#bloodwarning

There is one thing clear in this world. Far more set in stone than the World Government and the Celestial Dragons, far clearer than Roger’s mysterious treasure and the will of the mysterious D’s. The Royalty. 

Royal family members are blessed by a divine power that sets them apart from their citizens. Blessed with the gift of flight since birth, Royals are thought to be descendants of wandering Sky Islanders or perhaps Lunarians. Where Skypians have useless white wings and Lunarians have powerful black wings, the wings of Royals are those of birds, beautiful and unique, a show of power and wealth, of who truly stands on the top of the hierarchy. Wings with feathers that even the wealthiest of classes would try to steal, to adorn their clothes, just to prove they have even a fraction of the power of the ruling Royal class. 

To gain a Royal’s feather, a priceless object that so many could only dream of, would be a show of trust and appreciation. But it could also be a show of proud defeat and trickery. Manipulation and coercion.

And to take a Royal’s wing? To take both wings of a Royal? That would be something only true monsters could dream of. A display to proudly mount in their newly conquered throne room or mockingly adorn as a cloak to grieving kings and queens for their lost children. Perhaps even a mix of false sorrow and a show of power to disgraced children no longer welcomed…

The weight of the helmet is heavy, forcing the young boy down and preventing him from properly caring for himself. Caring for his wings. The cold, damp cell he’s been placed in doesn’t help either, only serving to make him shiver as he waits, desperately hoping that maybe one day he’ll no longer be a burden to his father. Hoping that this is just some sort of confused mistake from the guards. Hoping that he truly hasn’t been left here to die.

He doesn’t want to die…

He just wants his mom, her soft arms embracing him, her warm wings protecting them both. Why can’t he have his—

Hands reach for him, dragging, dragging, yanking him. A pain rips through his back, his once beautiful golden back feathers falling around him as hands just keep on pulling him back. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t. He can’t run he can’t escape he can’t—

Sanji wakes from his slumber with a gasp. He hasn’t had that nightmare in a while, not since memories of starving with Zeff on the rock took over. Not since he finally found security again, with Zeff, with his crew. Even when Vivi and the glorious black and blue wings of the Palestine Sun-Bird graced their journey he hadn’t had a dream that bad. And yet…