Chapter Text
It turns out, Zoro knew nothing about Luffy.
He didn’t realize just how greedy that the omega could be, if given the opportunity. A door left slightly cracked open for Luffy to slam completely open and maybe crack the wall behind said metaphorical door.
It’s like the floodgates open to full capacity.
It’s overwhelming, when Zoro realizes that this will likely become his new normal.
Luffy comes to find him more often now. Zoro was used to long stretches of the day by himself. Wake up, breakfast, training with the guards, stopping by the seamstress granny, then having the rest of the day to himself to meander or find some company.
Now, it goes a little something like this:
Zoro wakes up with either Luffy entering his room with a happy chirp of “Good morning, Zoro!” or he wakes up alone, surrounded by the strong scent of hyacinths and sunlight, realizing there is something of Luffy’s he wore the day before left for him on his chest or on the pillow next to his head.
So he wakes up with Luffy’s presence now. It’s not too bad and his alpha is finding comfort in the omega’s claiming scent that greets him before he even opens his eyes.
Training with the guards is as per usual. Tough, fun, dirty.
His skills with a longsword are improving slightly, despite it only being a week. He doesn’t make as many missteps or wrong distancing as he used to. His guidance of the younger guards and pups is increasing as well, and Zoro finds a comfortable companionship with the Commander, Jason. He remains wary of the man though, regardless.
And now, Luffy is either already waiting for him to finish training, peeking at him from the open archway of the palace at the end of the training grounds, or ambushing him in the lonely halls on his way to the tailor.
Usually, Zoro can pick up on Luffy being there at the grounds before there are outward signs. It’s like his alpha is tuned in the omega now, where he is in proximity to him in the palace, as crazy as it feels thinking about it that way.
He gets this slight itchy warmth on the back of his neck, feels like the gold collar grows tighter ever so slightly, and then he typically catches the excited, giggling faces of the pups as they spot Luffy spying on them before Zoro can turn around.
Luffy asked, one morning, after their training had ended, if Zoro would teach him to use a sword.
“Zoro’s the best fighter out there and a good teacher, you could just think of it like training one of the pups.” Luffy tried, only to be shot down immediately.
“No,” Zoro had cocked his head, working a stubborn water stain on the back-end of a blade with a soft cloth against his thumb, ignoring the whining omega pressed against his back.
“It wouldn’t be dangerous if it was Zoro teaching me!”
Luffy nags at him, nuzzles the back of Zoro’s neck like he’s trying to be cute, until Zoro realizes that Luffy is scenting him. It’s also now that he becomes aware that they are definitely not alone out here, a few of the men on the other end of the grounds are watching them.
“You don’t actually want to learn how to use a sword,” he gruffs out, halfheartedly elbowing Luffy behind him to try and get some space, only to have Luffy’s arms comfortably wrapping around his shoulders tightly.
“Boooo. Zoro doesn’t want to play with me, mean Alpha” Luffy pouts, and Zoro shivers when he feels Luffy’s soft lips teasing the back of his ear as he whines at him in that annoying little voice that makes his alpha want to roll over and give him whatever he asks for.
Zoro can’t even tell Luffy to stop showing off, being possessive on purpose while there are eyes on them. Oh, the gossip will spread like wildfire, he’s sure, and Zoro already knows he’s going to get the teasing of a lifetime the next morning he comes to training with the guys.
It’s not just that; the subtle claiming around the guards Zoro has gotten closer to, is the least of his worries where Luffy’s overwhelming attention is concerned.
If anything, it’s the times of being yanked around a hallway corner and shoved into the wall for Luffy to kiss him breathless. Sometimes just satisfied with a quick peck, a tongue across Zoro’s lips before he has to run off to his own duties, but a lot of it is… more.
And this is where Zoro’s problem is.
Luffy is greedy for his kisses, greedy for the noises the alpha makes when he’s nothing but weak putty in his hands, the way his muscles all go slack when Luffy grabs him by the collar and grinds their hips together while simultaneously shoving his tongue down Zoro’s throat.
Greedy, greedy, greedy.
Luffy gets mad at him for the first time since Zoro had flung Luffy off him in the baths. It’s definitely Zoro’s fault this time, too.
Luffy had given him no warning other than a playful giggle perking Zoro’s ears, too late to react to and stop his feet, yanking the alpha around a quiet and empty corridor. He had nudged Zoro back into a dead end corner, a single, lone window being their only light, and the midday sun seemed to curve into the window to keep Luffy aglow.
Zoro had been fine with the kissing, the rough hands in his hair, tugging at his clothes to get at Zoro’s chest so Luffy could bite him and leave teeth marks against his collarbones, his nipples, the top of his abs…
And when Luffy made to get on his knees to drag that biting, sinful wet mouth lower, Zoro had finally flailed to grab Luffy under the arms and haul him back up.
Of course, this got him an upset growl in his face, and Luffy’s pouting lips, which turned away from him when Zoro tried to kiss him in apology.
“Not here,” Zoro had said, and Luffy’s glare could have crumbled the bricks off to the side if it were physically possible.
“No one’s even here, just wanna taste Zoro a little.”
“Aren’t we supposed to wait until after the Solstice to–”
“Since when does Zoro care about what the dumb priests want!?” Luffy had wiggled in Zoro’s arms, grumbled and fought his hold until he could finally get distance between them.
“I just don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to rush it with you.” Zoro admitted, not mentioning that Luffy’s brothers would likely wring his neck if they found out Luffy and him had been romping around the palace for the past two weeks.
“Waiting, waiting, waiting, if I hadn’t actually made you cum before, I’d think Zoro was impotent!”
“Luffy, please?”
The scowling, pouty mouth gets further away from him, and even though Zoro brought this on himself, he still feels wronged about it, feels the way his alpha whines in the back of his head and wants to yank Luffy closer.
“Zoro’s gonna be late for his tailoring,” Luffy barks at him as he turns on his heel and stomps off down the empty hallway.
“Hey–”
“Zoro’s gonna also miss dinner, too? Always avoiding me,” Luffy’s grumbling echos down the hall as he gets further away.
Zoro quickly crosses the space in a few strides, grabbing Luffy’s wrist before he can get any further away making himself upset without Zoro able to explain himself. He’s not expecting the omega to whirl on him when his feet can’t move forward anymore, Luffy yanking at his wrist in the same breath he hisses, little fangs bared in a warning.
It’s when he catches Luffy’s scent, different. Not his usual turned on and excited about being near or on Zoro. This one smells… heavier. Like the sweetness of the omega has deepened into something more mature, heavier, cloying.
“I’m not avoiding you, Luffy. Really. I promise. I just want to do this the right way.” He tries, pulling the hissing, snarling omega in by his arm slowly, expecting to get bit for it.
Zoro relaxes his control on his own pheromones. It feels like the right thing to do, he doesn’t know what’s going on with Luffy, but maybe, he can be a small comfort for him. Unfortunately, it feels like Zoro has been saying the same thing these few days. Waiting, right way, not too fast.
He doesn’t want to sound like he’s running Luffy in circles, but the omega keeps testing him, pushing the boundary for more, like he can make Zoro give up and give in sooner than he wants.
Not to say Zoro would particularly mind. He’d love nothing more than to take Luffy now, mate him and say screw it to the rest of the palace, the kingdom, and anyone else that could come between them. But this is bigger than them. This is bigger than just keeping the peace of the kingdom.
“Oh– There you two are.” A different voice from down the end of the hall. Zoro looks away from Luffy’s flushed and angry face, finding Ace there instead. Immediately, Zoro’s alpha rears to alert in his head.
The other alpha stands there non-threateningly, slouching, both hands shoved deep in the baggy black trousers he wears with nothing else on. The beaded scarlet necklace on his chest clinks softly in the pregnant silence between the three of them when Ace tips his head to the side to look at them oddly, nose wrinkling for a second, scenting the air.
“Were you two–”
Luffy grunts shortly, with attitude, breaking Zoro’s hold on him easily when he yanks his hand down and then turns away, stomping off in the other direction. He slips past Ace and the corner with a fierce swiftness that Ace raises his eyebrows at.
Zoro feels sheepish, like he’d just been caught with his pants around his ankles, despite being well clothed thank you very much. He just hopes there aren’t any kiss marks on his throat, that he doesn’t look as disheveled as Luffy tends to enjoy making him when he kisses him stupid these days.
“Smells like someone’s in their preheat. Eugh, brat.” Ace hisses down the hallway with a click of his tongue, likely staring down Luffy’s back.
Preheat.
Ah, of course. That makes so much more sense, now. Luffy’s increasing clinginess, the reckless possessiveness towards people Zoro wouldn’t even consider as a partner even if he wasn’t courting Luffy already. The moodiness and hotheadedness from the omega all starts becoming more clear.
“Sorry about him,” Ace turns his way now, features softening, into something more of a tease as he gives Zoro a pointed once over, “you haven’t gotten to experience the full force of Luffy in his preheat, huh? Don’t worry, it gets worse.”
“Great,” Zoro groans inwardly, nerves flitting under his skin. Worse. Like this wasn’t Luffy at his peak. That this behavior could somehow amp up to more.
“You’ll be better off laying low, bribing him with snacks, yknow?”
“Luffy comes to find me. I have been laying low,” Zoro huffs. There isn’t much more laying low he can do, without it coming off as avoiding the omega. He’s sure that would blow up in his face even worse than this, if Luffy learned Zoro was actively avoiding him.
Ace gives a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders, like this isn’t any issue to him, while Zoro is losing his mind inside. His alpha had perked at the mention of preheat. It means Luffy is due soon, that he will need to be taken care of, protected more than usual, coddled, touched.
Zoro feels a thorny sort of irritation rising in his chest, when he thinks about Luffy seeking another alpha out to help his heat, despite every indication pointing towards Luffy wanting Zoro.
“Hey, don’t worry about it too much. Luffy will get over it eventually. Now, how are those dance lessons coming along?”
Zoro feels his mood sour, shifting, as a new but equally as worrying subject is brought to his mind.
“Don’t get me started,” he grumbles.
Dance lessons, as he dreadfully figured out, were like a new form of torture. Gone was psychological warfare that preyed on insecurities or phobias or what have you. This was a different mind game and physical beating.
His first impression was an absolutely terrible one, by Zoro’s standards. He’d gone to the seamstress granny as usual, but was surprised to see the room entirely empty. Surely he wasn’t forgotten right?
But then, a servant had come racing down the hallway out of breath and flushed in the face, eyes widening as she saw Zoro standing around the fitting room confused and aimless.
“Lord Alpha! Ah- my deepest apologies, please forgive us, it really is our fault for not–”
He held up a hand, stopping the painful beginning of grovelling that he still hasn’t been able to teach out of the servants towards him.
“Your fittings will be now replaced with your dance rehearsals. As the Festival is soon, we have not enough time to allow you to see the end of your ceremonial robes being made and teaching you our dance customs, so…”
The servant continued on, looking pale and sickly the longer she talked, head bowing further which each second. Zoro seriously didn’t know what more he could do differently to have the palace servants be less scared of him.
But it was beginning to feel less that they were scared of him as an Alpha, and more so about his importance to Luffy.
It seemed significantly more probable as these weeks had gone on.
It was glaringly obvious, confirmed even, towards the end of his dance practices.
He had spent days watching and mirroring different dancers, tripping over his own feet, always complaining about his feet aching from the wooden floors.
But now, this day was different. He was to practice with a partner. The much older man that had led the teachings and education of the recitals, simply clapped his hands and told them to pair up.
Zoro had stood patiently in the middle of the room, uncaring who ended up being his partner for the practice. Everyone else in here was much more knowledgeable and talented at the dances than he was, and they could lead to show him the right way…
Except no one approached him. Zoro watched the other people huddled together, whispering among each other looking nervous.
Gods above, was he that bad? He had thought he was at least somewhat improving…
“This is absolutely absurd,” the instructor had barked at them all, pointing to the group huddled together with the long, thin stick he always kept in his hands, “partner up. Now.”
In a scramble, Zoro watched his fellow classmates all find someone amongst themselves, staying shoulder to shoulder and some even tightly holding one another's hands. The only one left unpartnered was a taller woman, nervously looking around the paired groups like she could find someone solo.
“You’ll be a perfect choice, you’re a beta,” one of the classmates whispered at her, giving her a small nudge with her hand.
“Just because I cannot smell–”
“You! Come now, pair up, enough talking and more dancing before I lose my patience.”
And so, that was how Zoro had paired up with a reluctant partner for his practices. A disaster again as she was hesitant to touch him. It was necessary for the small hand to hand parts of the choreography.
He’d stepped on her feet one too many times, embarrassed apologies a near constant from his mouth more than the breaths he was apparently meant to be counting to keep timing of his steps.
Too much to think about honestly. Wasn’t dancing supposed to be freeing and fun? So he’d heard, not that it was something he had any sort of interest in…
He imagined Luffy taking these sort of classes would be exponentially worse than his own experiences. Luffy would likely be doing his own thing, wild limbs and giggles and probably something ridiculously silly.
Zoro doesn’t realize he’s smiling thinking about the fantasy until the girl in front of him clears her throat.
They complete a rotation, fingers held a breath away from each other in the air by their shoulders. Zoro feels a little flustered, mostly because the stare he’s met with is quite judgemental…
“Please refrain from thinking about whatever you were just thinking about,” she mutters stern but with an air of nerves, “I would rather not have your scent on me.”
Zoro almost reacts. Offense jerks his alpha’s head up. He certainly wasn’t scenting her, nor would he try to. As he opens his mouth to at least explain himself and maybe get some more information out of her, she cuts him off.
“I cannot smell you, or the pheromones left on you from The Solaris. But I have enough mind to make friends with those who can warn me,” she gives him a hard look, and Zoro almost misses his next three steps, but her small feet between his forcibly guide him back into step.
The instructor at the far end of the room claps sharply, signaling the drumbeat that they are to use to switch pace. Their footsteps become quicker, and everyone must precisely step and lean exactly as taught or they risk bumping into each other. Their rotation switches to the other direction, and Zoro folds a sweaty hand behind his back formally as he was taught to, raises his other hand for the girl to mirror him and guide him into a spin as they dance backwards.
“It is obvious that He does not wish anyone near you. It has been getting stronger these past few days.”
Zoro has noticed something a bit different, he cannot lie.
The gifts left in his bed in the mornings are stronger, sweeter. Linen pants and undershirts that have obviously been worn in the sun and worn during strenuous play or exercise, though Zoro does not imagine Luffy ever intentionally exercises... Luffy’s scent sticks to them intensely anyway, dried sweat and warm sunshine. It’s infuriatingly enticing to Zoro, but he supposes that this sentiment and pull cannot be shared with others.
In the quiet, lonely minutes of his mornings when he is still held down by the hands of Sleep, Zoro rolls over in his bed and sheets and buries his face in Luffy’s offerings, nuzzling, mouthing along the seams, shamefully swinging a leg over an extra pillow and imagining that it’s Luffy under him instead.
“I have been told that it is so strong on you that the scent is almost like a shove,” she continues, pointedly and gracefully avoiding any contact between them as the dance spins them to be closer, they are the only two in the room not touching, “Like Nika himself is keeping a barrier around you.”
Zoro swallows against the rising buzz of energy, nervous and guilty all at once even though he’s not even done anything wrong. Zoro has been too comfortable lavashing in Luffy’s scent he entirely forgot that other people around him would likely be put off, especially if he was smothered in the scent of an irritated omega in preheat.
Before Zoro can open his mouth to offer some sort of apology, she’s cutting in again, controlling the conversation the same way in which she does their dance, footsteps light but unyielding, and Zoro is helpless but to trail along.
“It is not a problem I am asking you to correct, Lord Alpha. We are all servants to Nika and His wishes are unquestionable. I merely wish to express my concerns, for my own safety—”
Safety? Confused, Zoro misses his next step, bites his tongue when he stumbles and accidentally steps on her foot, feels his gravity swoop under him as their momentum continues—
She is surprisingly strong, catching him at the hand and yanking just hard enough to keep his ass off the floor before she lets him go like he’s scalding. He might as well be as he comes to terms with his embarrassment, Nika’s influence runs hot over his skin, and Luffy’s scent has blanketed him so strongly that even betas are apparently worried about the smallest brush of contact.
“Lord Alpha, I mean no disrespect to you,” she bows her head slightly, nothing but formalities as she continues to speak, sharp brown eyes meeting his, “Your Omega has left a clear stake on you. I do not wish to come across His jealous path. He treats you like no other alpha I have seen brought to our kingdom. I have a healthy fear of The Solaris and the wrath he can bring if there were some misunderstanding that I wished to be closer with you. I hope you can understand.”
Zoro feels dumbstruck for a moment. Clarity strikes him suddenly.
“Luffy isn’t dangerous.”
“To you,” she hisses back at him. It is now that the room has grown quiet, all eyes turned to them.
“Nika has killed before. His own alphas, who is to say he would not kill someone lower than a mate?”
Rage is white hot in his veins. Zoro growls, a low rattle of the room that makes many who are watching suddenly cower back and drop their heads. The woman in front of him still meets his eyes with steely conviction. She is convinced that Luffy would hurt her.
“Luffy is not a killer, and certainly not over something as mundane as you touching me for a dance practice.”
Silence falls between them, Zoro stares at the woman, and her eyes remain hard, disbelieving.
Zoro feels an itch under his skin, the way his alpha burns just under the surface.
“Insult him again and I promise, Luffy will not be the one between us that you will need to be scared of.”
Word gets around quickly. Just as Zoro had suspected, everyone is a gossip, and anything in regards to himself and Luffy is juicy and spreads wild.
It’s only the next day, the next morning. It hasn’t even been a full twelve hours, and Sabo is greeting him as he trails through the halls to go to training.
“So I hear you’re threatening servants now,” the blonde hedges carefully, amusement in his tone.
Zoro rolls his eyes, itching for a sword in his hands so he can spend the next few hours beating into strawdummies and slicing dried bamboo.
“I’m not threatening anyone.”
“Not what I heard.”
“This whole palace is,” Zoro searches for the right words in frustration, but can’t find them, and spits “rotten.”
Misguided. Eyes shaded and minds warped. Hearts so obviously in the wrong place where it concerns his omega.
“Zoro,” Sabo says calm but firm, and it catches his attention enough to pause his steps. Sabo stares at him for a second without saying anything.
“I appreciate you standing up for my brother. But please, do not make enemies among the people of the palace. They don’t know better.”
“I have been here for less than a year and I can see clearer than the people who have lived here their whole lives? When does this cross from pure ignorance to a willful blindness to the truth.”
“Are you not worried for yourself?”
“Luffy won’t hurt me.”
“So confident,” Sabo places his hands behind his back, Zoro cannot read his face or what he must be thinking, “But he could. I cannot deny the fact that Nika is stronger than Luffy, during his heat especially, and that he has been the death of many alphas before you. We cannot lie to people and say that this is not happening.”
“It’s not like he wants to—”
“If he wanted to or not, does not cross the minds of those that serve him. All they see is the blood on his hands, the number of corpses around him, and the priests that continue to push him onto a pedestal none of us can reach.”
“What is your point,” Zoro growls, finding his irritation rising.
“My point, is that I love my brother very much. We have worked very hard, carefully, to maintain the peace that we live in now. I do not want to make enemies of the people we must live with.”
“It sounds to me like you don’t want anything to change. You’re okay with Luffy not being free?”
Zoro finally catches a hint of something in the blonde’s face. In the way his eyes widen, worry coloring his features under that hard edge of ‘concerned older brother’.
“I want nothing more than for Luffy’s freedom, but that will not come from scaring the servants around you.”
“You’re seriously lecturing me right now for defending Luffy?”
“Not a lecture. Just a word of caution. A palace cannot be built in one day.”
Zoro turns, finally walking away from Sabo and their conversation, but not before responding,
“No, but it can be torn down within one.”
The moon that night is full, bright, larger than usual, almost with a pink glow to its edges. Zoro finds himself tossing and turning in his bed, unable to settle his mind.
He turns, pulls a pillow against himself and tucks his face against it, where he’s dressed it with Luffy’s offered clothes. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that the omega is laying here with him instead.
He’s not sure where one breath has begun in the waking world, and when the next comes with the sands of dreaming.
When he opens his eyes, it is to the moon having drawn almost closer to his window, and the pink glow to it has washed it entirely so that the moonbeams falling over the room are rose-tinted.
In his peripheral vision, he spots a glow of white. Pure moonlight. But when he turns to catch it, a light giggle hides behind his shoulder with a whisper of a breeze.
“Zoro,” Luffy’s voice comes from behind, light and gentle in a way that he is certain the omega is smiling. Beaming.
He tries to turn again, wants to see Luffy, but as he spins around, he is met with the long, daunting climb of the stairs leading up to the palace. He had walked these same stairs coming into the kingdom.
The moonlight has dimmed around him, almost eerie in its glow, illuminating the pristine sandstone steps.
From above, high up in the palace, there is a scream.
“Don’t look.” A whisper calls to him from behind, a voice like Luffy’s again, but lighter.
Nika.
Zoro stares up the steps, heart a heavy, cold stone in his throat. That was Luffy screaming. His mate, in trouble.
His foot rises, takes the first stair of the palace, and sunlight wraps around his wrist, warm but desperate.
“Don’t look.” It begs.
A gut wrenching sob shakes the air, pain lancing every inch of his body when he hears Luffy wailing again, so loud and horrid that the stones of the palace tremble, sand falling from every corner.
“You must not go. You must not let him away from you.”
The warmth on his skin spills off him like water when he breaks off into a sprint, climbing the stairs of the palace three at a time. The tall, open entry is pitch black. It feels that no matter how hard he runs, no matter how many steps he climbs, it does not get any closer.
Suddenly, dizzyingly quick, he reaches the top faster than his mind can comprehend it. He stares into the inky black void beyond the entry, hears Luffy screaming again, a name that he has heard before, and a blinding flash of white-hot sunlight exploding from the inner depths of the palace.
It streaks from between the stones, illuminates the sky in a solar flare of radiance that Zoro can’t look at, finds himself closing his eyes again with the pain of the light and heat. It knocks him back suddenly, and Zoro topples backwards, head first to the steps he just climbed.
As he is certain he will split his head open on the sharp edges of the stairs, that same warm cradle of light takes him behind the neck, slowing his descent until he is laid back on a soft cloud.
He still cannot open his eyes, too bright, too warm, even as the touches caress his neck, his cheeks, brushes hair back off his face.
“Zoro. You cannot leave him. Please.”
The drop of a tear on his face only makes Zoro turn his face against the hand against his cheek.
Who? He cannot find himself to ask, as grief fills his chest and begins to pour up from his throat in ragged, chilling thorns.
Please. Tell me who. I will. I will stay with him, just tell me who.
The tears continue to fall, a light pitter-patter on his skin, and then the heavens above open, and the warmth of the sun is washed away by the torrential floods of rain. Ice cold, bone chilling. Soaking him.
Zoro shoots upright with a bolt of dread. The sheets have all been kicked off the bed in his tossing, and he is entirely drenched in sweat, can feel it dripping down his neck and spine. His chest heaves, gulping down air like he had somehow forgotten to breathe.
He brings a hand up to his face and is shocked to find warm tears on his face, eyes burning.
And even as the room is barely lit with the beginnings of sunrise, Zoro notices the band of red around his wrist.
A sunburn.