Roronoa Zoro, A Romantic Fairy Tale

The new guy was weird. Zoro didn’t know what to make of him. Jinbe, he already knew, had seen him fight, knew he had honor and loyalty. That and the fact that he apologized to Nami for not taking care of Arlong went a long way with Zoro. But Jinbe had brought this other guy with him when he’d finally come onboard as their helmsman and Luffy had promptly extended an invitation to the man to join their crew. 

The new guy’s name was King Vinsmoke Sanji of Germa Kingdom. King, as in really a King. A ruler of a country. What kind of man went from being a King to being a pirate? Sanji, which is what he’d insisted everyone call him, said he’d appointed a Viceroy to rule in his stead. Zoro had no idea what a Viceroy was, or where Germa was, though Brook knew the name and shuddered. Anything that could make a skeleton shudder couldn’t be good. 

The new guy, Sanji, spoke oddly, like one of Robin’s books but with mispronounced words and a North Blue accent. His blond hair had a recently cut look and it fell over one eye no matter how many times he pushed it back. His eyebrows were asymmetrical, which was bizarre, and they also curled. The one that was usually visible made a curlicue above his nose. He was Zoro’s height, had a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, and skin so pale it was nearly translucent. It was as if he’d never been outdoors. Though, as a King, maybe he had been cooped up in his castle doing ruler-y things all his life. 

He was strong, though. Very. He’d kicked Queen’s ass during the Raid on Onigashima single-handedly. Zoro had learned about it later from Chopper, who was there to witness it. Sanji apparently had a suit that made him invisible and more powerful than human, but he’d destroyed it after his victory against Queen. Zoro found that intriguing. He’d seemingly given up a super suit to rely on his own strength and power. 

And what power he had, in his kicks and in his punches. By his request, Franky had created a training post that would not shatter quickly or be launched off the ship. Franky anchored a thick pillar of Adam’s wood to the deck in front of another thick pillar of Adam’s wood in front of the main mast, giving the training post incredibly solid support. Sanji kicked it as a trial and it caused the entire main mast to shudder, two pillars behind it. Zoro didn’t impress easily, but that did it. He asked Franky if he knew how Sanji got to be so strong.

“Hitting rock reinforced by seastone daily for twelve years,” Franky told him. “That’s super dedication.”

Still, he was weird. The first night he was on the ship, Zoro found him lying on the main deck, petting the grass, staring up at the stars with tears streaming down his face. It was three in the morning, the normal time Zoro got up. He hadn’t expected anyone to be on deck. Also, the crying thing threw him off. Maybe the King missed home?

“Uh, hey,” Zoro said awkwardly, upon approach. If they were going to be crewmates, Zoro should at least make an attempt at being friendly. “You okay?”

Sanji gave him a big, watery smile. “I’m fantastic. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

Zoro’s brow furrowed and he glanced upward. The night sky was inky black and studded with stars. It looked like every other night sky he’d seen in his life. But maybe Sanji was looking at something else. “The stars, you mean?”

“No, everything.”

See? Weird. 

Zoro found Sanji lying on the deck every night, sometimes staring, sometimes crying, sometimes sound asleep. It made Zoro uncomfortable. Why would a King be sleeping outside instead of in a bunk? Zoro figured he’d be complaining that he had a narrow bunk in a shared room instead of a private cabin with an enormous fluffy bed with numerous perfumed pillows. Instead, he was outside. Zoro didn’t think he even tried the bed.

Then, there were the clothes. Sanji was wearing what looked like wedding clothes. Fancy suit coat with tails, a frilly collared shirt, tailored trousers, and a cape, all of it in white. It had a few washed out bloodstains on the trousers and suit coat, but otherwise the clothing looked really new. And impractical. Sanji didn’t come with any luggage or personal belongings, though. Zoro didn’t have a lot of clothing, himself, but he at least had something to change into for laundry day. It irritated Zoro and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if Sanji complained about his clothing. He didn’t know how to use a laundry machine, which was something normal for a royal to not know, but he stood around in a towel while his clothing went through the wash after he was shown by Usopp instead of changing into something else.

Which was why Zoro noticed how scarred Sanji was, from shoulder to waist, and down both his legs exposed beneath the towel. Big scars, little scars, old scars, newer scars – his torso and arms were an overlapping criss-cross of damage. The pale, nearly translucent skin did little to disguise the fact that he’d been seriously injured repeatedly. It set Zoro’s teeth on edge. Why would a King look like he’d seen nonstop battle? What kind of kingdom was Germa? What could cause such horrific scars?

“What kind of kingdom is Germa?” Zoro asked Brook one sunny afternoon at sea.

“A bloodthirsty, mobile nation of warmongers,” Brook told him. “The Vinsmokes are synonymous with death in the North Blue. They killed all four ruling Kings and annihilated many island nations. I heard there was a saying in the North Blue, if you see Germa coming, shoot yourself in the head.”

Zoro looked over at Sanji, who was on the tree swing being pushed by Franky. Sanji’s expression was one of joy and delight, his laughter infectious. This was a fearsome warmonger who annihilated entire nations?

Another weird thing the King did was talk incessantly. If someone was on deck, he’d talk to them. If no one was around, he’d talk to himself. Not grumbled asides of frustration or anger like the rest of the crew did. No, Sanji narrated or had entire conversations with himself. It was weird, and annoying, especially when Zoro was trying to nap by Nami’s mikan trees. 

Today, Zoro was hiding in the galley for that very reason. Very few people came into the galley, unless it was their turn to make dinner. Luffy had never found a cook. They’d had to make-do with temporary chefs when others sailed with them, or they took turns. They’d all gotten pretty good at cooking over the years, figuring out the necessity of fruits and vegetables, trying to make balanced meals. 

Zoro sprawled on the couch in the galley, his head toward the door to the main deck. The galley was divided in half by a tavern-like bar with bar-length seating. On one side of the bar was the kitchen, with four burner stove, a double oven, a large refrigerator, wash sink, prep space and plenty of cabinets for storage. A storeroom was hidden behind the kitchen. The other half of the galley was the dining area, with a large table with eight chairs bolted around it, a service elevator that went down to the Aquarium Bar, and a comfy green couch that ran along the wall between Chopper’s infirmary and the door to the main deck. Sconces and portholes provided lighting for the galley. 

The galley, like the rest of the ship, was built from Adam’s wood, which made it both solid and soundproof, which was great for a nap. Zoro’s three swords were near his head, leaning against the small table that held the den den mushi. His head was resting on the couch arm, his hands folded on his stomach. He was wearing a loose t-shirt with his usual trousers and boots. His green haramaki was wrapped around his waist. It was quiet, he was comfortable, and he was going to enjoy his post-training nap.

The door opened behind his head, and Sanji’s voice, seemingly mid-conversation with himself, proceeded him into the galley. “...not try anything exuberant, Sanji. You haven’t been in a kitchen for fifteen years. Try boiling an egg, not eggs florentine– oh!”

A wave of fear so powerful hit Zoro that he immediately sat up and reached for a katana, thinking the ship was under attack. He looked over at Sanji, framed in the doorway. Sanji’s already pale face had turned a sickly gray and his eyes were wide, the pupils blown. He was staring at Zoro with terror. “What? What’s wrong?” Zoro asked, getting to his feet. 

At Zoro’s voice, Sanji suddenly sagged and palpable relief drained the fear from the room. “Roronoa Zoro, swordsman. Likes sake, training, and naps.” He laughed weakly and touched his head in several spots, as if feeling if something was there or not. “This is the Thousand Sunny, and Yonji is dead.”

Zoro put his katana down, wary but there appeared not to be any true danger. “Who’s Yonji?”

“My brother.” Sanji took another step into the galley, looking longingly toward the kitchen. “Nami said that I could use the kitchen…?” His statement ended with a lift, as if he were asking a question. 

“Kitchen’s open to anyone, except Luffy. Don’t let him into the fridge or he’ll eat everything.” Zoro studied Sanji. The gray on his face had disappeared, his skin tone returning to his usual nearly translucent paleness. The horror had become relief and it had now become excitement. 

“Nami has warned me of that as well, before she provided me with the refrigerator code,” Sanji said. The galley door closed behind him as he fully entered the room. His frilly white suit made him look regal, even with the faint pink, permanent bloodstains in a few spots. “I am going to boil an egg.”

“Uh, okay.” Zoro didn’t need to know that, but whatever. Sanji seemed to have gone back to what was normal for him – weird – and the false danger had vanished completely. 

Sanji smiled brightly and went into the kitchen area. He slowly spun in a circle, looking everything over, reaching out a hand to run his fingers over the stovetop, the counter, and the oven. He turned the sink tap off and on. He laid his palm on the refrigerator door, staring at it like it had proposed to him, before punching the code in and opening the door. He gasped when he saw the contents. They’d stocked up before leaving Wano a week ago, so the refrigerator was packed full. 

“What, never seen a refrigerator before?” Zoro scoffed. The King likely had servants that did everything for him, from cooking his food to wiping his ass. 

“Not for a very long time,” Sanji replied with melancholy. He reached out his hand again, lightly touching the contents on the shelves. He found the eggs, took one out of its carton, and closed the refrigerator again. 

“Too good for menial work?” Zoro knew that royals had an aversion to anything considered beneath them.

“Menial?” Sanji said, confused. “What does that word mean?”

Zoro snorted. “It means you’re too snobby to even know what the word menial means.”

Sanji still stared at him confusedly. “I don’t know what the word snobby means, either.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Whatever, King.”

Sanji pressed his lips together and appeared briefly pained. He turned away and placed the egg on the counter near the stove. “Pots. Where would the pots be?” he said to himself, trying to open cabinets. The cabinets had latches on them on both the outside and inside, to keep the doors from opening during storms or sea battles. Sanji slid the outside latch open, but he could not figure out how to pop the inner latch.

Zoro sighed in annoyance, walked into the kitchen, and nudged Sanji out of the way with his body. He slid that outer latch shut, then went to a lower cabinet on the other side of the stovetop where the pots and pans were kept. “Watch,” he said, opening the outer lock. He pressed the top of his finger on the inner latch, lowering it down, releasing the catch before opening the door. 

“Oh! That is amazing.” Sanji crowded him, peering into the cabinet. Zoro stepped back and watched as Sanji closed the cabinet and pressed the inner latch to open it again. He did it a second time. Then a third. “I wonder if the kitchen had these on Germa. I would presume so, since Germa is mobile. We climbed the Red Line more than once. It would have made a mess if not.”

Zoro couldn’t decide if it was endearing or irritating that a simple latch had delighted Sanji so much. He went with neither. “Germa can climb the Red Line?” 

“Oh, yes, the transport snails can take Germa anywhere in the four blues,” Sanji said, crouching in front of the open cabinet door to sort through the pots and pans for the one he wanted. “I remember being tossed around at least eight times and losing my books out of the ssss- my room. Yes, my room.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed at the change in what Sanji had been about to say. He opted not to question it, instead asking, “How many nations did Germa conquer?”

Sanji went very still. “I don’t know. I had nothing to do with any of that.”

Zoro scoffed. “You’re the King. How do you not know?”

“I have only been the King for three weeks.” Sanji stood up with a quart pot in his hand. He shut the cabinet. 

Zoro was surprised. He leaned back against the prep counter, near the sink. “That’s not very long.”

“No.” Sanji closed his eyes for a second. “According to Fromber’s Basics of Cooking, to boil water, I should fill the pot two-thirds of the way with water before putting it over a medium heat until it comes to a rolling boil.”

Zoro watched as he filled the pot with water and set it on the front left burner. He frowned at the dials stove. Zoro crossed the small space to show him which one. “Turn this. It’s auto-light.”

Sanji turned the dial and smiled when it lit. He adjusted the flame beneath the pot. “This is very exciting. I cannot wait to see what happens.”

Zoro settled back against the prep counter that ran beneath the bar. He wanted to know more about this three-week thing. “Why only three weeks? What happened to make you the King?”

“My father and siblings died,” Sanji said succinctly. He stood in front of the pot on the stove, watching the water with rapt attention. 

“How?”

“Charlotte Big Mom assassinated them.” Sanji seemed not to care. 

“But not you.”

“No.” Sanji touched the water with his finger curiously. “Charlotte Pudding saved my life and helped me escape Whole Cake Island with Jinbe.”

There was a lot to unpack with that statement. It piqued Zoro’s curiosity. He knew that Jinbe had come from Totto Land with the Sun Pirates to join in the raid. Jinbe had been allied with Big Mom before joining the Straw Hats. “Why were you there?”

“I was getting married,” Sanji replied.

Zoro’s brows climbed to the top of his forehead. “Married? You’re married?”

“No.” Sanji shook his head. “The ceremony was interrupted before it was concluded.”

“You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

“It was an arranged marriage,” Sanji told him. “It would have been nice to be married to a Princess, like in the Fairy Tales, and away from Germa, but it worked out in a different way and I am finally free.”

The more Zoro spoke with Sanji, the more he was confused. The feeling was irritating. “Finally free of what? You’re a royal, with a cushy castle and servants and anything you want at your fingertips. Did Daddy make you wear the fancy blue outfit instead of the fancy purple one that you wanted at the ball?”

Sanji’s shoulders tightened visibly, his back still to Zoro, eyes on the pot on the stove. He was silent for a long moment before saying, “Must I answer?”

Zoro frowned. “Uh…” He didn’t know how to reply to that. He wanted to know, but Sanji looked and sounded like he did not want to talk about it. “I guess not. I want to know, though.”

Sanji was silent again, briefly, before he responded. “My life has not been how you have imagined.”

Zoro remembered, then, that Sanji’s body was covered in layers of scars and he felt ashamed of his snottiness. “That’s… sorry. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You haven’t,” Sanji dismissed. 

Zoro now felt uncomfortable. He pushed away from the counter. “I’m going to leave you to your egg.”

“Very well.” 

Zoro looked at the tight lines of Sanji’s back beneath his white suit – it really was wedding finery – and reassessed his opinion. Sanji wasn’t weird, he was an enigma. One that Zoro wanted to learn more about. But not right now. 

Zoro gathered his katanas and headed for the door as Sanji started to speak to himself again. “When boiling an egg to full hardness, I should carefully lower the egg into the boiling water and leave it for approximately twelve minutes. I should be able to do this. Follow the recipe, Sanji. You have the knowledge. It can’t be that difficult…”

The Sunny sailed into an abrupt winter storm. One moment it was sunny and warm, the next it was blizzarding. Zoro had to put a coat on to travel from place to place on the Sunny, which was annoying. He also couldn’t nap in his usual spots and he was forced to entertain Luffy for hours on end. 

Sanji, Zoro found, spent all his time in the galley, cooking. He’d really taken to it, and he was exceedingly proud of himself when he made a variety of egg dishes for everyone for breakfast one morning. There was nothing to go with the eggs, and some of them were too runny or too hard, but Zoro didn’t mention it. In fact, no one did. They could all see how happy Sanji was to serve them something he had made. 

Eight of the crew sat round the dining table in the galley, with Franky on the couch and Brook seated at the bar. Their winter coats had been discarded over the backs of chairs. Zoro sat in his usual spot, with Usopp between him and Luffy. Jinbe was at the head of the table and Sanji at the other head. Robin, Nami and Chopper filled the remaining seats. 

“Maybe you should be our cook instead of our diplomat,” Luffy said in between bites of scrambled eggs. “We don’t have one.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Sanji said, though there was a note of longing in his voice. “I don’t have any experience in the kitchen.”

“Eh, neither do we, but we make do,” Luffy said. “You like cooking, right?”

“I… yes. It was my dream to become a chef,” Sanji admitted. Zoro noticed the way Sanji’s hand tightened around his fork. 

“You can still be one!” Luffy smiled widely, his mouth full of food. “Everyone should be able to reach their dream. I’m going to be the Pirate King!”

The others at the table began sharing their dreams, their reasons for being part of the crew. Zoro watched Sanji take it in, his expression stoic at first, then becoming more amazed when he heard what everyone had to say. “Your dreams sound wonderful,” he said.

“So, what do you say, Sanji? What are your dreams?” Nami asked. “We know you want to become a chef. Is there anything else?”

Sanji sat forward eagerly on his seat. “Have any of you heard of All Blue?”

“Is that not the myth about where the four blues meet?” Robin said. “Where you can find all the species of the seas in one spot?”

“Yes!” Sanji’s blue eyes danced with excitement. “I read it in a book of tales on the Grand Line. I’ve dreamed about finding it and opening a restaurant there, where I could be the head chef and be able to cook any seafood dish in the world, every day.”

Sanji’s face lit up when he spoke, and Zoro was suddenly struck by how handsome he was. Breathtaking, actually. Zoro felt heat crawl up his neck. He averted his eyes to the messy, over-easy eggs on his plate. It wasn’t often that he felt the stirrings of arousal and attraction. It was only over guys, and it was few and far between. The last time had been on Sabaody after he’d returned from the crew’s two year split apart. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last, since he would be leaving, but he’d still given all of himself for that week. 

Zoro cut a glance at Sanji from the corner of his eye. Sanji was happily engaged in conversation, smiling widely and without guile. Zoro’s pulse picked up. It was definitely an attraction. The question was, what should he do about it? Sanji was a crewmate, not a stranger he’d be leaving behind on an island. What he knew about Sanji could fit into a thimble. Acting on it would be dumb. He’d set it aside for the time being and see what tomorrow brought.

Tomorrow brought Jewelry Bonney, trapped in a warm eddy, and an encounter with a mecha-shark that damaged the Sunny and caused the need for repair. The crew ended up on Egghead Island, separated for a bit, and when they came together again in a control center, Zoro had been dressed in a skin-tight jumpsuit that wouldn’t stay out of his ass. 

Sanji, on the other hand, was dressed in shorts, an orange floral, hooded shirt, and the same ridiculous boots that Zoro had been shoved into. His ultra-pale, hairy, scarred legs were on display. For a second set of clothing, it wasn’t the greatest, but Zoro was paying more attention to the delight playing across Sanji’s face than to what he was wearing. 

Sanji hurried over to Zoro when Zoro had arrived with Vegapunk Lilith and asked, “What’s going on?”

“We’re rescuing people! Just like the heroes in my storybooks.” Sanji practically vibrated. “Isn’t it exciting!”

The Straw Hat crew rescued people at least monthly, usually more often, so it had lost its novelty for Zoro long ago. But Sanji’s enthusiasm sparked anticipation for adventure in Zoro’s chest and he couldn’t help but grin in return. “Yeah. We do this a lot.”

“Really?” Sanji sounded thrilled by the idea. 

Zoro went to tell him about the prior exploits of the crew, but Sanji was called away to join the others on a mission. Zoro was stuck in the control room with Luffy, but it turned into its own battle, which led to an eventual drawn-out fight with Rob Lucci from the CP0. The fight was annoying and Zoro was pissed at himself that he hadn’t won already. He was going to have to train more. 

“I see him,” Zoro heard Jinbe say in the middle of his fight and caught a glimpse of Jinbe running toward him. He blocked another strike from Lucci’s roan claws as Jinbe drew nearer.

“Tell Zoro we need to make our daring, last minute escape from the evil clutches of the World Government!” Sanji’s voice came out of the radio around Jinbe’s neck. 

It was ridiculously endearing, and adorable, that Sanji was still equating what was going on to an adventure book. Zoro’s heart filled with the want to give Sanji his storybook ending, and he summoned all his strength to end the fight in one blow.

Lucci went down hard, as Jinbe scooped Zoro up. Zoro was dismayed to see that Lucci didn’t stay down, but had more important things to do. “You heard the man,” Zoro told Jinbe. “Let’s make our daring, last minute escape.”

Elbaf came with giants and Sanji’s wide-eyed fascination and endless questions to compare to what he read in a book. Sanji, apparently, had read a lot of books. Zoro found out he had 7,356 recipes memorized from the various cookbooks he’d read over the years, and that was only part of what he read. Adventures, romances, histories, biographies, he seemed to have read it all. Zoro asked him about it and all he’d said was, “I had a lot of time on my hands and books were allowed.” Another part of the enigma that made up Sanji.

Zoro also got to see him fight for the first time. Sanji was seriously powerful, more so than the training post indicated. He had no skills or finesse, only brute strength and determination. And he could take a hit. His body dented rather than got injured, which was a mark in the enigma column. Sanji explained, “I’m a Vinsmoke, unfortunately.” The raid in Wano had activated some sort of body modifications that displeased Sanji and he did not like to talk about it. 

Zoro hadn’t seen any haki use, but still Sanji kicked ass against very strong opponents. Sanji stood in place and made the opponent come to him, which was an interesting strategy. Apparently, training against a solid wall back on Germa didn’t involve movement. 

After Elbaf and related adventures, Zoro decided to broach life on Germa again. His attraction to Sanji had only grown, especially after witnessing Sanji fighting, So did his trust. Sanji was loyal, open, friendly, and very kind. He seemed to look at everything with wonder, like he’d been sequestered away with no knowledge on the world except for what he’d read in books. Zoro wanted to know even more about him and the only way to do that was to ask. 

Zoro found Sanji in the galley, pounding on bread dough. The King gravitated to the galley whenever everyone else was occupied during the day. He’d also taken over breakfast duties, and while sometimes Zoro found an eggshell in his scrambled eggs, the pancakes were runny, and the bacon was burned, Sanji had gotten much better at breakfast items and he was always excited to present the meal he’d made. Having to rotate through one less meal was fine by Zoro and the rest of the crew, and since Sanji’s joy radiated from him from cooking, Zoro found every breakfast to be perfect.

Sanji smiled welcomingly at Zoro, as Zoro set his katanas on the bar and came around to the kitchen area to grab a glass of water. “Hello, Zoro. Did you have a good training day?”

It was late afternoon, and Zoro normally trained after lunch. He’d showered before coming down to the galley in search of Sanji. “Yeah.” He drank half his water down before asking, “What’re you making?”

“Bag-u-et-tes,” Sanji mispronounced, but Zoro figured out he meant baguettes. He’d been working through all the bread recipes he’d memorized, which meant they had some version of bread at every meal. Some were dry, some were not fully cooked, and some were burnt, but Sanji’s heart shone with every loaf baked.

“Sounds good,” Zoro said, and he meant it. He drank more water, leaning against the sink, watching Sanji fold and knead the dough. He’d been thinking about Sanji and what he wanted to ask for a couple days. “I, uh, wondered if I could ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Sanji appeared curious. 

Zoro turned the glass in his hand, feeling slightly awkward. “I wanted to ask about your scars. You have a lot of them.” Sanji’s last fight had been replaying in his mind lately and it reminded him that Sanji was very scarred. Was it from his fighting style, before those body modifications kicked in? 

Sanji stopped kneading the dough. His body stiffened and his expression shuttered. “You want to know how I got them.”

Zoro nodded. 

Sanji studied Zoro, as if weighing him against some internal measure. After a drawn-out, tense moment, he turned his attention back to the dough. “My brothers. They made it a sport to beat me on a weekly basis, sometimes more often.”

Zoro frowned. “How many brothers did you have?”

“Three. I’m a quadruplet. Or was, since they’re deceased,” Sanji said, kneading the dough with more force than he had previously.

“You’re really strong, though…” Zoro tried to imagine the circumstances that would create such heavy scarring, when Sanji could defend himself.

“My brothers were Vinsmokes. They’ve had the modifications since we were kids. There was nothing I could do,” Sanji said with a flatness to his tone that made it seem like he was disassociating himself from the topic. “Fighting back only made it worse.”

Zoro felt his stomach churn. “How long did it go on?”

“Fifteen years, give or take,” Sanji said, folding the dough again. “About thirteen of those I was a captive audience.”

Zoro didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

The disassociated tone continued. “I was locked in the dungeon when I was seven. That’s where I spent my life, until the day of my arranged marriage ceremony.”

The glass shattered in Zoro’s grip.

Sanji jerked as if struck, and Zoro cursed. He crouched to gather the glass pieces, his palm bleeding. “Shit. Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t get any in the bread dough, did I?”

Sanji took a deep breath, and there was a tremble to his shoulders. He blinked at the dough in front of him. “No. It doesn’t look like it.”

Zoro dumped the glass pieces in the trash bin, fetched the broom, and swept the area. He pushed the smaller remains of the glass onto a dustpan and disposed of it. He left a bloody handprint on the broom handle, which caused him to curse again. 

“Your hand.” Sanji sounded concerned, when Zoro rinsed it off in the sink. 

“It’s nothing,” Zoro dismissed. He wiped the broom handle clean with a rag and threw the rag in the dish towel laundry bin. 

“Let me get you a bandage,” Sanji said, quickly walking around Zoro, out of the kitchen area. He headed for the infirmary.

Zoro pressed his non-bloody hand against his eye, which stung from an onswell of emotion. Sanji didn’t get those scars from battles. Sanji got them because he was abused his entire life. And imprisoned. Who the hell imprisons a seven-year-old? No wonder Sanji slept outside when possible, was amazed by everything he saw, talked to himself a lot, and mispronounced some bigger words. He’d been locked up, with only books for company. Zoro remembered Sanji saying that he’d had a lot of time on his hands and that books had been allowed. Zoro thought it meant he’d laid around a plush bedroom, reading because he was a bored royal, not that he’d been in a cell with little to no contact with others. 

Zoro quickly dropped his hand from his eye when Sanji returned with bandages. “Here. Let me have your hand.”

Zoro extended his injured hand to Sanji. Sanji made a soft sound of comfort as he gently wrapped the bandage round Zoro’s palm. “How can you be so kind and caring, after what you’ve been through?”

“Kindness is a choice,” Sanji murmured, his head downturned as he tended to Zoro’s wounds. “I refused to allow my father to win by becoming bitter over my circumstances.”

Zoro’s admiration for Sanji grew tenfold. “You’re pretty amazing.” 

Sanji’s cheeks pinked. “Thank you.” He smoothed his fingers gently over the bandage on Zoro’s hand, tucking the end in. It sent butterflies a-flight in Zoro’s chest. “There. Once you take the bandage off, be sure to keep the area clean. Infections on your palm are no joke.”

Zoro hated that Sanji knew that from experience. He caught Sanji’s hand as Sanji released him, turned his hand over, and ran his thumb across Sanji’s palm. The network of thick scars made Sanji’s palm rough. Zoro was glad that Sanji’s brothers were dead, because Zoro would hunt them down and end their miserable existence otherwise. 

Sanji’s breath stuttered softly, causing Zoro to catch his eye. The pink on Sanji’s cheeks deepened. Zoro felt his heart jump. “This okay?” he asked gruffly, feeling nervous suddenly.

Sanji nodded slightly. “It makes my stomach tingle in a good way.”

His honesty stole Zoro’s breath. “Mine, too,” he confessed.

“What does it mean?” Sanji said.

Zoro didn’t hold back. “That I like you, more than a friend.”

Sanji’s eyes widened with wonder. “Like in the romantic Fairy Tales?”

Zoro tripped over the edge of attraction and fell headlong into love. “Yeah.”

The smile that bloomed across Sanji’s face made Zoro vow, right then and there, to do everything in his power to protect this precious man and make all of his dreams come true. 

Over the next month, Zoro read every romance book he could get his hands on. Some of them were sweet. Some of them were so racy they made Zoro uncomfortable. Some of them involved Knights, Princesses, and dragons, which Zoro paid special attention to while reading. At one port, Zoro took Sanji with him to the bookseller and had him show Zoro his favorite romance tales. Sanji delighted in doing it and also showed him all his other favorites that the bookseller happened to have. Zoro bought the one that included All Blue and the romance tales Sanji had picked out. Zoro was in debt to Nami for three lifetimes, now.

Sanji didn’t need anyone to slay his dragons, nor rescue him from a tower any longer. But Zoro knew he wanted the romance and the fairy tale ending. Zoro worked hard with his nakama’s help, which took two separate island visits and a string of days at sea to set up, all the while spending time with Sanji, talking, listening, and holding hands. Everything about Sanji made Zoro want to be a better person, a worthy one to win Sanji’s heart. Sanji was not weird, nor an enigma. He was special, and he deserved to be cherished above all else. 

The main deck sparkled beneath the strings of fairy lights beneath the crystal night sky. A table was set with fancy finger foods and desserts on a crisp white tablecloth with gold trim. Flowers exploded with color and fragrance in vases spread around the deck. Franky and Brook set up in a corner, playing soft music together on guitar and violin. Everyone wore the finest clothing, gowns and suits in purples, blues, and dove grays. Robin and Usopp had gone with Sanji to pick out a new, regal suit, without his knowledge as to what it was for. Nami had helped Zoro to look less like his normal self and more like someone worthy of a King. 

Luffy escorted Sanji to the Straw Hat ball, where Sanji’s smile lit up the night. Robin and Nami curtsied to the King, the gentlemen bowed, and Sanji was swept up with partners to sway with simple dances. Sanji radiated with wondrous joy. Zoro’s heart sang as he watched Sanji participate in his very first storybook ball, and then it was Zoro’s turn to approach and offer Sanji a hand.

“This humble Knight begs his King’s indulgence for a dance,” Zoro said, with a courtly bow.

Sanji’s cheeks pinked and he placed his hand in Zoro’s extended one. “The King would be honored, fair Knight.”

Zoro pulled Sanji into his arms, held him close, swaying to the soft music. The others fell away, the world narrowing to only them. Nervous butterflies tickled his chest and his neck grew warm. When he spoke, he heard the quiver in his gruff voice. “I have faced a thousand swords, my King, and in every charge, your name was my shield. In every dark battle, your face was my light. I would risk rumor and ruin just for this one moment in time, for the feel of your hand in mine, the press of your body as we dance.”

Sanji’s breath hitched and trembled faintly in Zoro’s arms. “Fair Knight, your words sing like you fight, with purpose and poetry.”

“It is but truth, my King,” Zoro said, reciting the words which he worked so hard to craft. “I long for the peace in your arms more than any battlefield victory. Each time I go to battle, it is not glory that I seek, but a chance to return to you. To this. To us.”

A glitter of happy tears shone in Sanji’s eyes. “Every day that I wear this crown, I feel the weight and the cost it took to come to bear. But I have found friendship where none had been given, and kindness in a world never known. All my life, I have been told that I was nothing, useless, a failure. In your arms, I am not a prisoner or a King, I am a man who has waited too long to be held like this.”

Zoro had to swallow against the emotional lump in his throat. “Then, let me be the arms who hold you. Let me be the one who is always at your side. Let me be your safety and your protector. Let me be yours, for every song, every shadow, every moment within your life.”

“It would be my honor, fair Knight, to have one such as yourself by my side,” Sanji said, squeezing Zoro’s hand. “You belong where my soul finds rest. Let our ending be a happy one.”

“Yaha-mmph!” Luffy’s shout of exuberance was cut off by Robin’s Devil Fruit hand. 

A laugh rolled from Zoro’s chest out into the world, loud and jubilant. He picked Sanji up, swung him around, causing him to cry out a startled, “Oh!” Then, Sanji was laughing, too, a beautiful sound that drew everyone in. Brook and Franky kicked up a lively tune, and the Straw Hats surged in to hug them both and dance. They ate and drank, talked and laughed, and had a wonderful time. The ball went on well into the night.

The day Zoro proposed, he went down on one knee, Wado Ichimonji before him pointed to the ground, his head bowed reverently. “King Vinsmoke Sanji, I have knelt for honor, for battle, and for the crown, but I have never knelt for love until now. You have fought through fire and lived with fear, but you never lost yourself. Sanji, King of a thousand burdens, beloved of my heart, will you marry me?”

Sanji clasped his hands to his chest, his heart in his eyes. “Yes, yes! A thousand times, yes!”

They married in a quiet ceremony beneath a sakura tree, a few months down the Grand Line. And Zoro did his best to bring King Roronoa Sanji his Happily Ever After, just like in his romantic Fairy Tales. 

The End