The Chief of Staff Dreams of Freedom
Summary: Later Sabo wouldn't even remember what was said. The exact order of events was quite blurry, especially after the branding. All he knows for certain is that he punched a royal brat in the face. Right in front of the King, the nobles, a contingent of Marines, and a Celestial Dragon.
How did he get from point A to point B? Punching an evil little brat giggling about the fire last night, absolutely pounding that punk into the ground, and then he was being pinned by a Marine Commander. His birth father talking talking talking complete nonsense.
The Celestial Dragon naming a price.
A/N: Warning, marking as T, but this is probably my first fic to solidly deserve that rating. I don't believe this fic merits an M, but it does acknowledge and mention the realistic dangers of being a slave to the Celestial Dragons. I will not write any scenes featuring sex or graphic torture, however, thus this sticking at a T.
Slavery is inhumane. No ifs, ands, or buts. There is no such thing as a good slave owner. There is no such thing as a happy slave. Every person, every member of every race, is entitled to free will. To freedom of mind, heart, body, future. Choice.
Sabo had always had a soul deep ache for freedom. As a child, he chose living in a garbage heap alongside dangerous criminals over his gilded cage of a preplanned life. In that garbage heap, and later deep in a forest, he chose his own life, future, friends, and eventually family.
But his freedom was not to be, no matter how much he dug in his fingers like claws and screamed. Dragged back to that gilded cage, now reinforced into a barred prison, blackmailed with his brothers' lives. Too weak to defend himself, let alone rescue anyone else. Helpless despite his best efforts as the nobles of his birth kingdom, those who would claim him as kin, set the trash heap that was home to hundreds ablaze. And locked the gates so said undesirables would burn alive.
There was no way for the child to express the overwhelming flood of emotions inside. The wrenching disgust for the noble blood running through his own veins. The mindless panic as he worried if his real family had escaped the fire. The absolute burning hatred for those who could destroy the lives of anyone they deemed lesser. All combined in a whirlwind of exhaustion and helplessness, having truly tried his best to get help, to warn them, to save someone. Anyone. But he was pathetically weak. Painfully alone. On his knees in the middle of a dark alley as flames turned the sky blood red and the screams from the Grey Terminal began to die off.
The guards found him. Dragged him back to his birth parents. He was too empty to resist and soon found himself back in his locked and barred bedroom. Two guards sitting inside now, either side of the door. Armed.
The next day he was dressed in a fine silk suit. Strictly ordered to be on his best behavior. Dragged along to join the royal family and other nobility as they readied their grand welcome for a Celestial Dragon.
Later Sabo wouldn't even remember what was said. The exact order of events was quite blurry, especially after the branding. All he knows for certain is that he punched a royal brat in the face. Right in front of the King, the nobles, a contingent of Marines, and a Celestial Dragon.
How did he get from point A to point B? Punching an evil little brat giggling about the fire last night, absolutely pounding that punk into the ground, and then he was being pinned by a Marine Commander. His birth father talking talking talking complete nonsense.
The Celestial Dragon naming a price.
Being tied down so he couldn't even twitch a finger. A red hot iron in the shape of the famous dragon's claw being held to his face. Screaming screaming screaming like the feral animal his father believed him to have become.
Waking as a slave. In a cage, with a collar, on a ship. Heavy bandages around his head, about his hands, chest. He had put up quite the fight, though he couldn't remember most of it.
He remembers wondering if he'd been blinded. Not particularly caring.
The Celestial Dragon that had bought him was quite fond of Sabo's noble features, and claimed they were greatly enhanced by the slave brand taking up nearly half his face. The fat pig took great delight in continuing to dress his pet noble in the finest garments and accessories. Navy silk three piece suits. Lace cravats. Top hats. Cufflinks. Rings. The collar was regularly upgraded to be more pleasing to the eyes - the latest version was a golden choker studded with deep blue sapphires, a matching set with various other accessories - but was never hidden. Like the brand, his status as slave, though a highly valued one, could never be allowed to be overlooked or forgotten.
Sabo was quite sure his presence was actually to remind visiting nobles and even royalty of their true place. That even they were nothing before a Celestial Dragon. That even they could become the dragon's next pet.
The noble boy was no fool. Not with the way he was dressed up and eyed like a doll and paraded around before and alongside his master. Not with the pity in the eyes of older slaves, even as the younger slaves hated him for the regular meals and baths and haircuts, the fine clothes and easiest of assignments.
He was being groomed to be a pleasure slave. And he had damn better find a way to be too useful in other matters quick, while he was too young for even most Celestial Dragons to desire. He had to become too useful to waste or risk. A mind and set of talents too valuable to let be broken.
(Thankfully, and ironically, his branded face worked in his favor, as many of the World Nobles disagreed with his master and found the scarring repulsive. Not the presence of a brand, of course, but at having to look at something disfigured rather than perfect. Sabo overheard many a comment on the proper locations of brands on slaves used for "entertainment". The hypocrisy and stupidity and sheer evil of it all was mind boggling - complaining over the "ugly" results of their own disgusting torture of others.)
He requested (carefully, so so carefully), and received, education and training. Wowed his tutors and master with his intellect, cleverness, organizational ability, sleight of hand tricks, raw strength and fighting talent. He quickly found, to his relief, that his training shifted to running a household instead of dance, intelligence gathering over makeup and clothing. He became acquainted with CP agents and even impressed the Five Elders.
His master climbed the ranks, invisible to outsiders, among the Celestial Dragons. Parties at his castle became the events of the season. He was in constant request by the Five Elders and his fellows. His castle was remodeled and expanded nearly every year.
At age 17, the year he'd once sworn to become a pirate, he was appointed Chief of Staff of his master's estate. Fully in charge of security and the running of the household. Honored by the Five Elders for exposing crimes among the Celestial Dragons that even they were not above, such as the murder of their own. He'd even been requested to 'take care of the problem' on a number of occasions.
The collar became choking, even as the dangers of rape and torture were finally mostly behind him. Even as he finally had the power to at least somewhat shield his fellow slaves.
Sabo was a slave. An assassin. A thief. A spy. A bodyguard. A butler. A secretary. A constant presence and reminder to behave or else.
And secretly. So so so so so so so secretly. A revolutionary.
Koala side-eyed the golden cuffs about Sabo's wrists, peeking out from under the lacy sleeves of his dress shirt. Her eyes darted around under her bangs to make sure they were unobserved. She continued straightening the tray of delicacies on the table before her. Saint Jalmack's famous Chief of Staff stood across from her, scarred face an impassive but pleasant mask, examining her work.
"Those are new," she murmured softly, suspiciously.
"Pretty, aren't they?" offhandedly replied Sabo, fingering the cuffs thoughtfully, elegantly. "Technology is ever advancing."
Koala had to choke down the panic at the confirmation. Exploding collars had always been bad enough. That they could be shrunken and disguised like Sabo's choker was even worse. That they could now be used to bind hands and feet, and appear as delicate and harmless as a bracelet? Terrifying. She already had images flashing through her mind of escaped slaves missing limbs. Of thinking the slave they'd rescued was in the clear, only to be met with a horrible crippling explosion. Still better than slavery. Better than death.
As for what it meant for Sabo…
"Don't even think about it," casually hummed her contact, her best friend. "I have no idea if they're live or what the restrictions are. Can't even find the keyholes. And they're all part of a set - and no idea if any of these other little trinkets hold any surprises. Unlikely, but who knows."
The pleasant smile turned sharp. Animal. "I only know for sure they haven't tried incorporating any video or audio tech. No snails. I'm assigned far too much dirty work to be their test subject for those." He glanced around again, ever on a justified edge. Their position remained clear. "Heads up though. Vegapunk's managed to shrink them again."
He lifted one of the delicacies, seemingly admiring the tracings of frosting and lacy little sugar flowers. The movement masked his other hand slipping Koala the shell of a dead snail, this one barely an inch in diameter, along with a handwritten copy of Vegapunk's latest report, shrunken down to a slip of paper barely the size of her pinky.
But Koala's mind stayed on her friend's new accessories, not the latest intelligence. Her eyes drifted to the rings on each gloved hand. Cufflinks. Cravat pin. A big gaudy sapphire trimmed silk flower attached to his top hat. Earrings, those were new too. The idea that any or all of these accessories could be explosives almost made her want to cry. She'd desperately been seeking a way to free Sabo for years now, but each time they made contact, things seemed more hopeless. It didn't help that many Revs were very happy with Sabo's position, knowing if they were to lose him, it was unlikely they'd ever get such access to the heart of Mariejois again.
And Sabo was no fool. Far, far from it. He knew quite well that, if he ever were to escape from Mariejois, he would be more liability than asset to the Revolutionaries. He was too well known. There was every reason to not even dream of escape for himself, even as he orchestrated freedom for hundreds of others.
So he continued to make himself useful. Even as he died a little more inside each morning. Even as he found the tears no longer came at night. As bloodstains on his clothing became little more than irritations. As he felt his humanity slipping and had no idea how to pull it back.
Some days, it was so hard to even care. As he stared in the mirror. At the brand. The collar. Now the earrings and wrist cuffs. Escape was impossible. Freedom was forever out of reach. Even if the Revolutionaries should win, he would probably go down with the Celestial Dragons.
He would stick it out as long as there were slaves in Mariejois. As long as those fat pigs sat on their thrones. When the city fell, he was fine with dying with it.
"What about Ace and Luffy?" Koala interrupted his depressed spiral of thought.
He physically flinched, face twisting in absolute heartbreak for half a second. He quickly glanced around to make sure none of his fellow slaves had noticed the slip. All were still occupied with their respective tasks, well out of earshot.
"Don't, Koala. I can't. Please."
"Their brother isn't dead. I'm looking at him right now. You have a home to go back to, Sabo."
How did she manage to drag him back every time he was right on the precipice? But clinging to the edge was exhausting. He wasn't sure it was worth it anymore. Especially when he remembered. How old he was. How old Ace thus was. And an ancient promise.
"Ace left, didn't he. What's his bounty?"
Koala was quiet for a long moment before finally murmuring the answer. "Fifty mil."
Sabo ducked his head so the brim of his hat shielded his eyes. But Koala made out the genuine smile in the twitch at the corners of his mouth.
Ace was a pirate. He was free. Free to laugh and fight and go wherever a whim may take him. To find new friends. New family. The true acceptance and unconditional love Sabo could never quite convince him existed, aside from Luffy and maybe (maybe?) himself.
"I know you said you can't risk possessions," Koala mumbled, just barely audible to Sabo not two feet in front of her. "But…" She tucked a folded piece of water resistant paper under the edge of the tray.
Sabo already knew what it was. Couldn't reply without exposing his suddenly raw emotions. Didn't dare unfold the bounty poster as he palmed the gift and slipped it up a sleeve. It would have to wait until he was in his room.
Ace.
His brother. Who still thought he was dead.
"Dragon said to remind you the option is still open. We can make contact any time."
Sabo's usually so steady hands had the slightest tremble as he rearranged the ornamental flowers around the edges of the tray.
"It's better this way. They grieved. They got over it."
"Grief doesn't work like that," whispered Koala, stepping a tad too close for decorum's sake. But then she wouldn't be the only slave to try suck up to the Chief of Staff in any way possible. Let them think she was trying to seduce him. She wrapped her arm around his, leaned against his side. Finally crossing the line and getting glances from other slaves, but this way her face was hidden against his shoulder as she pressed against him.
"Sabo. If someone told me Fisher Tiger was still alive. Even if he'd been enslaved again. It would be so painful, but. But. Just knowing would be worth anything."
Sabo was stiff against her. As she had been, once upon a time, at the slightest physical contact. After a frozen moment where she hoped hoped hoped, for his sake more than his brothers, that he would finally agree, write a letter, record something on a smuggled dial, even just give her permission to make contact…
"No," he said shortly, yanking his arm away. The other slaves lost interest and returned to their assignments, undoubtedly assuming the girl had been rejected like everyone else.
He lifted the tray and gestured Koala towards the kitchens, and thus the servants' entrance. "Everything appears satisfactory. Dismissed." But his secret smile for her, only there if you knew how to read his eyes, said so much more.
Thank you. It was good to see you. Be safe. Goodbye.
If they had not been somewhere others could see, she would have slapped him or something. Using his position to escape like this. Making her leave him when he was still clearly so close to losing himself. When he knew that she knew exactly what that felt like.
But she had no options here. She curtsied respectfully and took her leave. They were planning to meet later that night anyway.
Sabo sighed as the new slave tripped and dropped his tray, shattering the glasses and spilling the champagne everywhere. The fool. He was probably thirty-something, handsome enough to be assigned to the service staff, strong enough for manual labor.
There was always something extra tragic about a grown man crying. Pleading for their life to be spared. Blubbering about a wife and children he needed to return to.
The room had been silent since the crash. Saint Jalmack snapped his fingers.
"Sabo."
"Yes, Master."
"Take care of it."
"Yes, Master."
He smoothly marched over, grabbed the slave by the back of his slave collar (there was a handy little grip there, made things so much easier), dragged him screaming out of the room. The music started back up before the doors shut behind them.
The man was still bawling and begging as Sabo dragged him outside. It was raining. A grisly storm to match a grisly scene. Lightning flashed.
The noise would cover up what would happen here.
Sabo threw the man roughly into the mud. Waited until the man got halfway back up, pleas still on his lips, and slugged him in the face. His nose crunched beneath Sabo's knuckles, spraying blood everywhere. The man screamed, and Sabo clocked him on the side of the head to shut him up. He dropped unconscious.
There we go. That should do for their cover.
He grabbed the man roughly by the ankles and dragged him like a dead body over towards the garbage disposal.
Koala was already waiting there. She looked in disgust at the blood and mud decorating Sabo's usually pristine uniform, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before.
"Must you be so rough on them?" she asked, helping Sabo heft the man into the back of the cart. With a deft twist of a haki coated hand, the man's cheap slave collar dropped to the ground. Sabo tossed it on the actual garbage wagon next to Koala's.
"If I came back spotless, people would talk. If there was no blood or sign of struggle tomorrow morning, people would talk. If anyone happened to pass by or peek through a window, there needed to be a show."
"But all the other slaves hate you for this charade, Sabo."
"Good."
"You don't deserve to be hated, Sabo."
He didn't reply. He knew better.
He knew she was wrong.
The girl was probably around eight or nine. She gave Sabo creepy Koala vibes, with her short reddish brown hair and huge plastic smile. Even as she fell to her knees in apology.
She wasn't even one of his master's. Some random slave on some random errand or chore. Probably sick or injured and hiding it behind the fake fake fake mask. Didn't realize she'd crossed his master's path until it was too late.
His master reached for his gun.
Sabo deliberately shifted so the light would reflect off his cuffs. Draw his master's eye.
If he said anything, he would be punished. Probably not killed, but tortured.
But if he could give his master an idea…
"Sabo. Handle it."
"Of course, Master."
Thankfully Celestial Dragons were plenty sadistic. Pain over death.
"I whipped a little girl last week," Sabo told Koala, curious to see her reaction.
She said nothing. Narrowed her eyes at him. Justifiably angry, but… not at him?
Weird. And rude. He'd been trying to prove a point.
"You think I didn't know? She told me all about it."
The little girl had screamed on the first strike. Fainted after the second. Two broken lines across her back, ripping open her cheap dress. Hopefully enough entertainment for his master.
Sabo clipped the leather switch back to his belt, allowing it to dangle like another accessory. Bowed to his master, murmuring apologies for the inconvenience. Requested he be allowed to return the slave to its master.
Saint Jalmack waved dismissively. Sabo carefully did not reveal anything on his face as he lifted the little girl and strode off.
It had taken a while to figure out how to carry someone and not hurt them worse while still looking to utterly not care if the body in his arms was dead or alive. He found for this sort of injury, that the best "dismissive" carry was to lift them by the waist, only using one arm. The other he could use to distract as needed. Once he was out of sight, he could shift the girl to a more comfortable hold. Once out of sight, he could run.
He usually didn't risk it. But the girl was so small. Reminded him so much of his only friend.
Carefully making sure he wasn't followed and hadn't attracted attention despite his rushing, an easy enough feat with observation haki, he brought the girl to one of the Revolutionary Army's pickup points for slaves. This one in particular was used the most for children. A large stable with several empty stalls and many empty tack and storage rooms.
Sabo brought the girl, beginning to moan in pain as she regained consciousness, into the storage room they had medical supplies in.
Her eyes flew open, creepy fake smile thankfully broken, though the look of terror as she looked at her abuser was possibly worse.
Sabo forced himself not to care. He couldn't care. He couldn't break. The job wasn't done yet.
He broke off her slave collar and tossed it aside. Held a gloved finger to his lips as the girl's pain muddled look of hate and fear shifted to suspicious confusion.
"What's your name? I'm Sabo." No response. He tried moving on.
"We have bandages and ointment," he continued softly, looking away to retrieve said items. "I'll help you. You won't be able to reach them yourself."
She stared at him. Her hands, trembling with pain, went to her free throat. Her face blushed in shame even as her teeth grit to hide back the whimpers as she became more aware of her wounds. Her ripped dress. She shied back as he stepped forward.
Sabo hesitated. He hadn't had to treat a girl this young before. Couldn't risk her screaming. She'd expose them both.
Took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and turned around to let it fall. Didn't even need his haki to know she understood what he was showing her.
He didn't look anymore. No point. But he knew what was hidden back there as well as the brand on his face. The seemingly endless number of overlapping stripes of scars.
Sabo shrugged back on his shirt. Quickly and efficiently buttoned it up. Fixed his cravat. Adjusted his sleeves. Pulled his jacket back on.
Hide. Cover. Mask.
"Yours shouldn't scar," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Painful, but they're only surface level. You're still gonna have a crappy week though. Let me treat them."
The small girl stared at his face, at his scar, in sudden understanding. Sabo resisted the urge to pull down his hat or adjust his hair. One little hand rose to her own shoulder, almost certainly where her own slave brand was located.
Sabo tried again. "The revolutionaries are coming to get you out of here. You're going to have to hide here, maybe for a few days. There's food and water. But if you don't let me treat your wounds, they could get infected and you could die anyway. Right on the brink of freedom."
"Chi," suddenly whispered the girl.
Sabo blinked.
"My name. Chi."
Progress. Sabo nodded and fell back on old manners lessons. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Chi. Though I do wish it was under better circumstances."
"You hurt me."
Sabo saw no reason to deny this. "Yes."
"Was he gonna shoot me?"
Hmm. Not stupid then. Perhaps she would join the revolutionaries in the future?
"Yes."
She didn't thank him. He didn't expect her to. But she did turn around and didn't do more than flinch as he applied ointment to her wounds and taped a bandage down over them.
Koala was staring at him. Her face unusually serious.
"You just say the word, Sabo. We'll find a way. We'll get you out of here."
Sabo blinked. Hand almost went to his branded face before fisting. Eyes flinched away from hers, unused to such honesty after so many years of needing to hide his true self. Of not really knowing anymore who his real self even was.
No one was around. It was pitch black. In one of their safest meeting points.
She sat next to him and wrapped an arm around him, ignoring how stiff he was. Just sat there with him. She wouldn't be able to leave for hours yet anyway.
It took a long time. Eventually his shoulders relaxed. His head dropped to rest on hers. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh.
"I can't leave," he whispered. "This is it, Koala."
"Never, Sabo," she whispered back. "Do you need out?"
"I can't leave," he just repeated.
"You can."
"I can't, Koala. The Revs won't be able to replace me. What would your boss say for even offering?"
Koala gave a soft chuckle. "And that's the clearest evidence that you haven't met Dragon. You thought I didn't have authorization to get you out?"
Sabo wasn't entirely sure if he believed her. Didn't actually think it was possible. But the sentiment was amazing.
Koala could tell, as she always somehow could, that this topic wouldn't go further. So she changed the subject to something she knew would get her friend to smile.
"Tell me another story about Ace and Luffy."
A/N: Like my other Sabo fic, I have the outline of where I'm going with this, but the details are still up in the air. We will be getting to Luffy and Ace through, I promise you that!
A/N 2: I'm primarily on Ao3 lately, but I will still try to upload my fics here as well. Just something to keep in mind if I don't reply to a comment or PM right away.