A/N: Attention please!!

Okay, one of my awesome reviewers has brought up a really important question. Will there be smut??? Honestly, I'm not quite sure myself. It all depends on what my readers want. If you want smut, you'd better tell me now so I can go back and change the rating. Oh yeah, that's another thing. If you tell me "hell yah i wantz smut!!1 bring it on n00b!" you might want to include what rating I'd have to put on here. Smut or no smut? That is the question...

Ohmigosh, I completed another chapter. I'm so proud of myself haha! There's a lot more of Sanji's point of view in this one. I rushed. And it shows. It shows terribly. But... oh well. :D

He had fallen into a deep, disturbed sleep where dreams of darkness plagued him constantly, transcending time and space. Nothing seemed real anymore. He was drifting, on the verge of waking and death. The only rock he found he could cling to was the memory of Zoro, of his strength and his reliability. He didn't know why the marimo came to mind so easily. Nami should have been top priority but whenever Sanji tried to think of her she slipped from his reminiscences like tiny grains of sand through his fingers. Zoro was different. Zoro, he could hold onto.

He hated it.

The feeling of helplessness, of complete ignorance. He resented how it controlled him. He wasn't used to being so hopeless. He was a fighter, and he was used to fending for himself, but here he couldn't do anything. He couldn't trust his body anymore.

"…hurricane took most of his livestock. Aer must be getting impatient."

"Relax. He's in prime condition. She'll… enjoy this one. Try calling his name…"

Zoro was moving farther and farther away from his reach as Sanji began to resurface to consciousness. He reached out in vain to grab him but Zoro turned into a balloon, a green balloon, and he soared up into the vast sky where he could never be followed…

"Sanji."

The voice was tender and voluminous, nudging him awake in careful increments. It was gentle and soft and Sanji felt at peace with it at once, wondering who it belonged to and why he was being beckoned in such a pleasing, intimate way. A slow warmth spread along his limbs, originating from his heart with an uncomfortable pressure that soon lessened as the sensation rippled throughout his chest like shockwaves, traveling with each beat of his escalating pulse.

"Sanji, wake up."

Heat flooded his cold skin, bringing a healthy dose of color to his pale, sickly flesh. He could breathe more normally, and his body felt lighter. The unfamiliar voice soothed his jittery nerves as a sense of raw energy scraped against his natural instincts, flowing to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"Come home, Sanji. Come home."

Deep underground in a temple's hidden tomb, Sanji opened his eyes.

He was becoming exhausted. His lungs felt as though they were being squeezed in a giant hand and oxygen was growing harder to attain, though it should have been plentiful. His swords weighed ten times as much as they really did, dragging him down into the water by means of his hip.

But he was almost there. He had yet to look back at the ship and the crewmates he had left behind, choosing instead to focus on what lay before him. The massive hurricane whirling in front of Zoro's eyes was daunting. Its sheer power shook the seabed itself, and the waves Zoro faced were steadily growing more and more restless.

As he drew nearer, he could have sworn there was something strange about the raging storm. Its winds were sharp and full of malice, leaving a ringing in his ears that wailed like the lamenting moans of something not quite man or woman, but human all the same. The closer he got, the louder they became, and it got easier to distinguish separate, individual voices within the clustered howls. They were mournful and keening, full of wretchedness and misery.

Zoro gritted his teeth and tried blocking them out, but it was a useless endeavor when fresh cries of utter anguish pierced through his mind at frequent intervals, effectively jarring his thoughts.

He reached the churning waves at the absolute edge of the hurricane, feeling his legs dance in the water like some twisted version of a puppet and its puppeteer. He gulped in air, as much as he could hold, and dove, forcing himself deeper into the ocean where the hurricane could not touch him. His eyes blinked, the sea a sinister blur before him. He swam for as long as he dared, the dull roar engulfing him completely. Even the water seemed to have voices that pealed from the precious bubbles of air escaping his lips.

Not enough, they wept. Never enough. Go away, turn back. Why have you come? Nothing awaits you here…

Feeling lightheaded and dizzy, Zoro began to lose his bearings. His stomach lurched uneasily, a solid burden settling in the pit of his belly. Which way was up? Which way was down? He felt an underwater current tug lazily at his clothes and he wanted more than ever to breathe again. Against his better impulse, he let the current lead him. Where, he didn't know.

Suddenly, he rushed to the surface--cool, clean air hit his face as he rolled, dripping, onto the shore. He gasped for air, taking a moment to check that his swords were still intact. He almost thought he had gone deaf when he realized that heavy rain pummeled the ground around him inside the hurricane, eroding the sand and dirt in total silence.

But then Zoro heard a small, tinkling resonance in the noiseless calm. It was the sound of a young child laughing. Confused, he shook his head, his earrings clinking together.

The light laughter faded quickly, drowning into the background of the roaring rain. He was already soaked to the bone, growing a chill in his damp attire as the icy raindrops burned skin where they landed. Zoro dragged himself to his feet and started running. He shrugged off his fatigue with considerable effort and headed directly for the village, thinking only of Sanji.

The houses were stony and foreboding, their doors barred and their windows shut tight. He had no idea where to start searching. The wind was so powerful, it tested his sheer strength and made it difficult to walk straight. Being blinded by the rain was no help; Zoro shielded his face with one arm, struggling to see the road ahead of him. Worst of all, the voices had returned, even more deafening and shriller than before. They screamed questions at him. Questions he had no answers to.

Why? Why?

Has it come to this?

Are you afraid?

What's wrong?

Why?

Then they grew demanding. Desperate.

Love me! Love me!

Zoro stumbled and fell to his knees. His head throbbed furiously, rendering him thoughtless and unable to speak. He felt nauseous, tasting bile in the back of his throat. The mental and physical attack had been instantaneous and totally unprovoked. What was happening? Surely he couldn't have been struck ill by the voices themselves. They didn't even exist. They were only incomprehensible figments of his imagination.

…Weren't they?

Teetering on the brink of blacking out, Zoro just managed to feel the touch of a ghostly hand firmly grasp his own before he fully vanished into unconsciousness.

"Greetings, Sanji."

He was such a gentle soul, with large, quixotic eyes that always seemed unfocused, staring through him instead of at him. A faded scar across his high cheekbone disfigured his otherwise handsome face. His hair was as white as driven snow, matching the pale, robin's egg blue that shaded his irises. He gazed softly at Sanji before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Sanji nearly shifted away at the unfamiliar, doting gesture but the youth was so effeminate that he remained still, marveling at the feel of his lips against his skin.

"Who are you?" he asked at last. "Why…?"

The stranger bowed. "I am Kilo." A polished choker circled his delicate neck, embedded with a single diamond of unnatural quality. It gleamed in the dim light, casting flecks of silver over his dark, creamy skin. In contrast, the remainder of his attire consisted of a servant's apparel that exposed much of his torso and illuminated the appealing slant of his hipbones. He smiled benignly. "I am to prepare you for the celestial inauguration."

"The what?" Sanji moved to sit up and Kilo immediately placed a supportive hand on his back, helping him into a comfortable position. Dumbfounded at this obsequious, kind behavior, Sanji blinked in perplexed astonishment as Kilo knelt at his side and gazed at him attentively. His fawning, doe eyes were humble and submissive.

"You have been chosen to be Aer's bridegroom."

Sanji froze. "What?"

Kilo continued in a moderate tone, "That is why you have been kept in this temple. It is sacred ground, meant purely for Aer's favored ones. I am your elected attendant. Please consider me your slave." He tilted his head. "Do with me as you wish."

Sanji shook his head, aghast. "That can't be right. You've got the wrong guy--I mean, I'm not even an Elreiyian. You're no one's slave. And I'm not getting married."

Kilo listened to him in silence. Raising a slender finger, he traced the veins in Sanji's wrist, following the curve of his arm to his shoulder. "You've already been marked," he murmured.

Sanji looked at himself for the first time since he had awoken from his confinement. His eyes widened. Translucent tattoos swirled over his arms and chest, shimmering like the scales on a fish. In some places they were golden, in others an array of subdued, dappled colors that dissipated in certain angles of light. They traveled the length of his stomach in complex designs, an intricate pattern laid over his bellybutton like the fine, lacy threads on a spider web. He rubbed at them experimentally, but it seemed they had been etched into his skin.

The permanence slightly annoyed him.

"I have to get back to my friends," Sanji said.

Kilo lowered his gaze. "They've left."

Stunned, Sanji couldn't properly respond for a moment. "That's… They wouldn't do that."

Kilo didn't answer, but he watched as Sanji stood up and looked around at the waxy, stone walls of the dim room.

"Where am I?" he wanted to know.

"This is an underground temple built in honor of Aer."

"And Aer is…"

"She is our goddess. Queen of Elreiya. Aer has been in search of a king to her realm for a long while. Someone worthy enough to bear the title of ruler over Elreiya."

Sanji's fingers twitched, flicking an imaginary lighter, and he wished he knew where his old clothes were. As it was, he was garbed in a simple garment of linen that tied around his waist and bared his chest. The place where he had been reserved was somewhere further below the ground, closer to the heart of the temple. He was barely conscious when he had been whisked off into another section of the domain.

"Well, I'm sorry, but she'll have to find someone else." He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not ready for that kind of commitment." He chuckled mirthlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kilo cocked his head to the side, his eyes two endless pools of melancholy indifference. They were soft and beseeching, holding a certain breakability, like roses kissed by frost. It was unnerving, but peaceful at the same time. Sanji cast his gaze elsewhere, unsure of himself.

"How do you get out of here?" he asked.

Kilo pointed to a narrow entryway at the corner of the room that led to a winding staircase. "If you choose to depart, that exit will take you to the forest of Elreiya."

"Then I'll be leaving," Sanji sighed, glancing at the serene youth on his way to the egress awaiting him. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he caught up with Luffy and the others. He cringed at the thought of Nami's wrath, but wondered whether anyone would have truly missed him.

Kilo looked at him mutely, as blank as a sheet of paper. "I am not at liberty to stop you," he whispered.

Sanji hesitated; there was something in his voice that he couldn't solve, but he stepped forward.

The very instant he crossed the threshold, there was a sharp intake of breath, and Sanji felt an inexplicable jolt run lightning thrills through his spine. He spun around to catch a glimpse of Kilo collapsing, his legs giving way beneath him. The illustration of agony written on his acquiescent face was unmistakable as he fell to the ground, and Sanji quickly went to his side, alarmed.

"Oi." He laid his knuckles on Kilo's forehead, probing for signs of a fever. "Oi, you okay?" Kilo was curled in on himself, trembling under Sanji's touch. He cradled his ribs, bottling up his whimpers and valiantly fighting back the tears that threatened to overflow. Furrowing his brow, Sanji gently shifted the servant's shivering arms back to reveal his torso and he hissed in dismay.

An exact replica of Sanji's tattoo began to rise from underneath Kilo's skin, glowing with a heat so intense it hurt just to be near it. The flesh within proximity of the inked script crackled and burned, growing red and irritated at the scorching torture. It split, bled, and scarred, leaving raw streaks of pain on the quaking, tormented soul. Kilo bit down on his lip to keep from crying out and the letterings presently disappeared from his sore body, fading leisurely back into his skin and taking with them the inflicted wounds.

Sanji watched in shock as his ragged breathing slowed, aggrieved eyes adopting a glassy look from the excruciating aftermath.

"You…" A horrible realization dawned on Sanji. "You're my whipping boy."

Kilo gazed up at him with those unconditional orbs, words poised on the edge of his lips. Sanji shook his head imploringly and Kilo remained quiet.

"If I leave this place, you'll die," he concurred slowly, fearfully, "won't you?"

Kilo nodded once, his face as smooth as still water.

Sanji fell back heavily. Oh, God…

After a tense minute or two, he stared at the youth's impassive figure, noting the way his features took on a soft, feminine appearance following a mellow smile that made his heart twinge with the essence of how vulnerable it was. If he left, it would be just as good as murder. He couldn't kill this innocent existence, this fragile boy. It would be devastating. His head slumped forward into his hands, flaxen hair falling over austere eyes.

"You're so young," was all he could groan sorrowfully through his fingers. "Jeezus…" He exhaled abrasively. "I need a cigarette."

Kilo stood, his stance tentative as he tested the strength of his limbs. He extended a hand.

"Come."

Sanji accepted the gesture and was led out into a conjoining hallway. Studying the floor as they walked, he found that Kilo's nails were a lovely tint of ivory and lavender, his fingers like chocolate against vanilla in Sanji's pale hand. Their bare feet padded silently through the cold chambers until they reached a point where the light gradually became brighter as the pair went along. Arriving at a set of tall, golden, double doors, Kilo released Sanji's hand to ease them both open.

The room was expansive and airy, embellished with flowing drapes that concealed walls instead of windows. A vase of peacock feathers had been set on either side of the bed. Everything held a sense of balance and symmetry that was attractive and subtly pleasing to the eye. Marble pillars stood guard at each corner, and an ornate mirror directly faced the sleeping accommodations, its vast surface clear and almost transparent.

"This will be your living quarters for the time being." Kilo inclined his head in the general direction of the bed. "You must be tired. Please, try and rest."

There was nothing else to do. Sanji obeyed, crossing the floor to the crisp, silk sheets. Unrushed, he slipped under a coverlet that was buttery soft, made from a luxurious fabric that he couldn't quite define. It slid deliciously over his lithe body and the cook was abruptly aware of how tired he really was. He jumped a little when a curtain of darkness swept across the room and Kilo climbed in next to him, murmuring an apology. Warm hands gently massaged his shoulders before wrapping around his abdomen. Kilo lay his forehead on Sanji's nape, shy lashes brushing over skin.

Sharing body heat was a considerably beneficial idea, and for some reason Sanji found that he really didn't mind. He had a fleeting notion that he could pretend it was a woman whose arms were so devotedly holding him secure. Regarding the circumstances, the close contact was a bit more than he would have preferred, but he discovered he didn't have the resolve or desire to tell Kilo. The servant was admittedly beautiful, having a sort of yielding grace that made him impossibly endearing. Somehow, being in his presence had a soothing effect.

Sanji thought of his comrades and contemplated the possibility of them sailing on to the next island without him. It was a depressing thought. Luffy would no doubt eat all the food--a supply that was meant to last the crew a good week and a half until the next stop--and there would be no one to protect the kitchen from his thieving rubber paws. Nami and Robin would have no one to wait on them. Usopp would be without a conversationalist, and Chopper would have one less person to hear compliments from. Zoro…

Lying there in bed with Kilo's heartbeat to keep him company, Sanji closed his eyes and resigned himself to a dreamless slumber.

Zoro, where are you?

A/N: Thanks for reviewing, my lovely readers! :3 Remember, if you have an opinion on the smut matter... feel free to express it. Should Sanji top? Or bottom? Because at the rate I'm writing, they're only going to get their freak on once and it better be good. xD Personally, Zoro is more of a seme to me... But whatever!

Oh God all my male OCs are freaking girly...

Haha, I love you Kilo~ :P