Chapter Text
Perona glides across the dark banquet hall, the trim of her black lace dress barely a few inches above the long empty table. The moon shines through the large windows, painting the dance floor in an icy glow. She hovers for a moment before settling down in silence onto the table top, next to the half bottle of wine, oversized red cushion chair, and her swordsman of a father.
These halls should be filled with music, dancing, food, and laughter, the way she remembered when she was young. Instead they echo the faint repeated clinking of a single wine glass.
"How uncute." She huffs and is ignored, like she's used to. "If you're going to sulk on his birthday like this every year, you should just put more effort into looking for him."
The hand holding the wine glass flinches, and Perona knows she's not being fair. She knows Mihawk has done everything he physically can in search of her baby brother. It's as if Roro vanished into thin air on his eighth birthday.
"Well I'm not giving up." She says to the king's still form. "I'll go ask the spirits one more time."
With that she lifts herself back into the air and makes her way to the wall closest to her chamber.
They both understand that there isn't much point. It's been ten whole years since the disappearance of Prince Dracule Roronoa, and the spirits have given her everything they know and are willing to share. It beats moping about in misery though, the way her father is.
"Rona." Mihawk speaks quietly as she presses a palm through the wall. "You skipped dinner."
She turns to find those harsh gold eyes glowing in the dark, glaring at her accusingly.
"I don't want to hear that from you, poopy head!" She pulls a face and sticks out her tongue before pointedly turning her back on him with a whisk of her long pink curls. Years ago she would've complained about the nickname too, but now she finds a small comfort in the way it matches Roro's. Their poker face father seems to think so too, judging from the way he's taken to calling her that way.
The walk back to her chamber, with all the twisting corridors and winding stairs, would've taken a while in her physical body, but the straight path through the walls is only a couple of minutes long. She returns to her body and gives her beloved Kumashi a tight hug before sending out a handful of her ghosts to invite the nearby spirits. Another few minutes pass before they return.
The first one to arrive is an old acquaintance, a thin and frail looking spirit with long golden blond hair and a pearly white dress that's simple but passably cute.
"Is he overworking himself again? Is he dressed for the winter?" She asks of the princess, and Perona knows she's talking about that young blond, Sanji, who runs the castle kitchen. The woman's spirit has wandered the castle for as long as Perona remembers, always obsessing over the boy.
"He's fine. Old man Zeff may be retired, but he's making sure the boy is taken care of." Perona assures her. "Have you seen a boy with green hair around his age though?"
The spirit gives her a blank stare and slowly shakes her head. It's what Perona expected, but it still takes a bit of force for her to put on an appreciative smile for the woman.
"A green haired boy, you say?" The second spirit slides smoothly through the opposite wall, flashing the princess a freckled grin while pulling a photo from his shorts pocket. His name is Ace, younger than the princess herself when he joined her regular ghostly visitors a couple of years ago. He opens Perona's palm with his free hand and lays the photo on it. "I believe I've found just who you're looking for!"
Perona examines the thin translucent paper, made light enough for a spirit to carry, no doubt the latest New World technology. In the photo is a man with grassy green hair, messy and wild and a few shades lighter than what she remembers of her baby brother. The man looks a few years older than the 18 years old Roro is supposed to be, with clean shaven eyebrows and nose piercing and teeth that look intentionally sharpened to resemble fangs. His long outstretched tongue makes Perona shiver. Decidedly uncute.
"He's the leader of Luffy's fanclub. See, green haired mean-looking boy a bit older than my little brother. Exactly what you said! Now about my reward..." He leans closer with a wink, cold breath frosting the tip of Perona's nose. "I don't ask for much. A small kiss from a beauty like you will suffice."
Perona bats a hand at the spirit, trying to force him away from her face, but her fingers go through Ace as if she's swiping at cold air until she releases one of her ghosts that knocks Ace back by the stomach.
"Ouch, that's cold." He gives a fake whine.
"My baby brother is much cuter than this, you tako head!" She pouts, eyes catching the girl leaning against the wall in silence.
Perona has seen this spirit a few times over the years, a girl in her early teens with short dark blue hair and a plain white shirt. The girl never talks to her, always watching Perona with cautious eyes from where she leans against one wall or another. She doesn't always make an appearance when Perona calls for nearby spirits, but the princess has a sneaking suspicion that she's been here on Roro's birthday each year.
Perona frowns at her for a while, and she glares back, cold and guarded as always. The princess steels herself. Talking to the girl never got much of a reaction, but if she wants to see Roro again, the least she can do is to try.
"Yohohoho!" Brook's laugh cuts her resolution short. The jolly old spirit spins as if he's twirling on legs and gives the princess an exaggerated bow, blocking her view of the girl. "Perona-san, may I see your panties?"
"Ewww, that's gross you dead old weirdo!" Perona shields her face with both arms raised and crossed, sending an army of her ghosts at Brook through her palms. The nimble old spirit manages to dodge the first few, but soon the sheer number overwhelms him, and he is sent through the wall, or would've been if it wasn't for the girl he bumps into along the way.
"Yohohoho... I'm sorry there little miss. Did I hurt you? I should've kept an eye out... except I have no eyes! Yohoho.. Yohohohohoho!!"
The girl gives Brook the same defensive glare she's always giving Perona when the princess tries to talk to her.
"She won't answer you." Perona sighs. "I tried every time she came by."
"Oh I must've missed you then! I've never met you before!" Brook takes the girl's hand sincerely. "May I see your panties?"
"Don't ask her that, pervert! She doesn't even have legs!" Perona aims another one of her ghosts at Brook's head in irritation. "And she only seems to come by on Roro's birthday each year."
The old man turns to Perona with a gasp at that, tilting his skull-like head in thought.
"Prince Roro... is 18 years old today!" He mumbles to himself in soft excitement. "He's... he's an adult now."
The princess watches him and taps her manicured nails against her arm.
"He's an adult, Your Highness! We can find him!" Brook does another legless twirl and gets right up in Perona's space again. "Oh my dear princess, our searching days will soon be over! Let me... let me look up his soulmate right this moment!"
"How will that help?" Perona pushes at him with another ghost.
"Oops! Excuse my rambling, Your Highness! You see, as undignified as I appear I am still, in fact, the King of Souls. I am the one that assigns soulmates to each soul that walks this earth, but with the amount of work that crosses my desk I am simply unable to keep track of all the soulmates I have assigned." He tails off to a mumble again as he conjures up a thick tethered book and begins flipping the frail pages. "Now, his name should appear here on his 18th birthday..."
"That does not answer my question." Perona prompts.
"Ahh, forgive me, princess! You see, once assigned, soulmates experience a constant pulling to each other all their lives, a convenient mechanism to help them find each other. It's said to be faint, easily drowned out by one's desires in the world, but with concentration and a bit of training, anyone can learn to... Oh here it is."
Brook side tracks again, translucent finger stopping on a page of the torn book.
"Here... Dracule Roronoa... aka Zoro, born on the 11th day of November in the year 1132. Soulmate's name... V-Vin-... No, Bl-... Hmm... There's a smudge on the family name, but it looks like the given name is... S-... Sanji, born on the 2nd day of March, also in the year 1132."
"Sanji?" Perona repeats mindlessly, catching the blond lady's wide eyed surprise as she looks around the room. "Our head chef Blackleg Sanji?"
"The birthday is his." The frail woman gives a nod.
"Guards! Call for Sanji!" Perona commands, swallowing and tightening her hug on kumashi in nervous excitement at the prospect of hope.