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Sabo hates how he’s become everything he’d feared. He grows up in ivory walls, marble floors and more gold than the world could afford. He grows up on heaven indulging himself in the best foods that a dragon could want. He grows up without going hungry but still knowing he should want more. He grows up with everything he could ever want, he grows up receiving anything he wants. He grows up smarter than the average folk of Sabody. He grows up faster than the elder stars like but just slow enough that he can’t be considered a threat.
Sabo hates how the world is run but falls into practice while indulging in the very things that cause it. He asks more about the world and he is told it in fine gold print, with pristine books and scripts kept perfectly. They’re unable to gain what they want, and for the first time Sabo realises that there is something he wants but can never have. He reads the book over and over again, the small print is scratchy and ragged but every word gives him more joy than anything else he’s had in his life. He yearns for a world he can never be in.
Sabo hates how he is powerless despite having all the power he could. He is at the top of the food chain. He if he truly desired could destroy the world if he so pleases despite the fact that even he has superiors. His kind is cruel and selfish but he can’t help but still call them his brethren, for they are all he knows in this world. He was yet to see the sympathy that the book speaks of. He wonders if perhaps he feels this sympathy, the empathetic connection to the slaves.
Sabo hates how little he feels around Im. It’s like he’s the freest he’s ever been but also the most trapped and caged. As if his every move is being decided for him. Yet, he can not fight back. He has gotten used to such an oppressive force that weighs over him when he’s in Im’s presence. A part of him knows that Im would never hurt him with it. That he in fact lessens the pressure when he walks into the chambers. He knows deep down that for some unknown reason, the immortal, the monster, a man who had conquered all there is to conquer, has decided that he is worth being by his side.
Sabo hates how no matter how much he tries he can’t stop smiling. It’s almost as if he’s never been sad. Never cried. Never yearned. Never died. Sabo hates the face in the mirror. He knows it all too well and still feels like it’s unknown to him. He as much as he knows that it’s him also knows that the person he is is not who he is.
Sabo hates how Dragon has come to look at him, as if he isn’t something that never should have been. He’s not a hero. He’s a part of the system that created this mess in the first place. He’s owned slaves before. He’s killed ruthlessly. He’s worked his way up into power with the elder stars. He has manipulated those around him, created his image to best benefit himself. He has abandoned his brothers to focus on being perfect to the elder stars. It does not matter that none of this was done for him, but rather to destroy himself.
Sabo hates how he’s manipulated people into caring for him. Dragon has taken to greeting him with an embrace, he holds no recollection on this type of greeting and the meaning it holds but it seems to hold no negative implications so he allows it to be done. Koala has come to enjoy being around him as she so says but he can’t help but still hate himself for his part in her past. Hack has been training him regularly and even indulges his questions on the fishermen species. Ivankov loves styling his hair, but most of all takes pleasure in brushing his hair, scratching at his scalp as they do so. He doesn’t know what all of this means but he knows that they look at him with sadness when he says as much.
Sabo hates that for not a single moment of his life he’s himself. He doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t know what he needs. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. Because if he does he knows it’ll be the end of him. It will no longer be him and he’ll fade. Everything will stop and his smile will pause. He will be broken and he will be imperfect. He can’t afford that so far into the game. Not when a single move will cost him his smile.
Sabo hates how there's a stranger in the mirror. He holds his hand hovering just above the surface. It ripples and is malformed. It’s crumbling and is reformed. He is a monster made of decor. He is nothing more than a being at the edge of life's door.
Sabo hates how he’s unable to do anything but smile and play into others' games. He can challenge the world all he wants but the most he can do is form the relationships needed for such a feat and let them do the work for him. He can only smile and parade around as a fool to others. Letting them think the worst of him before he leaves with only the worst of him.
Sabo hates how in the end he’ll still be the one standing on the side of the victors. How he will change this world to condemn him but the side he’s chosen will not let him fall. They would rather choose to make them part of their wall. They say they know who he is but how could they when he wasn’t supposed to be what they see, he doesn’t know what they see but he knows that’s not him they perceive.
His story starts like this. He is born, anatomically, as a female. It doesn’t hinder him in the slightest in terms of movement. However in his social standing depending on who he is with, he may be lesser than them. He is one of the highest beings in this universe and it is a fact everyone knows. What they don’t know is the mishaps that begin behind doors. For a female celestial dragon like him to be so brazen in nature others call him a prude and mistaken in his calling. But he knows better than all these rules that govern the highest. He is a monster in its making and he is the Frankenstien. The whole concept of being made to him is amusing as if anyone around should have that right but him, though even then he knows that the mere thoughts he has are in itself a product of his making. He is more than he thinks. This world was made to cater to them, he is told this throughout his entire life and he is made aware of simply through being. The people around them do not dare hide their fear for even with their masks someone like Sabo can tell the difference with a glance. There are some, however, that defy this. Such beings that are said to be inferior to the dragons and constantly challenge the order simply through being are the pirates. Some align themselves to the world government in return for leeway. However others carry a name that strikes fear in the immortal soul of the dragons. They are gods and yet Sabo does not know what it’s like to be human. He feels that if he were to be a god that he in his essence should know what it’s like to be a human. Yet. He knows none of this. So he seeks to find answers in any book he can find. He isn’t told outright that this is unpresented behaviour but he can feel the stares. They can’t bother him anyways. It is only when he goes further into the lost books does he find the ones that begin to crack his world. They make dents and curves in what was once his linear life. He is a god, but he is also a human. They rule above others but in the end what defines them as different is their lineage of which holds no meaning. He still doesn’t know what it means to be human. He doesn’t know if he ever will.
A few years later when he is seven there is a break out, and he knows that it’s possible. That the heaven he lives in isn’t impenetrable. That you can in fact break out. That freedom can be found for those who grovel under the halls. His heart is racing but this is his only chance. In the fire and confusion he’ll do it. And before he fully comprehends it, he's on the bottom floor, the dungeons swiping the keys and trying to open the locks and shackles. They all look at him in fear and they’ve begun to shift away when a smaller child, with matted hair and very dim eyes looks into his own. He opens his hand and raises it. They brace themselves but still do not move, holding their hands out in that same pose. He drops the keys in her hands. Being careful to avoid touching them. And says, “Take your chance, be free and never look back. Do not survive, live”. And like a tsunami they flood the gates, seep into the ground and move faster than they should be able to, if not for the fear of death, or rather the outcome if they’re unable to escape.
Sabo does not know what happens to the girl but he knows that the gorosei have begun looking at him with consideration as he explains his pr plan. The elders are pleased. The slaves are freed. Sabo wonders what happened to the girl.
He later finds out through word of mouth. He also finds out about fishertigers death and while he did not mourn the man, he felt an absence in what he perceived to be his plans. It takes a month for him to realise that he’d been hoping to one day meet Fisher-tiger and tell him of his story, to learn, to have the world know that there are people on all sides hoping for a new world. Sabo learns that he can grieve someone he does not know.
It’s only in the private chamber of his hall where he is able to break. Hidden away in his closet. Buried beneath his clothing after making a fake child to take his presence in bed. It’s here that he sits and does not shed a tear. He is unable to cry but this sadness is not one that can be kept in. Who is he to judge emotion?
The years go by slower and slower. Each day is a new challenge. Progressively the idea of seeking information through balls and tea parties becomes a nuisance not a necessity like he so wishes it were. But unfortunately he has not been given clearance of any kind to leave even for a short break so he continues to party. The elder stars are impressed with his progress in asserting himself into the geopolitical state of the world. His trade system is astoundingly efficient and if anyone has realised the slaves he’s been sneaking out under this, well, no one says anything.
The elder stars have granted him more leniency, giving their permission for official envoys as the potential elder stars member to attend political meetings. He attends the debutante as the main star. An unseen member of the celestial dragons and an unofficial elder stars is enough for him to draw the attention of the world. He does not tell dragon about this. He doesn’t want to, just for tonight to have to collect information, to hold yet another smile for the sake of pleasantries. Tonight he has one purpose and one purpose alone and this is something he as the main head of the donquixote family has to do. He may not have been born a lady but tonight he must become one. Even if it hurts him to do so. The dress is stifling but still just comfortable enough that tonight he can survive. The corset has bite but years of exposure has given him a naturally composed reaction. The maids say nothing when he dismisses them to dress himself. He is grateful.
He glides across the floor, entertaining the guests but only for a few minutes each. He must not show favouritism and weakness. He has to survive tonight.
The air in the ballroom is filling and humid. All their faces have begun to blur and everything is becoming hazy. The champagne in his hand feels all too heavy despite being barely filled. Letting out a sigh he falls back against the wall. By now the guests are fumbling about, too drunk and too ignorant to anything but that. He himself is bordering the line of pretending to do such but retaining his dignity and poise. A person like himself must not be caught doing such things, not when his position is built on such appearances that he has to emulate.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small black shadow flapping its wings. With a wave of her arms the guards vacate him and allow for the illusion of privacy. She walks out onto the balcony. Holding herself with her head high. Arms seated cosily underneath her bust and the dress billowing around her. Staring at the crow Sabo allows herself to hold her breath. Sighing she turns around with a flutter of the trailing and makes way to the centre of the floor. The bird follows her movements from the outside. She makes her final round, she dances a little more and signals her return to her room. The elder stars allow for her to leave with a look of approval. She smiles, small and graceful with the barest twitch in her disposition.
She walks in long and elegant strides, emphasising on her power as the doors open for her. She does not hear the flapping of wings. She does not see a shadow in the window. She does not see the glint in its eyes.
Standing before her door she has no room for hesitance. She opens it with practised movements, not robotic but lacking the same posture her previous actions held. She steps in, locking the door behind her, and walks to the mirror, the closet, her bed, her baths, her clothes and her desk. She knows her library is untouched but by the time she is done there are a number of small robotic eyes staring at her. She has passed yet another test and has lessened the bars on her window.
She opens the doors to her balcony. She doesn't feel a flutter as air rushes through her room. She does not hear the cluster of birds that fly past her. She doesn’t feel anything. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to feel. But. She turns and drapes herself across the lounge. She doesn’t gather herself. She does not change out of the dress. She’s holding herself together. She has to.
When the birds flew in, the eyes had flown out. Taking them with gusts of wind and letting them take flight with wings. Disabling their recording functions but still retaining the connection and memory. She hopes they never see the light of day again.
She knows better than to hope.
Looking at the person in front of her with a sense of detachment she prepares for the punishment. Tonight she fulfilled the wishes of the elder stars, she abandoned her duty to the revolution for the sake of her own survival. She’s been too selfish tonight. He’s left himself vulnerable to attacks from people he could never hurt, he would never strike them. But, the proof is right in front of him. Karasu never lets them see what he’s feeling but tonight. Tonight he is stern, frowning through his mask, eyes firm and unmoving. He is waiting for Sabo to explain themselves tonight. She will not break. He will not move.
They drop from their perch and settle to the ground. She kneels and he grovels. They do not apologise, they know better than to garner sympathy. They know better than to ask forgiveness they do not deserve. So they state their actions, and are aware just vaguely that they ask and await their punishment. They hear no noise and see nothing but her carpeted floor. She does not dare lift her head. Karasu is silent.
He is silent and he does not move. If they dared to guess they’d say that he’s unsure of what to say and hurt her with. He isn’t silent for much longer. He stands up and wanders to her desk. Perhaps he grabs a book and something heavy. Maybe one of her sharper pens or even a quill. She knows what they feel and sound like but what she does hear is his footsteps.
They are hard and thumping. Drawing out the steps as if to create tension and suspense. She is aware. He resigned. They are without hope. They rationalise that they will not discard her knowing her worth to them.
Karasu stops before them. They are silent and unmoving. It’s unnerving from someone who in their presence at least has more life in them. He doesn’t dare breathe in fear they’d flinch. But all he can focus on is their figure, shivering slightly and knows that if he doesn’t do something soon, there’ll be no one left in the palace by the end of the night.
Approaching closer now the shivering becomes more and more clear. With trembling fingers of his own he lays his hand in front of them. Waiting for their eyes to meet his. He waits and waits when finally a very small tilt of their head allows for them to meet. He opens his hand and sees them flinch. His blood boils and he can’t help but narrow his eyes when they freeze. He drops the paper in front of her, a den den mushi on the end of it with a small and tension filled smile. It takes everything in him to not reach out and comfort them. He has to wait for them to respond.
They look up at him and his heart stops. Their eyes hold no emotion and their smile is back in place. She does not read the letter. He does not even try to accept it. They are unmoving and ready for what is waiting.
Karasu, like his comrades, has grown fond of Sabo. No one really knows how, especially considering the way their world has pitted them. However Sabo has their own charm. They’re intelligent, caring and calculative.They bring new and fresh information, they’re insightful and have a wonderful disposition as well as the way they brighten up the room. Despite this all, they are cruel and cold in nature, unable to understand the basics of what it means to be human. When faced with challenging ideals they rationalise as if the pieces they speak of are not humans. They’re unknowing of the ironic oxymoron they are living, a contradiction of logic and an agreement of reason.
They now in his arms feel for once like the 17 year old they are. He is frightened, in honesty, by the sheer fact that he’s sure no one in the revolutionary army had picked up on this. Sure, they know the important facts, the minor details but never once as Sabo expressed their grievances with the system. Never once had they fully given their motives. They proved themselves through their actions, letting the army reluctantly fall back on them but. They, alone, in this palace of hell, have survived for 17 years and found them. Karasu knows that they may never be told just what happens in this palace but they know that one day Sabo will be able to walk freely. To wear what they want, to feel how they want and maybe just maybe feel a little more human.
Trembling they peel themselves away. She’s unharmed but something feels wrong. Like they’ve forgotten something and it’s uncomfortable. Like an unbearable feeling that she’s about to disappear. She feels her chest coil and something in her shifts. Something saying that they don’t have to be her anymore. At least for now.
When he realises just where he is- that being in Karasu’s arms he pushes himself away. Smiling in apology Sabo removes himself from the ground- or at least tries to. The corset, still biting into his skin and the dress dragging him down with its weight.
It hurts. Everything hurts. As if he isn’t himself tonight he watches the memories as if he weren’t there. Gods what is he doing. “Sorry Karasu-san, it seems I’m unable to move for now so I’ll have to request you to rise on your own this time.” And if Karasu is angered by these words he does not show it. He still holds onto his shoulders. His grip is slack but still strong.
Karasu has long since given up on praying to gods but at the sheer expression on Sabo he might just do so. His face shows nothing, his eyes are dense and his posture is open but he knows better. He won’t push it tonight. Not when he’s close to breaking. But he’ll wait until he’s ready. Gathering Sabo in his arms, Karasu despite Sabo’s protests carries him to the curtain and shoves his clothes at him. The clothes picked at random are seemingly loose enough to be comfortable on Sabo.
When Karasu drops him behind the curtain with a set of clothing, he is, to say, baffled. Paying it no mind as of now he falls into practice. Sucking in his breath and finding his way to the end of the corset. He feels his chest constrict as it comes undone. He doesn’t feel free but he can breathe easier now. His hands cup at his chest and they stay, holding himself trying to ground himself. Every breath he takes feels more shaky than the last. His vision blurs and he has to sit on his chair. He doesn’t know how or why but his clothes are off of him at once and he’s grasping at the new set that's been given. His breaths do not increase in pace but they do not decrease either. When he is fully dressed he realises Karasu has been unnaturally silent, even more so than usual.
It’s not unexpected that Karasu leaves, after all he is a busy person. Tonight wasn’t a personal visit. And there most likely won’t ever be one but something in him hurts at the idea of being left. Never minding his own thoughts he opens the curtains and there he is. Waiting by her bed, he sits there on one of the many chairs littered but posed around her room. He waits until she seats herself upon her bed. Opening his hand he reveals the den-den that he’d placed on the ground.
“Dragon has asked me to give this to you. When you’re feeling up to it, he’s asked for you to call.” …When he’s feeling up to it?... Does that imply that as he is now isn’t up to it? Is there something wrong? Has he done something? Please someone just tell me what I have to do? He may not have it in himself to smile but he supposes the look in his eyes are enough for Karasu tonight. With one last embrace A small part of him whispers that this is called a hug he opens her window and in a flurry of small bursts allows himself to leave.
When he is fully gone she one again searches the room. Sabo doesn’t let this bother her that there may be a newfound distrust as if they’d ever done so in the first place, do not forget what you are. Once the search is over Sabo lets out a breath, it doesn’t rake against her ribs but it feels as though it does all the same. She hears the rasp of knuckles against her door.
“Come in”
When the slave trudges in she realises just what she’s in for. Tonight has gone far too splendidly in her opinion and in terms of the ball it’s a complete success so an awarding and subsequent ball should be in order. Judging by the very tall tower of letters she’s been scouted or rather politely informed of several such events for someone of her standing. Opening her hand she accepts the letters and dismisses the slave. She can’t afford to allow people to see her in such a state for very long.
Glancing at her bed, then to her desk she sighs and makes her way forward.
In the morning she’s riddled by the sheer amount of letters she’s yet to answer. Looking in the mirror she shrugs and moves on. She’d gotten a decent amount of work done before she’d needed to stop. Holding the brush in her hand she thinks on and on about her standing.
As a dragon she is unusual, knowledgeable and always upholding what it means to be above the others. As a revolutionary outlier she is the one who they turn to for internal information, for the structuring of what is the current system and helping build a new one. She doesn’t belong in any of those worlds but for just a moment she can see herself in both. He isn’t amused by this thought knowing one way or another they’d destroy themselves in the process. And isn't that for the better.
The denden sits in her desk, hidden in a small satchel filled to the brim with candied plums. They’re a favourite of hers and she’d never imagined her unsightly fixation with them would ever come in handy like this.
It takes a month for her to call Dragon. It takes 3 for them to meet in person again. It takes 5 meetings and a call before they’re ready to meet again. He never leaves the meetings without embracing him, he never asks about what happened that night she assumes he knows, she assumes he’s bidding his time to remove her once she’s exhausted her usefulness. He doesn’t question this, it does admittedly bring comfort and a warm feeling that he’s unsure of. When he says as much the corner of his lips turns up and Sabo feels like a child being praised. That day he ruffles his hair and moves him along saying he can train and to stay safe, praying he hopes he’ll never see the scars.
The training room is spacious and feels so bright that it’s spellbinding. Koala and Hack are already sparring on the mats but even just stretching on the side feels more free than sitting in that stifling hall.
Unknown to him Koala and Hack are discussing his behaviour. It’s a strange dance of words that have more bite and strength than their limbs but it works all the same.
It’s hours before Sabo is required to leave. He packs his things into the small bag he’d been able to sneak out. Straps it to his thigh and makes his way out. As he passes through the halls he exchanges few to no greetings. Because despite it all he is a part of the system they hate, a celestial dragon and a woman who has owned slaves. Sabo doesn’t let this bother him, he’s lived his whole life like this, with stares and judgements alike. It’s nothing new but in the one place where he can start to breathe it feels like it should hurt. After all he is a celestial dragon.
Dragon embraces him at the door, passing on files and moving on. Sabo walks out the cove. He’s transported and moved faster than normally possible with the aid of Kuma. But. Either way he is on time and he’s about to have a meeting with the elder stars. It is now he will propose the new regime for the prospective members of the gorosei. For the first time since their initial group screening Sabo will reunite with them. With baited breath and no hesitation he opens the door.
Taking in the room with an air of confidence he allows her smile to come forth. Her dress is impeccable and her hair is done just right. There is a thin sheet of makeup reapplied but other than that there is no such blemishes that should dissatisfy her peers.
The first she recognises holds no recognition of her. Remembering instead a blonde child. The others may not realise it but Sabo does, he can see the way his eyes flicker through her and dissect everything there is. His hands rasp against the table and his foot shifts.