Author's Note: WARNING This chapter is a bit more blunt about Sabo's situation and how people perceive him. One derogatory use of the word whore.
"But Gramps! It's SABO!" screamed Luffy, as soon as Garp released his face as they plunged into the Forest Between.
"I know!" Garp shouted back, finally slowing down. "And if you keep screaming he's gonna get killed!"
That finally shut him up, his jaw audibly clacking shut and those huge eyes turning up at him in panic.
Luffy responded best to honesty. Not always in the way you wanted, but always better than if you'd tried to lie to him. Garp was the same. (Except when it came to his grandsons wanting to be pirates. Ugh.) So, after a moment to somewhat organize his thoughts, he set his grandson down and laid out the facts.
"He's a slave, Luffy. If he doesn't obey, he gets his head blown off. And he won't obey, if he gets ordered to hurt or capture you."
There was a long silence as Luffy processed this, along with whatever observations he'd made of his brother in those few seconds they'd locked eyes. And Garp knew to not underestimate Luffy's observations.
Luffy actually frowned, glaring challengingly up at Garp. "Sabo loves me."
Garp sighed. Nodded.
"He misses me."
"Of course he does," his grandfather replied softly. Not responding to the challenge at all, with both knowing it was true.
Luffy's hands fisted. Eyes darkened in an uncharacteristically serious expression.
"He's lonely. And trapped. And scared."
And that flash in his eyes and almost audible thrum of power as he clearly decided to take down Jalmack was pure Revolutionary Dragon.
(Crap, he'd expected Conqueror's from Ace, not Luffy. At least not so young. Thankfully no CP agents had caught up yet.)
Garp let out just a hint of his own Conqueror's, just enough to knock Luffy onto his butt and out of his rage.
"LUFFY! PAY ATTENTION, BRAT!"
Those eyes snapped up to his and he glared, needing this to sink in. (He couldn't lose Luffy. His precious sunshine grandson. He couldn't.)
(Sabo was enslaved. It was only a matter of time before Ace was caught. He couldn't lose Luffy too.)
"Sabo is smart. And strong. He has allies. When it becomes too much, he'll find a way."
Luffy stared back into his grandfather's eyes for nearly a minute, before shaking his head.
"You don't understand, Gramps."
The words should've enraged Garp. Spoken so matter of fact, almost sad. Luffy had no true concept of the power of Celestial Dragons, of the nature of the webs and chains wound around and around his brother. Had not even exchanged a single word with Sabo. And yet…
"What am I not getting, Luffy?" he asked softly. Genuinely curious. Worried. (Scared.)
Luffy stared up into the sky, looking for the words to something he just knew, that just made sense and why could other people not see it?
"Sabo needs to be loved, because he doesn't love himself. He needs to be free, because his mind is a prison. If he's not loved, and he's not free, he's going to die."
Garp frowned, desperately trying to follow Luffy's line of thought. He didn't seem to mean it literally, though Garp wouldn't have thought Luffy would be one for metaphor.
(Please let it be a metaphor.)
"Sabo's not going to die, Luffy. He's always going to be Sabo - they can't take that from him. He won't let them."
Masks and cloaks. CP and Chief of Staff and Revolutionary. Shields and walls and referring to himself in the third person. He was protecting his true self. Right?
(… right?)
"He won't let them," agreed Luffy, in that same too-wise tone as he continued staring up at the sky. But before Garp could feel relief, Luffy continued. "He'll do it himself."
And Garp didn't, couldn't, understand how Luffy meant that. And was pretty sure he didn't want to.
He probably needed to get back. But how to keep Luffy from running straight back in Sabo's direction the second Garp wasn't there to stop him? He didn't dare lead CP straight to Dadan or Makino.
There was a deliberate rustle to the leaves of a nearby bush. And that was no CP agent stepping out.
Luffy's eyes latched onto the young woman and stared. Clearly not a native to Goa. Known to his grandfather. Something to do with Sabo. Already knew who he was.
It had to be disconcerting being the focus of that rarely seen intense focus, but the revolutionary was unfazed.
"Good morning, Miss Koala," Garp greeted, grateful for the appearance of someone who could be trusted not to leap into the lion's mouth. And possibly the solution to his problem.
Sabo's best friend frowned at him. "You need to head back. Now. Cipher Pol will be on top of you in just a few minutes."
Garp pouted. He'd been looking forward to time away from world nobles.
Koala's eyes softened. "Ace is here too," she added, both for Garp as well as Luffy's sakes. "I'm sure Sabo will send him to protect Luffy."
Luffy visibly perked up at that. Any cuter and he would spontaneously sprout puppy ears and tail.
Koala continued. "Head back. If you can lose your tail, meet us back here this evening. During Jalmack's welcome banquet should work. Agreed?"
Luffy started drooling at the word 'banquet', all intensity evaporated as if it'd never been. It looked like Koala would be able to handle Luffy after all, especially when she randomly pulled a bag of jerky from a pocket and tossed it to his grandson. Guaranteeing Luffy sticking close to her for at least an hour.
He would have to trust her. She was right. They did not want CP following Luffy.
(Part of him wondered if she knew just how important CP not tracking Luffy was, not just to Sabo, but to her leader as well.)
Garp nodded. "I will see you both later," he promised grimly, and took off. Nice and loud, as always, making an easy target for even the most incompetent CP agent to follow.
Sabo glared in disapproval at the horrible setup before him. Everything in the banquet hall was noticeably off center. The decorations were falling off one corner of the main table. The amateur layout of the table utensils was either ignorant or plain disgraceful. The cake meant to be the main focus of the dessert display wasn't even level, and while Sabo had learned the artistic value of some level of asymmetry, this was ridiculous. Seriously, his birth mother's petty teatimes had more class.
Thank goodness one of his stewards had hurried to fetch him before the palace staff dared present this to their master. The steward in question was fiddling nervously with his cufflinks. Still new to his job, but the young man, probably about 15, had good instincts.
"Completely unacceptable," Sabo announced coldly, voice raised to carry across the room. He snapped and gestured to his own staff he'd brought along from Mariejois. The kitchen staff immediately and soundlessly began clearing and resetting the tables. The head chef and sous chef headed to the kitchens to take over. The stewards and maids stepped forward to fix the horrible decorations and table layouts.
A furious man in a badly fitting palace staff uniform stormed over. Some sort of butler, probably got his job through connections if he felt this was presentable.
"Who the hell do you think you are! I gave my staff -"
Sabo didn't even let him finish, slapping the portly man across the face. The sound effectively got the attention of every one of the Goa King's lackluster staff, who froze and stood to attention.
"Saint Jalmack's Chief of Staff, and I am taking over. Learn well or be discarded. Or did you mean to insult my master? You are aware of the consequences?"
The man's jaw had dropped, but unfortunately he lifted his chin to continue the argument.
"What even is a chief of staff?! Some nobody, all talk, no skills, come in here to boss around us hardworking -"
Sabo again cut him off, lifting the man up by the back of the coat and storming over to the dessert table, where he unceremoniously dropped the moron with a death wish. "You misunderstand. My position is not some managerial seat warmer. Unlike some."
Sabo gestured and the patissier passed him an appropriate frosting spatula. He dipped it in a glass of water, also provided by the patissier, and with three gliding flicks of his wrist had fixed the uneven layer. Held out his hand, and he was passed a filled pastry bag, piping tip already in place, and created three flowers to fill in the obvious blank spaces.
"Continue like so," Sabo instructed, passing it back, moving on to the head table's setting.
The head table. Where his master would dine in just a few hours. That some idiot couldn't even center with the entry doors. He shoved it over by a good two feet. Adjusted the angle to square it within the room. There we go. Unfolded the napkin someone had dared to roll the silverware within and shook it out. Shot a glare at the fat man still staring at him. Learn, you idiot, before your life is forfeit.
"Being Chief of Staff means I can do every job and fill every station perfectly," stated Sabo, folding the cloth napkin into a lotus flower and arranging it center on the appetizer plate. He swiftly arranged the glasses and tableware perfectly according to Mariejois standards, balanced the main flower arrangement in the center of the table, then gestured his stewards to continue. At least the quality of the dishes and utensils was passable. Finely detailed porcelain and polished silverware.
"And most importantly, that I can properly delegate, and make sure the most qualified people are in the appropriate positions."
He eyed the lineup of nervous palace staff. Flicked his fingers at those obviously in charge and completely inept - a few of Jalmack's private guard escorted them out, along with the hopeless butler or whatever still complaining.
Sabo pointed at an old woman with steady hands who held his gaze firmly. Despite her age, she stood tall, and she had been frowning at the room from when he entered. Knowledgeable eyes glancing disapprovingly over all the same issues Sabo had noticed.
"Name?"
"Patricia."
"Congratulations. You're now the head of this staff. You understand what must be done?"
She lowered her head and angled her torso in the exact proper half-bow of acknowledgment from a head servant to a chief of staff.
"But she's a dishwasher!" came a protest.
Sabo gestured again and another idiot was escorted out. As if Sabo couldn't spot experience when he saw it. No doubt some fool had demoted her. She still had the knife callouses of an experienced chef, and the appraising gaze of a head chef or even chief of staff herself.
Obviously the previous staff leadership had been disgustingly complacent. Thinking what was good enough for the mere king of a dinky little kingdom in the East Blue was good enough for a Celestial Dragon.
He eyed the remaining staff and picked out two teens, both jumping in place nervously at the attention. Bright and aware. Eager to please. Plenty of energy. Not set in their ways.
"These two will be your stewards. Send one to me if you have any questions on my master's tastes or needs."
Patricia nodded, looking pleased with herself. As well she should be.
(Sabo strongly suspected she had been in charge during Jalmack's last visit. Just going off her age and what he could read of her experience. If so, she did indeed already know everything that had been unacceptable and what needed to be done to please his master. Jalmack had quite enjoyed his previous vacations to Goa, making this sloppy display all the more atrocious.)
(Sabo very pointedly did not let himself linger on the thought of Jalmack's last visit to Goa. Buried any such stray thoughts under lists and charts of everything that needed to be done and needed to be perfect.)
Jalmack's Chief of Staff gestured and the palace staff immediately joined Jalmack's staff in properly preparing the banquet hall. He kept an eye on the new head of the Goa palace staff long enough to verify that he hadn't been mistaken and she did indeed have everything in order. Patricia was even confidently sending her new stewards out on errands already, one to the kitchens and one towards the maids, probably for tablecloths and napkins.
Sabo wasn't worried about the kitchens. He could hear Jalmack's head chef yelling from here, and there were still a good few hours before dinner. Time to turn his attention towards security.
(Security. To keep the unwanted out. Like Ace. Oh crap. Ace. Luffy.)
(No! Focus!)
There were obviously holes. Ace had gotten in, and fairly easily at that from the lack of alarms.
(Ace! Maybe he should deliberately create a hole and - No! What was he thinking?!)
He nodded at the Head Guard he'd brought along from Mariejois, who turned and led him from the banquet hall and back towards the guard stations.
The Marines and CP Agents would be stationed and assigned rooms there as well, according to their rank. Garp and Lucci would have suites of their own, as probably would the rest of the CP Agents, while most of the guards and lower ranked Marines would get a shared room and be happy with it. Jalmack's guards (slaves) would be assigned a separate bunk room of their own. (Sabo approved. It would serve as a protection for them. No idiots to ask questions they shouldn't or mess with collars on dares.)
Time to find out what plans were in place, not just to protect Jalmack, but to keep Garp and Sabo under watch here on their home island.
Ace had no idea what to expect when he finally hunted down Luffy. Tears, probably. Big, soppy, crybaby tears, coupled with lots of screaming about Sabo being alive and how he had to go back.
He did not expect to hear laughter coming from their treehouse. (Especially since it had basically become a monument to Sabo after they'd thought he died. Nothing left in it but three sake cups and a bloodied, smashed up top hat.)
He did not expect to climb up and see Luffy giddily exchanging stories with a cheerful redhead lady, probably about his and Sabo's age.
"And! And then! And then Sabo's in the middle of his sales pitch in his big man voice and his fake mustache falls off!"
"And then?!" eagerly prompted the lady, notebook actually open and jotting this down with all the eager intensity of one storing up blackmail to use on a best friend.
Luffy coughed and tried his best (worst) attempt at Sabo's fake manly voice from their childhood. "Ho ho ho! How embarrassing! My apologies - I have a tragic hair loss problem! My hair is lost all at once! And, uh, only for mustaches! Completely non-contagious, don't worry! Now, you were saying -"
"Thinking back, I'm pretty sure all the tanners knew we were actually kids," interrupted Ace, leaning against the now too-small doorframe into their neglected treehouse.
"A~ce!" whined his baby brother. "Don't ruin the story! Wait…" And Luffy comically froze for a good count of three before it processed. (He adored his baby bro, really. But sometimes he worried about how long it took for things to click.)
"ACE!" came the expected scream of joy and WHAM! came the expected slam of a deceptively powerful rubber full body impact. And thankfully Ace had thought to brace himself first, so the slam didn't send him flying straight out the treehouse.
"ACE ACE ACE! SABO'S ALIVE! THIS IS HIS BEST FRIEND KOALA! THEY'RE REVOLUTIONARIES TOGETHER! SNEAKING OUT SLAVES AND PLOTTING TO SMASH ALL THE CELESTIAL DRAGONS IN THE FACE AND OVERTHROW THE WORLD GOVERNMENT! BUT FIRST WE HAVE TO FREE SABO AND SHE'S GONNA HELP!"
"Aaannnd, I'm guessing that's information that shouldn't be screamed at the top of your lungs, Lu," gently scolded Ace, even as he tightly hugged his brother right back.
Revolutionary. That made sense. Sabo had always chafed at the injustice of how the world worked. Even as he hated hated hated the blood of nobility flowing through his own veins. (Ace understood, even if it was a touch different for himself. He and Sabo had never had to talk to understand.)
Sneaking out slaves. From Celestial Dragons. Sabo was stationed right in the heart of Mariejois. Held a position of authority and even power that could definitely make things happen. Had too much of a compassionate and self-sacrificing heart to look past the suffering of others.
(Damn it, Sabo! Why can you never be selfish?! This is why they were supposed to go out to sea together!)
And Sabo had always been smart. Especially with schemes.
"Never would have escaped if he didn't go on vacation-!" Hmm. Really now. Coincidence, or deliberate and meticulously planned setup?
Ace turned suspicious eyes to the young woman, even as Luffy's obvious approval worked in her favor. "Sabo's best friend?" he prompted, deliberately not letting any trickle of jealousy seep in.
"I stole his favorite cravat and he pouted for a week. Even though he has dozens," she replied easily. "What can I say? I wear it better." And she gestured to the flouncy ruffles on her blouse.
Ace almost snorted with laughter before catching himself. Luffy had no such self-control and literally rolled around the treehouse floor laughing his head off. Thinking about Sabo's face every time he saw Koala wearing that blouse-!
Her smile softened, became less smirk and more genuine.
"Seriously, though. It's great to meet you. And kind of weird, since Sabo has told me so much about his brothers, but he was never able to tell you about me." She looked up and bravely met the eyes of Whitebeard's notoriously violent overprotective second-division commander.
"I'm sorry."
Ace nearly snapped back in reflex. It was amazing that she'd so quickly caught on to his silent anger as he realized that her organization was benefiting from Sabo's slavery. That he suspected they could have got him out earlier and hadn't. Even though he knew…
Luffy broke the tension. "No reason for you to be sorry. Sabo's an idiot sometimes."
Yeah. That. He knew Sabo probably had refused any help to escape. Especially if he thought he could use his position to help others. Even as his own situation undoubtedly got worse and worse over time.
"You're here now," Ace gruffly acknowledged. "And you were there when we couldn't be."
Koala smiled sadly. "You were always there, as sappy as that is. You were always there with him." Then she clapped her hands. "Now, to business! First things first -"
"LUNCH!" cheered both Luffy and Ace at the reminder of priorities, and they leaped from the treehouse and ran off to hunt.
"Should have seen that coming," Koala sighed, and flipped her notebook to its coded pages with her secret plans for what they'd need to rescue Sabo.
The book was almost entirely filled at this point. Years and years of harmless stories and coded adventures and the occasional note for or about a mission, carefully random and out of context even if you cracked her code. The pages she wanted were near the front of the heavy notebook. Written over and rewritten and tiny scribbles in the margins from years of edits. Updates to Sabo's duties, schedules, collars.
She would not let the length of the book, the weight of years, depress her. Not with a hint of hope finally on the horizon.
It took a minute for Sabo to process the noble standing awkwardly in front of his private suite's door, holding a stack of boxes with Goa's top tailor's mark elegantly painted across the sides. It was very strange indeed for a noble to be anywhere near the servants' quarters, even if this particular hallway was dedicated to the higher ranked among them. Stranger even that he seemed to be playing delivery boy.
It took another minute to realize this was the young man standing next to the crown princess earlier. And another again to recognize his step-brother.
Ugh. He would've preferred having to deal with a stranger.
He stepped fully around the corner, face carefully blank. If Stelly wanted to acknowledge his relationship with a petty servant, which Sabo doubted, than -
"Sabo! Big brother!"
Weird. They barely knew each other, had only been introduced a week or so before Sabo was enslaved. And you'd think even with that, that their relationship should be tainted by mind games and one-upmanship.
Though perhaps it made sense. With Sabo out of the picture, he was definitively the heir to the Outlook noble house. And apparently now Goa Kingdom itself. Stelly had everything he'd ever wanted, as worthless as Sabo considered all such things. Good for him. Now if he would just say what he needed and go away.
Sabo swiped his eyes up and down his step-brother, quickly analyzing what Stelly's proper title should be. If they'd been introduced earlier, which was possible but Sabo didn't think he'd been that out of it, it would be incredibly rude to not remember.
No crown, no pinned emblems. The only seals, on ring and belt, were of the Outlook noble house. But his suit was a careful grade above noble, not quite royal but awfully close. Fiancé. Future royal, but not one quite yet.
(Quite impressive political maneuvering on his father's part, to secure such an arrangement after Sabo had been such a disgrace.)
"Prince-to-be Stelly. How may I be of assistance?"
Stelly looked caught wrong-footed at the formal address. As if only just remembering Sabo's circumstances. Idiot.
From the way his ugly face went white and his eyes glanced to, then quickly away from, Sabo's brand and then collar, he really had forgotten. Or at least it hadn't processed.
"But you're the Chief of Staff! Father was so proud, when we read the article!"
Sabo would rather not have known that. He had once sworn to never become the sort of person his parents approved of. (Too bad. Too late.)
He could get a slight bit of revenge here, however. A graceful gloved hand rose to his collar, Stelly's eyes following the motion. Casually used the hand to adjust his hat, drawing Stelly's eyes again to the disgusting left half of his face. A tilt of his head. Tricking those eyes into lingering, processing what he was really seeing. Stelly paled more as he waited.
"Amazing what proper incentive can create, hmm? I'm sure father would approve."
Sure enough, Stelly's face went from pale to red in insult. As despicable as the Outlook family was, they'd never had slaves, certainly never (physically) tortured or brutalized (noble) children. It was distasteful. Thus how (hilariously) the nobles insisted on addressing Jalmack's slaves as 'staff' or 'servants'.
"Father would never -!" and then Stelly went from red to beyond pale, almost paper white, as he realized the subtext.
"Are you questioning my master, Prince-to-be?" Sabo asked, voice ever so casual, eyes ever so sharp, a hint of a smile at his lips. Oh, how fun to watch his step-brother almost faint at the realization that he'd insinuated…
(Taking delight in another's terror. He really had become disgusting. He certainly didn't like Stelly. But the brat had never actually done anything deserving of this.)
Sabo deliberately ripped his eyes away from the trembling nobleman.
"My master has nothing to prove or defend," he commented aloofly, implying of course that there was no reason to bring the insult to his attention. Stelly, despite his laughable intelligence, easily read the underlying message, as any noble would. A bit of color returned to his face and he breathed out in relief.
(Luffy or Ace never would get it. Probably not even Koala. This game of said but not spoken insults and manipulation, embarrassment and power play, belonged to noble blood. Sabo had gotten very good at his birthright.)
(Once upon a time, double-speak had been as confusing to him as his brothers. Had been one of the reasons he'd run away in the first place. He's hated it. Didn't understand the lying and insinuating and how a compliment was really an insult or a scoff could be agreement. When had he become fluent?)
Sabo carefully didn't swallow, despite his suddenly dry throat.
"I do not care to repeat myself, Prince-to-be. How may I be of assistance?" (Never mind that Chief of Staff of a Celestial Dragon's household was considered an honorable and even desirable occupation to nobility. Which Sabo had found hysterically funny, considering his actual circumstances. His status, between being a slave and thus property, yet holding a position his birth family would actually approve of, was a complete joke.)
Stelly suddenly remembered he was holding bespoke packages, and held them out awkwardly.
"A… gift. From Saint Jalmack. He… sent your measurements ahead… and asked that you…"
And it seemed to just be hitting Stelly the subtext of Jalmack purchasing clothing for his favored Chief of Staff. In advance of their arrival. And asking it be hand-delivered. By a high-ranking noble. With instructions on when and where to wear said bespoke outfit.
(Subtext that probably never even occurred to Jalmack. Celestial Dragons didn't actually think like nobles or even royals, no matter what the silly upper classes thought of their vaunted status. Sabo had learned very quickly that double-speak went right over their heads. They did what they wanted. Said what they wanted. Took what they wanted. Expected immediate gratification to their every whim. With no thought or care to how they may be perceived by their lessers. A lesser was a lesser, whether they wore a crown or rags.)
(Jalmack wanted Sabo to wear this outfit. Because Sabo was his and he wanted him to. It was that simple, like a child with a doll. He did it all the time. No entendre intended. It wasn't special consideration or flattery - he just did what he wanted the moment it occurred to him.)
((Despite the dehumanization involved, it had been a huge relief to come to this understanding. He'd had a panic attack the first time such a 'present' had been delivered to his bedroom. He wondered if the Head Maid even remembered brusquely talking down a terrified thirteen year old steward, telling him he wasn't special and to just "put on the damn suit and get your butt down to help the dinner service".))
"He asked that I wear it for dinner," Sabo finished for Stelly, reluctantly taking pity on the poor fool, frozen speechless. He took the packages. "Thank you, Stelly."
Not pity enough to correct said implications however. Let Outlook take pride in that.
He entered his room and closed the door firmly behind himself.
The suit was pastel blue with dark navy silk trim in the latest Goan fashion. Complete with matching top hat, vest, shirt, cravat, handkerchief, and new boots. (Quite the heel on these. Ace would laugh. Luffy would probably like them.) No accessories included - he was to use his existing (probably explosive) sapphire set then.
Sabo sighed and mentally doubled the amount of time he'd need to get ready for dinner. A dinner in which he wouldn't be eating anything and would, if he was lucky, just have to stand in a corner for about three hours.
If he was unlucky, he'd be told to dance with a partner of Jalmack's choosing.
Jalmack had sent a new suit. Yeah, he'd probably have to dance with that hideous princess. And the idiot woman would probably take it as a compliment.
(Ace would laugh. Luffy would join in. A smile twitched at Sabo's mouth before he quickly got himself under control.)
Hours later, an ugly princess stared up at him, eyes wide and admiring as they waltzed for Jalmack's entertainment.
(Eyes on him. Appraising his form. Staring staring watching waiting. Many in admiration of his appearance, grace, outfit. Others expectantly, taking his perfection for granted as an example for others. Still others, hoping for a screw up. So many eyes. Too many. Not just Jalmack's - everyone's in this huge room filled with disgusting people.)
(He hated dancing.)
(An unwanted hand on his shoulder, occasionally migrating to his chest. His hand at her waist, the other taking hers to lead and spin in the most professional manner possible - he hated it. Hated her touch. Anyone's touch. The gloves helped, also the many layers of his suit. But it was a struggle not to cringe, flinch, shove.)
"Your eyes are beautiful," she whispered, in what she probably thought was a flirty, seductive manner. "And you're so tall!"
You're engaged to my step-brother, Sabo did not say. (Not that he cared about Stelly.)
You're absolutely hideous, Sabo very much could not say. (But it was so, so true.)
I hated you enough to publicly beat you up when we were children, he probably should not say. (Though seriously, how did she forget?)
"Mascara and three inch heels," he replied instead, as dismissively as possible.
She lost the count in surprise and Sabo was forced to compensate, giving her a spin and helping her catch the rhythm again.
"Your hair -"
"I should dye it, don't you think? Or perhaps get a wig. Blond hair is so lifeless, and nobody likes curls."
(Not true. Ace and Luffy had been endlessly fascinated by his hair when they were kids. Always pulling the curls and laughing as they sprung back. Running their fingers through it or patting his head and exclaiming about how soft it was. More than once he'd woken to his brothers playing with his hair and chased them around yelling…)
(Jalmack liked his hair.)
(He'd never be allowed to change it. Wasn't allowed to cut it himself even. A stylist with instructions from his master appeared once a month. They'd never asked his opinion.)
(Did he even have an opinion anymore?)
The princess's hair, not just Sabo's, was blond and curly. She swallowed at the not so disguised insult, and he dearly hoped she'd give up. Unfortunately she gave it one last shot.
"Your suit is just splendid! You have -"
"A gift from my master," came the conversation ending reply. With no further elaboration - he left that to her silly little (rude) (judgmental) (cruel) mind.
Sure enough, her eyes widened in scandalized shock, mixed with just that hint of fascination he was used to seeing in the eyes of the upper class. Finally seemed to latch onto the brand on his face. Slide to the collar at his throat. Glanced over and realized the Celestial Dragon's eyes were following him and not her. (Idiot.)
He could see the rush of disgusting assumptions she was suddenly making about him flash through her eyes. A slave. A favored slave, rewarded power and rank. Gifted such stylish and perfectly tailored suits and accessories.
(They always assumed he was a lucky whore.)
(Even Koala, the first time they'd met. Even Garp, though at least his assumption had been that he'd been forced.)
((What would Ace and Luffy think?))
(He should be used to this. It shouldn't make him vaguely sick. It wasn't true. What they thought didn't matter. He used this assumption to get people to leave him alone, less they dare insult his master. There was no reason for him to feel dirty.)
With his back to Jalmack, Sabo gave her his nastiest, most superior smirk. Let his eyes glitter in cold hate for just a split-second. Then they were spinning around and the expressionless mask was back on.
Perfect timing. The song ended. He bowed. Trembling slightly, not sure if she'd imagined the change in expression, she curtsied back before rushing off, face pale. Scared.
(He'd rather be feared than wanted.)
Jalmack frowned. He wasn't satisfied. The evening's entertainment had barely begun.
Before he could complain (the princess probably didn't deserve actual execution), Sabo stepped to the nearest high-ranking lady (duchess, married, at least thirty years older than himself, had noticed Jalmack's displeasure), and gave a proper bow while holding out a gloved palm in request.
Not an idiot, the woman nodded and allowed him to lead her to the center of the dance floor. The princess and his previous dance has been the opener, so this time other couples hesitantly joined. Jalmack did not protest, the music began again, and the evening continued on.