Chapter Text
Sanji curses loudly as he tries his best to get his muscles to cooperate; he tugs and screams at his sleeping nerves to move while he burns with an anger fit to turn the jail he’s been thrown into to ashes. Cadets come and go, but most of them don’t even grace him with a look despite his best attempts at insults and his hot bravado. Forced to lay down like a wounded animal, howling at the people who brought him in, whole body lax and feet dragging, soles catching on the polished spent wood of the warship’s jail cell, unable to move despite his best efforts at trying to do so. Whatever tranquilizer that filthy vice admiral had injected him with, it is disturbingly effective. Only his head is able to turn this way and that, eyes anxiously trying to analyze his environment for a way of escaping, even if it is useless due to his current state.
The only consolation was that perhaps this cell wasn’t as bad as the one he was in while traveling back to Germa 66’s headquarters. That dingy barely lit cell had dried blood, mysterious stains and the stink of dying men to match the haunting decor as well.
Shaking his head to tear himself away from those memories, he tried to not drown in despair. Having run away so many times already, he knew he had lady luck on his side and his crew always on his back, so he had to keep holding onto something good happening. Maybe the drugs would wear out soon? He simply had to hope so.
“The vice admiral is discussing what to do with you, pirate.” Sanji’s trail of thought was derailed from his spiraling by a rather quiet and polite voice. Looking upwards, he was shocked to see it coming from someone twice his height, neatly dressed in the classic white navy uniform and with blond wavy bangs covering his eyes. Damn, whatever they were feeding these marines, he’d have to steal that secret formula and ingredients…
Sanji chuckled inwards. Well at least his sense of humor was intact.
“Fucks sake… about time, big vice admiral can’t decide on his own what to do with lil’ old me? Do you guys need a stamp of approval from the higher-ups to shit as well?”
He waited for a second to see what sort of reaction he’d get from the hulking man. The poorly trained soldiers were hot headed ones and easier to goad into making mistakes, but the calm and collected ones were tougher to chew, he’d have trouble with those for certain. Maybe he still had a chance to play, he’d drag his way out of this cell if he had to. That second he spent trying to get a read of the marine in front of him, he saw a flash of brown shine under unkempt bangs, and the answer he had been waiting for came at him swiftly in the form of cold metal bars digging into his cheeks.
“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in, Vinsmoke.” A whispered threat made his stomach churn while the impact made his brain rattle in his skull. “My brother is aware of your family, and he does not take kindly to pirates.” That second bit was of little importance to Sanji, he had stopped paying attention the moment he heard his last name.
“I’m not a Vinsmoke, you bastard!” The words were shouted as a knee jerk reaction rather than an attempt at a proper lie.
The marine holding him by the collar let his limp body drop with a thud, seemingly uninterested in whatever else he had to say, cold brown eyes disregarding his little outburst. It made Sanji even more irritated, knowing he had lost the match even before the game had started, to feel his unintended ire be met with indifference, his muscles paralyzed and unable to move and burn through that anger. He berated himself for thinking he had things planned out; these mental games were not his forte.
“Vice Admiral Donquixote will summon you soon.” The taller man motioned with two fingers and cadets were at his side in a second, it was as if their whole interaction hadn’t happened to begin with. They vehemently salute him, dutiful justice in their eyes.
“Yes, Captain Donquixote?”
“Would you guys be so kind as to bring the prisoner to the vice admiral’s office in say, ten minutes?” The smile the man bore and the friendliness of it betrayed the way he acted with Sanji. His change in attitude when addressing his peers was dizzying to witness.
So he was dealing with two brothers and they were both avid pirate haters? Not the first time he was dealt a bad hand, marines ought to have healthier hobbies than kidnapping. Sanji scoffed as he heard the captain walking away, feeling mad at himself because he couldn’t think of anything witty to shout back in time. Banging his forehead against the wooden floor, the only conduit for his pent up frustration currently available, he thought of what to do next.
He has to escape this prison. If he has to steal a boat and row his way back to the Sunny he will do so. He will do anything to not go back to Judge, so he has to survive whatever this trial is and crawl his way back to his family.
–
Minutes pass and Sanji’s whole body aches and tingles; his nerves start flaring up with the pain of the recent injuries that resulted in his fight against the vice admiral. Instead of a wave of relief, he can’t help but to feel too hyper aware of each nerve. He feels the cold ground underneath him, how his labored breath pushes his chest against it, the way that the uncomfortable shackles sit on his back and how he still can’t move a muscle despite his body being able to feel now. He’s too aware of his own body and the lack of control over it. Even if he understands the situation, his brain keeps wrapping around every tiny detail that feels wrong . How his breathing has been speeding up, how dry his mouth feels, how deafening the silence around him is and how his heart hammers against his ribcage like it’s threatening to burst.
Yet he can’t move. It is terrifying. If it wasn’t because of the equally paralyzing anxiety eating at the pit of his stomach and the way he feels the vein in his forehead throb whenever he exerts himself to will a muscle to move, he would’ve spent these last minutes before the fated meeting destroying his teeth chewing the floorboards to escape. Just like a rat. Like the ones that hide in crevices and eat scraps, unwanted yet still surviving, like the ones nibbling on his shoe laces when he’s asleep—when he was asleep—back when he was stuck behind bigger bars—
Oh, we won’t go there.
Yeah, right. No time for tender childhood memories. His brain knows better. He feels it tingle in his skull as it sends a useless shiver and a spark down his nerves that dies before even making it to his fingers. His cravings finally hold hands with his anxiety.
“Can’t a man be offered a smoke before this meeting with his royal fucking vice-admiral highness?” he shouts, thankful that his irritated tone was louder than his underlying nervousness, because his voice feels too loud even to himself.
“Easy now, Vinsmoke.” It was that captain again, his irritatingly quiet voice followed by a couple of extra footsteps.
“You motherfu-”
“We came to get you to Vice Admiral Donquixote’s office.”
There’s a shuffling behind him, and he hears people walk into his little cell. The next thing he knows, he’s being lifted by the arms and dragged outside to where the captain was waiting. He’s not spared a glance, a word, or an explanation of what’s to come while he’s not-so-gracefully dragged outside of the cell and onto the deck of the warship. Sanji let out a joyous quiet exhale the moment he felt a merciless gust blow his front. The wind carrying rain that pricked his cheeks and made him close his eyes, the salt on the air he could now taste on his tongue, it was an onslaught of welcomed sensations. The ship had sailed long ago, and was now in the middle of a forming storm, the deck was slippery, wet and busy with men running around shouting orders and stashing crates. The eerie quietness of the cell he was in, stuck with his haunting memories, was left behind; he welcomed the noise of people and the feeling of arms gripping him, even if they were the enemy dragging to his potential death sentence.
His clothes started to soak in the time it takes them to cross the whole deck. They were constantly stopped by soldiers with questions for the captain, and the giant man himself seemed to not handle slippery floors well by the way he kept slipping and falling. Sanji arches an eyebrow in surprise, concerned at the sight of the person that carried himself in such a cold cruel fashion towards him could be so incredibly inept, falling on his ass while the crew around him laughed and helped him up, nudging him towards the office as a hen would with her chicks. He catches the name by chance, Rosinante, beloved by many it seems, popular among his crew. But this isn’t an amicable scene; if anything, he’s being handed over to his captor again by a clutz and his gang of merry men. He’s reminded of the seriousness of his situation when the doors in front of him open wide and the shadow cast by the vice admiral blocks the light coming from the room.
His presence is suffocating even with the wind blowing blond hair out of place. It makes the laughter on deck die off, and everyone returns to their tasks with tenfold speed. Rosinante shifts in place, addressing his apparent brother with a formal nod.
“Vice Admiral Donquixote, we brought the pirate over.”
“I see that… Set up a room for us, Captain Rosinante, and step in.”
There’s a palpable tension in the air, not broken at all when Rosinante walks past his brother and into the office with quiet ease. As his emblazoned coat disappears behind the vice admiral, Sanji notices the way the soldiers stiffen in place, feeling the pressure on his arms increase; it’s too easy to recognize fear nowadays. The soldiers position him to stand straight, so he can look up at Donquixote when he’s addressed, and it’s painful in the way he can see his own sagging and broken body reflected on the pink glasses looking down on him. Sanji stares at his own expression with defiant anger. His eyes burn a frustrated ceruleum blue hoping he can telepathically tell the big guy to “shove his smug face up his ass and fuck off,” but keeping the eye contact with him meant he had to continue glancing at his disheveled and defeated form. Donquixote grins, and he feels scrutinized behind those glasses slightly jerking upwards as the corners of his mouth reach their eerie wide peak... But his resolve won’t die so easily.
The hollowed pleasantries of the vice admiral put an end to their staring contest as it cuts through the howling wind and sends a shiver down his spine, the hair on the back of his head standing up. It rings teasingly in his ears and oh-so- annoyingly with that matching grin.
“We see each other again, Vinsmoke.”
Don’t let him get to you Sanji, come on.
“Come you two. Bring him inside, let’s get out of this rain.”
Sanji feels himself being lifted once more with renowned vigor. His feet no longer drag too far behind as they move him from the front of the door towards a particular chair that sits in stark contrast with the rest of the wooden furniture in the office. Sanji knew the cuffs on that weren’t going to be left without use for long. Charming setup , he thinks as they roughly handle his arms properly onto the armrests with the built in cuffs so they close snugly against his wrists. The two soldiers dutifully lock the ones over both of his legs as well, and even if Sanji can’t move a single muscle right now, it doesn’t take more than a look to figure out the thick cuffs have at least some sea stone prism to them so they’re harder to break. He liked to think the navy would at least have that amount of caution with him given his rising bounty.
Eyes darting from side to side, Sanji tries to get a layout of the room while he hears the soldiers saluting back to the vice admiral before leaving the room. He has to see if there was anything he could learn or any potential escape routes he could figure out. There wasn't much of notice: the place was spacious and filled with bookshelves, with a tall door leading to what should be the personal quarters of the vice admiral, and across where he was sitting, a huge desk filled with paperwork with an equally imposing seat crowned the office. There were a few smaller windows dotted across the walls where the bookshelves weren’t covering them, and every piece of furniture seemed to be custom built for someone the size of the vice admiral. Seriously, what sort of protein were the marines on? His eyes kept scanning his surroundings while he tried to ignore the looming presence of Donquixote slowly approaching his side. Being tied down to a chair around two high ranking marines wasn’t the best scenario he had in mind, so trying to think of a possible distraction, he eyed Rosinante sitting at the edge of the desk now, fingers playing with the rim of his coat as if he had nothing better to do.
“Rosinante, is the room set up?” The voice boomed behind him, hands teetering over the edge of Sanji’s vision to grip at the sides of the chair he was restrained on.
“Yes, Doflamingo.”
“Good.”
Sanji hadn’t noticed that the sound of the storm outside had died off until his attention was snatched back to reality after seeing Rosinante’s hands moving. The noises of dozens of men running and working on the deck, the sea waves crashing against the ship, the violent rain hitting the warship in full force: everything falls unnaturally silent as he realizes the slow ticking of a grandfather clock behind him and the footsteps of Doflamingo’s shoes over the polished floor were the only things he can hear. The tapping noise of the soles behind him start to move in a circle around him, and he can feel the eyes under those ugly glasses burning into his skull in quiet contemplation. Sanji can’t help but to feel like he’s being circled by a vulture.
“Take a picture asshole, it’s going to last longer,” spits Sanji, getting tired of the wait, of the anxiety in the pit of his stomach and the nerves surging as he still tries and fails to move his body. “Besides, if you were gonna keep me waiting you should’ve gotten me a more comfortable chair.”
Rosinante seems to not mind him, hands fidgeting as if bored with a pristine golden lighter between his fingers. Behind Sanji, the vulture hums as if he had reached a satisfying conclusion. With barely a couple of long strides, both Donquixotes are now positioned in front of him, eyeing him like he’s some sort of prize. With one flick of his fingers, Doflamingo’s threads take away the lighter from Rosinante’s hand and deposit it on his; Sanji can’t help but to squirm on his seat, reminders of their fight still fresh on his memory and flesh. He had seen what that monster could do and, in a certain twisted way, he should be grateful he didn’t lose his legs or any of his fingers in their encounter and only came out with semi-minor injuries.
The vice admiral’s long fingers take their time to find a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, pulling a long and expensive-looking cig from the box and nonchalantly putting it on his lips before the lighter’s ember flicks it to life. A long drag is taken and savored. Sanji can imagine Doflamingo’s lungs filling with the white bitter smoke; with a curse under his breath, he bites the inner side of his lips in frustration. His stare is met by the vice admiral, who curls his lips in a sinister grin before finally speaking in a puff of white.
“Now then, Vinsmoke Sanji. I think I know a person who is very eager to get you back…” Sanji’s stomach drops. “So don’t worry, we’ll make sure you see your family soon enough...”
The world sinks around Sanji as the grinning vulture spews acrid smoke towards his face. His body slumps lifelessly on the chair as a low laughter rumbles in his ears in this room that smells like the nostalgic north.