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King Doflamingo puppeted Law through the castle corridors, and in a cold haze of anger, Sanji silently followed.
Law's head hung down and his eyes were closed. His weight was distributed all wrong, and his limbs didn't move right. The movements were slightly jerky or too swinging; nothing like the lazy, long ambling stride through the street market stalls, or the quick, sharp, movements when he decided he wanted to move and he did .
Sanji could only hope Law was unconscious.
Doflamingo seemed lost in thought, and when he finally pushed open some heavy wooden doors and the movement made him turn slightly, he seemed taken aback to see Sanji standing there, in the black feather coat that until the betrothal ceremony a scarce half-hour ago had been Law's. Doflamingo then chuckled.
"Why not?" he said, more to himself, before opening the doors wide and striding in, Law's body in that unnatural walk coming after. "Come along, little prince Germa, and close the door behind you."
Sanji didn't want to give the impression that Doflamingo could order him around, but he did want to stay near Law, and get him away if possible. He stepped through the doors and nudged it closed with a sweep of his foot behind him, stepping forward to stop the coat from being clipped by the doors.
The room was a mix of a study and a parlour, well-lit from the daylight pouring in through the two large stretches of windows, whose rich red velvet curtains had been pulled back by golden ties. A massive desk and chair before one stretch of windows, and a lonely reading armchair with a small table and lamp stood by the other.
Along the third wall was a set of social armchairs and sofas surrounding a low, coffee table, with a bronze-gold frame and dark stone surfaces. Doflamingo had placed Law on one of these armchairs, arms flopped over the armrests and head lolling. The large man himself was by a beautiful wood and glass liquor cabinet set against the wall, pouring a dark amber liquid into three glasses. The remainder of the wall space was covered by bookshelves and maps, not unlike Law's own rooms.
"First, a toast," he said, holding out a glass to Sanji. "Congratulations on an excellent betrothal."
Playing along, Sanji accepts the glass but he does not smile or drink. He watches to see what Doflamingo would do next.
Doflamingo takes the other two glasses and walks over to Law, pressing one against Law's face.
"Wake up, Law," Doflamingo says. "You're embarrassing us."
With a flick of his fingers, his magic drags Law's body to sit upright, and for a hand to come up to take the glass. Law's eyes open slowly, but remained narrowed.
"Drink," the king commands. "You'll feel better for it."
He sits before Law makes any motion, and he gestures for Sanji to sit as well. Sanji remains standing where he is, just leans against the wall and liquor cabinet, and raises his glass in a mocking toast.
Doflamingo smiles and it is all teeth and no friendliness.
"Very cute," he said. "We see now why Law took a liking to you, but listen well, prince Sanji. We are not an enemy you want to make."
Neither am I, your majesty , Sanji thinks, but outwardly he just smiles.
Doflamingo considers him, and drinks the liquor like it is water. In the chair near him, Law's arm mimics his, and Law sputters and chokes on the liquor.
"Law ought to know this," Doflamingo says, looking over at Law with some facsimile of fondness. He reaches over and ruffles Law's hair as Law glares at him. "But he is stubborn. A trait we don't want entirely extinguished in our heir, you understand. Stubbornness has its time and place." He turned his head back in Sanji's direction. "You seem sensible. Try to remind him."
Sanji raises an eyebrow, though internally, he curses. Does Doflamingo know that Sanji cannot speak only because of the bracelets? Did he suspect that Law had secretly been taking them off for Sanji?
The writing desk catches Sanji's eye, along with the paper, ink and quills there. He helps himself, taking his time to write his letters elegantly even as Doflamingo stares a hole into his back. Sanji then walks over to hand the scrap of paper to Doflamingo. Frowning ever so slightly, Doflamingo takes it.
'He doesn't answer to you,' the note says. 'What makes you think he listens to me?'
After a moment to read this, Doflamingo decides to laugh instead of get angry, and despite himself, Sanji feels a bit pleased at successfully treading that fine line of insulting and getting away with it.
"Ah," Doflamingo sighs, setting his glass down on the table as well, clearly appeased for now. "He doesn't, does he?"
A knock comes on the door.
"Your majesty, an urgent report." A woman's voice that Sanji doesn't recognise, but Doflamingo clearly does.
"Wait for us in the library," he says, raising his voice so she can hear him through the door.
"As you wish," she replies, then there are light footsteps and a flutter of wings.
Doflamingo stands, towering over Sanji.
"Enjoy our study," Doflamingo says. "Do your best with our handful of a crown prince. And congratulations again."
And with that, he left. As the doors swung closed behind him, Sanji caught the languid movement of Doflamingo waving his hand.
Suddenly, Law collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. The mostly empty glass fell to the carpet, bounced, and shattered on the stones, sending shards scattering across the floor to catch the daylight and glisten. Law tipped forward and fell heavily to his knees, his face meeting the low table with a resounding thud.
Sanji winced, and instinctively started forward to help, but Law's hand came up and bade him to stay where he was, so Sanji held back.
Law, trembling, got both hands on the low table and pushed himself back. The fall forward must have made him nick the inside of his mouth or tongue with his teeth, the saliva showing on his bottom lip was tinted red. He made a weak attempt to stand, but fell heavily back on his knees.
Sanji looked away. Law was a proud man, from the little Sanji knew of him so far. Too proud to have help, and too proud to want Sanji here to witness such a pathetic display.
With his face turned away, Sanji offered a hand to help, as mildly as possible.
"No." The word was strained and breathless as Law braced himself on his forearms against the low table and made another attempt to stand.
After what seemed an eternity of Sanji's careful study of the faded titles of the books in the bookshelf, the pained breathing and scuffles of fabric and Law's shoes against the carpet finally stopped. Sanji stole a glance sideways. Law managed to slump backwards in the armchair, right hand clamped to his left arm, forearm pressed to his ribs. His breathing was shallow and when he did take a deeper breath, it caught in his throat with a small sound and he'd wince and press his arm against his ribs harder.
Sanji turned to look at Law, and the question must have showed in his eyes. Can I help?
"No," said Law. "I'm fine."
We must have very different definitions of the word , Sanji thought.
Law managed to gather enough strength to sit up and release his hold on his arm. He summoned a sphere of blue light over himself. Part of the sphere intersected Sanji's leg, and he jerked his leg out of the sphere, the light blue line following the contours of his leg.
However, Sanji's leg and Law's body remained intact. There were a few moments where Law stopped breathing in concentration before he finally sank back into the chair, breathing normally, and the blue sphere snapped out of existence. He looked slightly ashen though, and beads of sweat were on his forehead.
He reached a hand out to Sanji. Instinctively, Sanji took it, expecting to help Law up. Instead, in what was becoming a rapidly familiar sight, his hand popped off with a flash of pale blue, and the bracelet fell onto Law's lap.
"Other hand," Law rasped, roughly pushing Sanji's hand and arm back together. Sanji frowned, reluctantly to let someone who looked that terrible exert themselves further on his behalf, but he did want the bracelets off, so he raised his other hand and Law repeated the process.
"Give me fifteen minutes, then we're getting out of here," Law said, closing his eyes and letting his body lean against the back of the armchair. It exposed the long lines of his throat, and lifted his face to show the sunkenness around his eyes and cheeks.
"I thought you were a dimension mage," Sanji remarked. "What did you do to yourself there?"
"I am a dimension mage. Space manipulation, to be precise," said Law, eyes still closed. "It has very extensive healing applications, if one has the necessary finesse."
Oh, that's valuable , Sanji realised. He could imagine lots of people who would want to have Law as their vassal with such a power. He couldn't imagine that Judge knew about it, or he'd have sent Reiju or Ichiji, their preferences be damned.
"That's not… public information, is it?" Sanji ventured.
"It's not a secret, if that's what you're asking," Law had the audacity to laugh. "Doflamingo made a nation-wide summons for a healing mage, but it was a long time ago. Also, cutting people into pieces and literally uprooting cities tends to be what people focus on, can't imagine why."
"The 'mad and sadistic' reputation is on purpose, then? Fabrication."
"Exaggeration. I don't hate having an excuse to throw things around during negotiations, sometimes. It's funny."
Sanji isn't sure what to make of that, so he searches for another topic.
"What did he do to you?" Sanji asked.
"Do you really want the gory details?" Law snapped, all at once deathly serious and truly angry. "Do you want to know how it feels when your muscles crack your bones and tear against his magic? Do you want to know what blade the king favours when he decides you've committed treason? Do you want to know what other things were in that tower room when I was still kept there?"
A silence.
Sanji was hit by a wave of ...not regret that he asked it, because he wanted to know, it might be helpful to know, but sympathy because it can't be an easy question to answer.
"Stupid question," Sanji admitted. "Sorry."
"Yeah," Law scoffed, but seemed appeased, slightly. Then, sinking further into the chair and not really looking at Sanji, Law remarked, "Thought you would have figured it out, after the rabbit just now."
Sanji recalled the little rabbit in its formal robes, crying and screaming as it was dragged away, and the tin marching band played shakily on.
"What happened to it?" asked Sanji, filled with sudden dread. "The rabbit."
"Destroyed," said Law in a clipped matter-of-fact voice.
Sanji gaped.
"Can't we do something?"
"What would you suggest?" Law answered irritably. "It's just a toy, don't do anything stupid."
(They're just constructs. And what is a construct that doesn't work? Useless boy.)
Oceans abound. Sanji felt sick. The rabbit had been within arm's reach, and Sanji hadn't known.
"It's just a toy," Law repeated but his tone was gentler. "And— it's better for you to keep your head down. Doflamingo does not hesitate to crush those who oppose him. He likes you, so that's a good start, but there's a limit."
"A good start to what?"
Law was unimpressed with Sanji's short tone, and just held up his hand tiredly, the white-silver band on his left ring finger glinted in the light.
"To the rest of your life with me, apparently," he said, sounding as exhausted as he looked.
On Sanji's hand, the matching white-gold band felt heavy and like it would rob his hand of all warmth.