulls away. Looking at his hands, he watches as blood wells up from the gash and starts running down his wrist.
His hand.
He cuts his hand.
As he rushes into the bathroom to wash the cut, Sanji silently curses Shimotsuki. This is what he gets for Judge bringing Sorcerers into the castle. The world is, once again, punishing Sanji for Judge's actions.
The universe is cruel like that, and Sanji wants the delegation gone before he has to pay the price again.
Sanji spends the rest of the afternoon cloistered away in the relative privacy of his room. He tenses up at every creak or shifting shadow; he’s even startled by his own hair moving in the corner of his vision a few times.
Even though he watched the Shimotsuki delegation leave hours ago, he’s still expecting that at any moment, someone will bust in, and he'd pay the price for forgetting that while sound couldn't make it to the main hall, of course, the smell of cooking food would.
Nothing happens until the evening rolls around. The sun is low in the sky; it’s at that annoying point between light and dark where it's too dark to see well but too bright for lights to make a difference when Reiju comes. She at least has the decency to knock, but she doesn't wait for him to answer before opening the door.
Sanji's first reaction is to make some sarcastic comment to distract from whatever situation brought her here, but when he looks at her face, the words die on his tongue. He knows Reiju can feel somewhat, definitely more than his brothers, but even then, he's never seen emotion so clear on her face as he does now. She looks somewhere near defeated, a look he can’t quite name, let alone ever think he'd see on her, but here she is.
She doesn't look at him as she speaks, voice quiet, "Dad wants to see you."
If it weren't for Reiju’s State, Sanji would have scoffed and made some comment about how the world must be ending, but in the face of his sister's distress, he just nodded, and they walked in silence to the Judge's actual office. Reiju lets him into the office, but instead of following him in like he’d expected, she closes the door behind him, leaving Sanji alone as he turns to face Judge.
Judge speaks first, as always, "Negotiations with Shimotsuki are over. Good riddance, that redhead is far too proud for her own good. Someone should knock her down a peg someday, and she might get pleasant enough to match her pretty face."
Sanji wants to yell at Judge’s frankly disgusting comment; he knows better, but there’s never an excuse to disrespect a woman, and there's no universe where Sanji doesn't bite out. “Do not talk about her like that.”
Judge plows on ignoring Sanji’s outburst: "I got my passage, but I don't care for my end of the deal."
He means he doesn't like that there's a 'his side' of the deal at all. He’s pissed that the Shimotsuki delegation actually asked for anything in return instead of submitting to his whims.
"That's where you come in. Finally, I found a use for you," Sanji tenses. "Gets you out of my hair at last, too," with his voice dripping with amusement and false congratulations. Judge sends Sanji spinning with one sentence, "Congratulations on your engagement!"
"What?" he should say more. He has so much more to say, to scream and shout, but nothing comes to him.
Judge must be joking, but then again, this is something he would do, and it's not like Sanji was there for the negotiations.
Every horrible story Yonji and his other brothers have told him rushes to mind. Flashes of his brothers' voices, tinged with sick admiration, as they describe how magic users are violent and greedy, how they show no mercy for the defenseless and have no morals to speak of as they burn and kill without cause. Stories of cruelty extending behind closed doors churn in his stomach as he thinks about what Roronoa might expect after they’re married. Hell, if the rumors are true, Sanji might end up cooking and eating himself before he ever touches a pan again.
Judge laughs. "Even magic users know what a political marriage means to more civilized kingdoms. They don't have to know you're a worthless investment."
Shimotsuki is a kingdom, of course, they know, but still, Sanji doesn't say anything.
"That doesn't get you out of holding up your end of the bargain,"
"Oh, but it does! That’s where you come in." Judge stands up and walks around to stand on the same side of his desk as Sanji. "The help’s already packing your shit. They’ll leave a little gift in your trunk for you. Unfortunately, you've never been good at much, but we’ll make it work."
Judge grabs a box off the desk behind it and opens it. "You're going to kill them."
"What?"
"Poison, you should know how to use that at least. I want Roronoa and the rest of the royal family dead in a year's time."
Poison? Judge expects him to poison them, and expects him to taint the one good thing he has left; the bastard probably knows what he's doing, too.
"I'm not poisoning anyone. "
"Yes, you are." Judge reaches out and grabs Sanji's hands. His fingers dig painfully into the bandaged gash from the doorknob earlier, probably reopening the scab as he snaps whatever he'd gotten out of the box around Sanji’s wrists.
"What the fuck!” Sanji shouts, yanking his arms back and pressing them into his chest.
"Call it… insurance," Judge drawls. Sanji looks down, seeing golden bands on him. Turning his arms, he can't see a clasp. Looking back to judge the man's grin bearing only cruel amusement, "They're full of spark powder; you disobey, you lose your hands, you mess up this marriage, you lose your hands, and if those rabble are still alive in a year, you lose your hands."
Sanji’s going to cry. He can't cry. He can't cry in front of Judge; it will only make things worse, but it feels like the room is collapsing on him. “Yes, sir,”
Judge huffs Smugly, "Glad you understand. Get out; I don't want to see you again until I can finally be rid of you," before shoving Sanji out the door.
He stands in the hall, frozen in shock, even as his body wills him to run. His face feels tight, and he knows he won't be able to stop himself from crying this time. He sees Reiju as she rounds the corner.
She stops when she sees him. "I'm sorry-" Sanji doesn't let her finish; instead, he turns and runs. She knew, Reiju knew, and did nothing.
Thankfully, he doesn't come across anyone else on the way to his room. Sanji throws the doors open; he hears the door handle hit the wall again, grimacing. He hopes he hasn't made it any harder to fix. He slides down the inside of the door and starts sobbing. He tries to stay quiet as he cries until he can't anymore.
With tears drying on his cheeks and his throat dry, he blinks the last tears out of his eyes and finally looks about the room. A singular trunk sits on the rug in the middle of the room. The closet door has been flung open, and empty drawers have been haphazardly left open.
Sanji drags himself to the bed and collapses. The bands on his wrists clack together when he lands. The sound rings through the room, and Sanji feels bile gather in his throat, letting out a few more strangled, dry, and painful sobs.
When Sanji wakes, there's still salt dried on his face, but the sun is shining through the window. Sanji doesn't know the time, but he can't bring himself to care. It could be the last time the sun rises for all he cares, but Sanji can't muster the desire even to try getting out of bed. His head feels like cotton as he lies unmoving.
It's dark outside when Sanji eventually does get up. He doesn't know if he’d slept. The trunk looms in the corner of his vision, and he realizes that with the day ending, time is running out before the wedding. They've packed a trunk. The reality that he's leaving finally sets in. He takes a deep breath. He's leaving, and he's getting out. This is what he wanted, maybe not how he wanted it, but he's getting out, hopefully never to return.
No. Definitely never to return. He'd prefer the inevitable death once Roronoa gets bored of him, and if that doesn't come before the year's end…He'll take the matter into his own hands before Judge can.
Judge can threaten and try to break him all he wants, but Sanji will refuse to let him take anything else.
Sanji resolves that to hell with the consequences. He refuses to poison any dish for Judge; he will not disgrace himself that way. He would sooner taste that sickness on his own tongue.
If he has to die, he will die with his hands. If Judge wants to take them, he can do so over Sanji's dead body.
There's a tiny flicker of hope deep in his chest that maybe he can get away or they will turn him loose once they get tired of him, and he could rent a little freedom, just enough so that when the year ends and his time comes, he can say he had lived for something, that he’d had a purpose. Either way, Sanji is leaving Germa. He finally drags himself to his feet; he goes tomorrow, so he'll say farewell tonight.
That's how Sanji finds himself kneeling in front of the familiar headstone of Sora Vinsmoke. Sanjis is the only one who visits anymore, so he is the one to brush any fallen leaves or debris from the headstone, but he allows moss to grow thick over one side of the stone so it covers where ‘Vinsmoke’ is carved. It's better this way. Better that this is the headstone of just ‘Sora’; at least in death, she can be free of the man and country that ignored her through her last days.
The night air is crisp against Sanji's skin as he shares one last bedtime story with his mother. The hero wins, the monster falls into the sea, and Sanji decides the story ends there. Usually, this story ends when the hero marries the love of his life, but the words make him feel sick as he tries to speak them. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and sits on the hum of the night for a little.
His eyes start feeling heavy, then he feels something tickle his nose. Opening his eyes, he sees the black and white wings of a butterfly perched on his nose. A butterfly out on a cool night like this? It’s strange, but it makes Sanji feel like the little thing came looking for him, like it wanted to tell him it would be okay. Sanji lets himself feel the comfort he's always associated with butterflies. Natural elegance and touch as soft as his mother's breath when she’d pull him into a hug. His mother loved them, so they had to be good. It's a rarity to see one in Germa this time of year; it's indisputable now that it will be okay; either way, his story ends.
Sanji takes a deep breath and the butterfly takes off. Sanji stands and looks down at the headstone, admiring the butterfly more easily now that it's perched above where Sora is written. "I love you, Mom. I'll see you in a year."
"You're not going to do it?" Sanji startles as Reiju's voice comes from the dark behind him.
"No, I’m not."
"So you're just going to give up? You're just going to lay down and die?" She's angry. Judge always liked anger best.
"I'll win; it's an escape. I'll be free of Judge," rage wells in Sanji now, too. Reiju could have said something; she is Judge’s precious little girl, and if she’d had pushed, she could have saved him. "I'll be free of all of you." Reiju looks hurt, but Sanji doesn’t stop, "I'll win; I will keep my heart and soul, my own—no thanks to you. I know you could have stopped this. "
"Sanji, it's not that simple."
" It is. "
"Sanji, you don't understand Germa needs this, and if you just follow Dad's orders this once, it'll be better after you become a hero; you'll be-"
"Not a failure?"
"Sanji, that's not what I meant."
"Yes, it is; you don't have to pretend."
"Sanji, please be reasonable. It's not a big deal."
"Reasonable? Not a big deal? Not a big deal, it's just me, right?"
"Sanji, it's been done; sure, I could have objected, but at what cost? What would Germa have to pay instead?"
“Not me! It's not like Judge can't afford it.”
Reiju stiffens, “Too bad, I don't care, and this is happening. End of conversation.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Sanji doesn't respond for a moment. Reiju shifts from one foot to the other in the tense air.
"Reiju.”
“Yes?”
“You’re a bad sister."
Another tense moment, then Reiju sighs,
"I know; nonetheless, I still love you."
Sanji snorts, “Yeah, right. I can't believe I trusted you, that I thought you were any different from the rest of them. I hope this haunts you; I hope I haunt you."
With that, Sanji leaves his sister alone in the courtyard.
The curtains cast eerie shadows across the room as Sanji slides his recipe book out from its hiding space and tucks it into the trunk, burying it under a pile of shirts. Laying down in this bed for the last time, he steels himself for whatever he might face in Shimotsuki; he may be escaping Judge, but in a few days’ time, he still walks down the aisle to stand face to face with his death.