King shivers, and he lets go of you, walking away.
His words echo in your mind.
The pirate lifts his finger, and his fire appears again, so he can light up a candle to weaken the darkness.
He keeps his crimson eyes on the flames as he continues.
"Whenever I look at you, I see both lines of the blood you carry," he says. "I see my kind and see the one that made us disappear from the face of the earth."
"Humans?"
"The hatred of humanity spreads between all of them like a disease," growls King. "It's a poison of minds, shattering dreams."
"You threaten with death and take away my freedom. You have no right to talk about hatred."
"I didn't take your freedom, Halfblood," he answers. "You never had any because you weren't strong enough to protect it."
"How would I become strong enough if I was a slave ever since I remember?!" you yell at him, fighting to hold your emotions back.
King freezes and lours, but his features suddenly soften. The red eyes find the bloody piercing, where he dropped it to the floor earlier.
"Lower your voice if you talk to me," he says calmly. You scowl and try to moderate your breath. "Where did you come from?"
You stay silent, and he sighs deeply.
"I don't know what will happen to you here by my hands, but whatever past chases you, it can't pass Wano's borders. I give my word to that. And I won't hurt you either, as long as you don't oppose me."
You cast down your eyes but still don't answer him. King shakes his head, and you feel enchanted just by watching his white hair flowing from the movement.
His fingers comb through the silvery locks as he gathers them, then takes on the dark mask to hide his face again.
You can't understand or explain the feeling, but a hollow opens in your heart that you never noticed being filled in.
Loneliness runs through your veins, making your blood heavy and dense.
People only feel lonely after they learn what it's like to have someone who hears their voice.
King secures the mask and runs his hands on its sides to make sure it's up well.
The Lunarian walks to the door, and the distance grows between you and him.
"I'm going to get everything I need to heal your wings," he says. "You stay here. If you try to leave, you are dead."
"Why do you want to heal them?"
"Those wings are a gift for my blood. I can't stand seeing them broken."
"It doesn't matter. I can't fly."
King looks back at you, and you shiver when you see the mask again, hiding all his emotions.
"The question isn't about that," he answers. You tilt your head confusedly, and the man closes his bright eyes for a moment. "It's about whether you want it or not."
Your heart misses a beat, but the pirate takes his leave before you would say anything.
After the lock of the door sounds, complete silence falls over the room. You stay on the floor and glare into nothing for a long time before you move.
You feel the numb pain of your tongue, but at least the bleeding stopped.
You stand up, and despite the situation, you start smiling. No chains or shackles are left, even if this place is just another prison to be closed in.
And for the first time in your life, you met someone similar to you, even if he denies it.
You look around the mesmerizing place. The lower part is dark and full of shadows, but you can see a carving on the wooden walls.
They seem to be subtle, nature-inspired patterns. As you walk closer, you notice how the forms never really come together.
They flow around the place in circular lines, blooming and twisting around each other-
Like flames.
"You don't have our fire inside you, nor our eyes."
You shake as you remember his quiet, enclosed tone. The carving pulls you to another world, even if you can't see it.
As you watch it for a longer time, you recognize four main strokes carrying the ornamentation through the wood, guiding its way.
There's the smallest, with sharp, rough edges like the stars' cold gleaming in the night. It's thin and dynamic. You can almost see the way of the chisel as the craftsman created it.
Then the one that feels like a forest, with leaves and rare flowers moving through its scheme.
Another, wider one reminds you of clouds and mist. It takes more space, spreading into the territory of the other lines.
You lift your left hand.
And the last one, the most detailed and diversified, blends the sharp edges and soft strokes, leading the way for all the other three. Flames.
You lift your right.
You gasp for air as your wings flinch and the pain arrives. They moved up with a fast, subconscious turn. You have to gain control over them again.
While your eyes follow the ornament, your hands start moving to the rhythm and flow of the two more significant lines. A smile spreads on your lips as you draw the same lines in the air.
You imitate the carving, up, down, across, and around.
You start walking and find where the pattern turns into itself, opposite King's bed, under the rosace of the distant heights.
The strokes join and flow around something you can't identify well in the shadows.
Your hands follow its way, and you scowl. The pattern starts from here to bend into its prime. It begins the next never-ending circle.
But your muscles tense up, and even your heart misses a beat. You can't continue because something is missing, and all your nerves, all your cells feel it.
"How did you follow it?" sounds a deep voice behind your back, and you freeze in your whole body.
I didn't hear him coming back.
"I didn't want to," you answer without turning around. Your fear returns and grows more powerful than before.
"Answer," he whispers. You gulp and take a deep breath to calm down.
"The carving dances, doesn't it?" you ask silently. "I... saw it. I saw the dance and followed it. I don't know how or why."
You hear his steps and as he throws something down on the bed.
The tall man arrives at your side, and you close your eyes from the sound of his mask when he takes it off. He stands two steps behind you.
"You reached this part by the trails?"
After you slowly nod, you dare to look at him again. King is watching the pattern's end and beginning, with a lour on his sharp features.
A soft, almost invisible curtain of pain closes above his face.
"It took me years to finish this," he says. "Part of you is Lunarian, so you have a chance to see it. Although I didn't expect you could."
"Something is missing," you whisper.
"And it always will," answers King. "I'm surprised you sensed it, but you can't understand. You're only a Halfblood."
He turns around, but you suddenly feel anger boiling in your mind as his disappointment and grief filter through the last sentence.
"You said you don't care if I can't. It's about whether I want it or not," you say.
"Don't you dare use my words against me!" snaps King, and you shiver from his sharp voice.
The man frowns for a moment from your reaction, then shakes his head and walks back to the bed.
You see as he takes off his gloves, throwing them above the nightstand.
"Come. Your wings will need time to recover. I'll set them right."
When you don't move, he looks at you with displease.
"I told you why it's important, so don't push my patience," says King with a harsher tone. You bite your lip and go closer, sitting on the bed after he asks you.
Your fingers dig into the skin of your thighs while waiting, your eyes locked on the wall over the pillows.
As you watch the carving for around half a minute, you feel your muscles straining in your arms as they want to follow the pattern again.
But you tremble when he suddenly touches your back. King tsk-s silently as he feels your shudder, and his movements become slower and more careful.
He gathers your hair and places it over your shoulder.
You reach for it with your left hand, silently playing with the locks. The man runs his fingers over the upper part of your wing gently.
It connects him to his lost past, even if you aren't worthy of having them in his eyes.
Your head drops from the slight pain as he moves the broken part. The wing is stiff and rigid.
King whispers something to himself that you can't hear, then he checks the left one. Your eyes are wide as you prepare yourself for what may come.
"Who did this?" he asks.
Your fists clench.
"You can't expect honesty from me if you don't return it," says the Lunarian. "I don't like reminding you, but your life is only in my hands now. As long as you stay here, I want balance. For that, you must answer my questions, so I'll answer yours."
You freeze as he rips the back of your shirt. You scaredly cross your arms over your chest. But King stops as he sees the mark and the scars on your back.
You hear as he takes a step away.
"Mariejois," he says silently.
You nod and feel the slight shaking of your hands. You straighten your back.
"Maybe you look down on me for being a Halfblood," you whisper, your stomach turning from using this word. "But it was enough for the World Nobles."
King doesn't react, and you push your tongue to your palate to feel its numbness.
"I never gave up on escaping," you continue. "The Celestial Dragons took my wings as a punishment, then took my voice."
You turn around and feel your eyes burning as you stop your tears, not to show weakness. King's face is emotionless and serious as you talk again.
"Don't think you're the only one who hates humanity."
Suddenly the man smiles, and your heart drops as you see it. He comes closer again and leans down, his hair falling like molten silver. You recoil as you feel his scent so close.
"Don't let their hate spread," he whispers softly.
King touches your face and turns it away. Your heart misses a beat from the sadness in his words. You don't have enough power to resist.
His hands arrive at your wing again, and you feel the grip growing stronger, searching for the right direction. You cast down your eyes.
"This won't be easy, Half-"
"[Y/N]."
His thumb brushes a black feather, and he waits for a few seconds. Your heart beats faster again, but it falls back to the shadows as he answers. His voice is quiet and distant.
"Stay still, Halfblood."
And you hear the snap of your bones.
.
.
.
Several hours later
You're sitting on the carpet, watching the carving of the walls again. You memorized the order of movements and keep repeating it, but you stop whenever you reach the turning point.
King disappeared after he secured and tied both your wings, but he told you not to touch anything.
Even if it hurt, it was a different kind of pain from before. Now they are truly healing, returning to the form they were always supposed to take.
You hear the man entering the room. He walks closer to you and watches your attempts for a few minutes.
"Can you see the four main strokes?" asks King. The edge of his tone faded away. Wherever he was, it helped him regain his calm.
You let down your hands. When you see the mask hiding the Lunarian's face, that strange loneliness appears again.
You rather close your eyes and turn away.
"I think so."
"Name them."
You lour confusedly and lean closer to the carving, trying to see more of it.
The impressions come into your mind from earlier, when you first followed the ornament.
You answer before thinking about it.
"Stars, forest, mist, flames."
He looks at you surprisedly.
"Almost," he says with apparent disbelief. "Sky, earth, blood, fire. Your hands follow the last two."
"I don't understand," you whisper.
King takes his mask and gloves off, then steps to the carving, gently placing his bare hand over the middle of the circular pattern.
You can't believe the amount of care and tenderness in a single touch.
He looks at the spirals of books and the windows in the distance. You shiver as you notice the edge of a deep scar, showing up for a second by his sleeve as he lifts his arm.
Even a man like you isn't perfect.
A slight smile plays on his lips.
"This place holds everything I could save from the Lunarians' world," he says, turning back to you. "And if you can see it, I will help you understand."
King's calmness turns disturbed like a lake's surface after the first raindrop in a storm. It happens every time he looks into your eyes, a human's eyes.
"The dance of the Sun and the Moon."
.
.
.