Archive of Our Own

“There. I am sure that this time you will fulfil your role properly,” Outlook the Third said.

Sabo blinked blearily up at his father. His head throbbed and felt full of wool. He was lying on something that felt like a stone slab. It was cold and hard and felt wonderfully steady to his jumbled senses.

“Did y’drug me?” he managed to spit out. His tongue felt swollen and unwieldy.

“Nonsense. You have received the sacred wine in preparation for the ceremony.” His father scoffed. “Of course I should have known one such as you would not have the appropriate response. Even now you must shame me.”

Sabo was still stuck on one of the first things his father said, and therefore missed the reprimand. “Cer’mony?”

Memories were sluggish to rise. Oh. yes. There had been the banquet. And the usual ceremony of the choosing of the sacrifice…

His eyes flew wide open. He could feel how adrenaline tried to surge through his veins but ran into the wall of whatever herbs and drugs had been mixed into his wine.

“Ah, it seems you finally remember. Good. Do compose yourself with dignity at the ceremony,” Outlook ordered. “It will be the last thing you do, so you better not leave a disgraceful final impression.”

Sabo stared at his father, breath rabbit-quick and heart hammering uselessly. He tried to push himself up but his arms refused to obey his commands, flailing weakly and uncoordinated as he tried to get them beneath him. “You’re lettin’ them sacrifice me. Why? You always- Why would you let them?!”

Outlook sniffed disdainfully. “Why not. You were the noble-born son selected for this year’s ceremony through divine ritual. If you had had a wedded wife I would have had an excuse to abdicate you, but your insolence had chased off the one I had selected for you. There are great benefits for the families that provide a sacrifice, and since you have refused to be of use to me any other way I see no reason to decline this opportunity.”

“You’re going to let them kill me… because I don’t do what you want?”

Even having known pretty much all his life that he only meant as much to his family as what he could offer in future prospects, that was a blow. For years his father had kept him from escaping, had kept him like a dog on a leash, yanking him back painfully whenever he tried to make a run for freedom. All his life he had heard how much his life was meant only as much as he could do to improve the family’s standing. But it had always been in terms of marriages and connections. To be cast away like this now, after so long, after everything he had tried to get away…

For so long, Sabo had hoped his father would give up on him. But to have it happen like this…

Somehow, a part of him had still been naïve. And now a cruel knife sunk deeply into that part, drawing blood with a pained cry Sabo could only barely keep behind his teeth. He wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction.

His soul though, wailed in despair. Because this was his father, and he was letting him die. And yet part of him was only frozen with the cold realization of hindsight. Status was everything. Reputation was everything. Two altars on which his father was willing to sacrifice anything that stood in his way. As Sabo had. Numerous times.

Part of him was betrayed. But most of him was cursing his own blindness.

“You were born to bring glory to your family. If this is the only way that will make you fulfil your duty then so be it.”

With that, Outlook turned away sharply. For the first time, Sabo noticed the other people in the room. White robes, ornamental golden jewelry, the holy mark of the pantheon on their brow…

Priests. He was surrounded by priests.

Sabo looked around. Desperation was clawing at his throat. But around him were smooth marble walls, without window or ledge. The only ways out were the single door his father had disappeared through and that was now pointedly being closed by a muscular acolyte, and the hole in the ceiling high above to let the smoke from the fires escape and let fresh air in. He cast his eyes around for a weapon, but he saw none. Braziers sat around the room, but none that he could use. They were made of solid blocks of marble that were hollowed out at the top, making them near impossible to move.

There was nothing around him that he could use to defend himself. Nothing but possibly the contents of a large chest, which he was separated from by a row of acolytes and priests who stood calm and formal but with an air that said they were well used to sacrifices trying to make escapes and weren’t going to allow it.

“Young lord Sabo, it is time for your preparations,” the head priest said with a bow. The old man’s wizened eyes looked at him as if he was already laying on the altar.

Even knowing his chances, Sabo tried to make a break for it. With almost bored expressions, the priestly aides intercepted him. His sluggish, disobedient limbs were no match for their practiced movements.

The last he clearly remembered was being held down on the stone bed he had woken up on as strange-tasting wine was forced past his throat and burned in his lungs. The feeling of drowning chased him in his dreams, which were filled with feverish brightness and colors blurring into each other in nauseating ways.

~X~

Thoughts were fragmented. Hazy as ghosts in thick mist. Someone washed him in warm, scented water, and his body was laved with oils and perfumes.

He barely noticed getting dressed in translucent linen and being seated. Something was secured around his wrists and ankles.

“Sit upright, young lord.”

A hand pushed at his head, on which something like a circlet was placed. He could vaguely feel the weight of it on his brow as he was brought into position like a doll. He felt more doll than human, with as much care for his surroundings as any inanimate object. He heard the words but they meant nothing.

“Secure him properly.”

There was more activity around him, and it held exactly as much meaning to him as the rustling of leaves in the wind. Decorative flowers were tucked around him, their colors running into each other till they were unidentifiable.

The sunlight was bright when he was carried into it. It did not touch him.

~X~

Coldness met his back. Sabo hissed. Something of the deep fog of drugs hanging around his brain lifted a little.

Blearily he looked around this new room. It was a great hall, large and spacious, with a ceiling so high it was shrouded in shadows despite massive braziers holding literal bonfires lighting up the place. Windows high up in the wall let in the afternoon light, spilling light onto the alcoves lining meticulously polished walls, which fractured on smooth stone and curling smoke. Each alcove held a statue with an altar in front of it, and ornate pillars with braziers at the foot separated them. The largest alcove occupied one entire wall, with a statue so gigantic it barely fit the alcove.

It was at the largest altar at the feet of this massive statue that Sabo found himself on. The marble image of the Great God King Whitebeard, King of the Earthly Pantheon rose like a giant over him, larger than any of the other statues in the temple. The Father of Earth and Oceans, Master of the Mortal Realm. From Sabo’s position he could not see the God’s face very well. Only the large moon-shaped moustache was recognizable from below. On the other side of the room sat large bronze double doors. They were firmly closed.

It took him a long time to realize where he was because he had never been allowed in this place before, but when he did panic took flight frantic and pained as a bird with broken wings. Cold iron clinked with dark finality as he struggled weakly. He was helpless as a new-born kitten, and nothing he did seemed to be as much as noticed by the priests tightened the chains around his limbs and secured them at the base of the altar. Flowers were woven in the links as if to hide the iron that bound him, and he could feel more flowers in his hair and along his body. Around the altar other sacrifices were piled up high.

Sabo had witnessed this ceremony a number of times in his life. Held every year in varying forms, he knew exactly where it ended for those watching. He knew that the procession had already been finished, because this couldn’t be anything else but the innermost sanctuary of the largest temple in the whole country. It was the only temple in the city where all the Gods of the Mortal Realm were united in a single sanctuary, and it stood high above the city at the center of the temple complex. Even tied down, he could still see the faces of the closest statues, and he knew exactly who they were.

He had no idea what he had looked like during the procession. He hoped he had looked as drugged as he felt and left his family with one last shame.

It was a painful, fragile hope, a last sputtering of spite. Because Sabo knew, better than anything, that it was far, far too late to hope for anything more. Tears and anger burned in his throat.

He knew that none who entered the inner sanctuaries of the temples as a sacrifice left them alive.

Above him, the head priest had taken position and was beginning to chant. The air was thick with the scent of incense, clogging his nose.

“Oh Great Lord of the Mortal Realm, Master of Mountain and Plains, King of Earth and Oceans, hear me. Your humble servants have brought great gifts to honor you-“

Sabo didn’t pay attention to the ceremonies taking place around him, barely heard the chanting and the singing. He was desperately trying to get himself to move, to do anything but lay there as a docile puppet. But his body barely responded. The taste of herbs and wine was oppressive and filled his mouth so much that it felt as if he was choking.

A lamb was lifted beside him onto the altar. It’s little hooves kicked against Sabo’s sides. The beautiful ornate knife of the head priest rose and fell. Hot blood splattered over his chest, droplets falling on his face and throat and staining the white linen of the sacrificial garb. The dying animal was laid down beside him, it’s little head resting upon his chest. Sabo could feel the life fade from the small form as blood streamed over his skin and pooled underneath them.

Fear clawed at his throat. His frantic struggles were barely enough to make the heavy iron chains let out a single sound. His body felt heavy as if he was encased in ten layers of the thickest armor there was.

A calf was the next animal to be sacrificed on the altar he was bound to. It took longer to die than the lamb and its death throes only expounded Sabo’s own struggles. There was so much blood coating him now it felt as if he himself was the one bleeding out.

His heart was hammering in his chest. He knew the moment he himself would be made to bleed for the marble God was nearing.

unexpectedly, his mouth was pried open and something poured in. Sabo caught a glimpse of color, but it was gone too quick for him to identify. It felt gritty and dusty in his mouth, as if it was sand or clay dust they were feeding him. A hand clamped over his mouth before he could spit it out, and his nose was pressed closed. His lungs protested immediately. He held his breath for as long as he could but in the end, his body chose to swallow regardless of his consent. Once, twice, trice, before finally the hands lifted and he could take a deep, desperate breath.

His lungs seized as some of the dust still lingering on his tongue came along with that deep, hurried gasp.

There was yellow dust staining the priest’s hands. His entire being went cold.

Stone saffron. They had fed him stone saffron. The poison that was found in mines and ores, that called those who took it into their bodies to the great halls of the Earth God. It was sacred. Rare. A bright yellow mineral that was so toxic all who mined it died. The price of bringing the God’s ore above ground.

With as much as Sabo had felt filling his mouth, he knew he was dead ten times over.

As if on cue, his stomach cramped, like a knife being plunged into his abdomen. The urge to throw up was immense, but the wine from before had done something, and all that happened was acid rising in his throat and sitting sharply at the back of his mouth. It was a disconcerting counterpoint to the remnants of wine and the overpowering scent of incense, and felt realer than either of those.

All he could do was gasp and pant weakly as the sensations increased till it felt as if his stomach was eating itself. The feeling spread from every organ to his joints. By the time the ceremony drew to a close a strange numbness had gathered around his fingers and feet. The room was spinning around him as the bronze doors closed one final time and he was left amidst the death and the dying.

All gifts had been given. All prayers said. The priests had left. The great hall was solely the Gods' domain once more. 

His eyes roved the room. Out of exhaustion or a naïve need to look for a way out, he didn’t know. His being slowly settled in the acceptance of death. The numbness was spreading fast as he stared at the bounty left at the altars. There the offerings were plentiful. Food, riches, all kinds of valuable things. Animals by the droves. Clothing. Jewelry. Everything liberally decorated with ribbons and flowers. The King of the Mortal Realm and his pantheon had been honored and honored well. The altar of the God King had the most, being the main altar, but the sixteen lesser Gods had almost as much sacrificed in their name.

He wasn’t the only human who was killed in the name of the pantheon. The only noble born, but common men and women laid dead or dying on the other altars, having been sacrificed in ways that befitted the God the altar was dedicated to. A small horde laid scattered at the foot of the altar he laid at; upon the secondary altars of the God King. Others were laid out at the other alters. Drowned, pierced by wooden branches, a stone sword thought he heart, exsanguinated- the methods were as varied as the Gods themselves.

His eyes strayed to the God on the left side of Whitebeard’s statue. The God of Fire and Battle and Defiance. The one who Burned Away the Old to make way for the New. Who refused to be bound by any tradition or rule.

It was the God Sabo had felt the most connection to his whole life. The son of the God King of the Underworld and the Lady of the Seasons, who had abandoned his father’s dark Realm for the Realms of the living. Who was of the Earthly pantheon, yet also of the Underworld and the Sky, having connection to all three God Kings. Born to the God King of the Underworld. A core member of the God King of the Earth and Ocean’s inner circle. The one who was the beloved older brother of Luffy, the young God King of the Skies, and for whom the sun had been built to serve as his home in the heavens.

Ace.

The artist who had made his statue had done him well. The smile was exactly the kind of cocky Sabo had always envisioned, with a warmth to it that gave him an air of good humor without taking away from the impression of looming danger.

Ace was whose temple he had visited the most, whom he had felt drawn to from a very young age. Often those visits had been paid in secret, as his father thought that Ace was not an appropriate God for a young noble to worship. Sabo had never failed to add his own offerings to the ceremonies at Ace’s temple, even if he had to pledge them under a different name.

Ace was Sabo’s favorite god. The tales about him were always full of adventure. Ace, who had taken the knowledge of how to make fire without Godly powers with him when he left his father’s Realm and had shared the secret of it with the humans he came across when they were in need. Who had fought the God King of the Earth and Oceans himself when Whitebeard came to see who had trespassed in his Realm. Whitebeard had demanded that Ace bowed to his will while in his Realm, but Ace had defied that order and had faced the God King in combat. Ace had lost, but that defiance was something Sabo deeply admired, and Ace had been rewarded for it with a place among Whitebeard’s pantheon, and permission to exercise his command over the fire that welled up from volcanoes and connected the Underworld with the Realms of the living. And then everything to do with him and the God King of the Sky – who had not been God King yet back then – was as heartwarming as it was awe-inspiring. Two rebellious sibling-Gods running rampant through the worlds, until the younger of the two had made his dream come true and ascended to become one of the God Kings to make a home for the strange and cast-out demigods and monsters among the stars. Yet the one who never bowed to that devastating young God was Ace.

Among nobles, it was custom that if a sibling earned a higher rank than you, you bowed to them as if there was no relation. Only in private that mask might fall. That Ace didn’t bow and was not any less loved for it had always made Sabo somewhat wistful. Not that he wanted to have Stelly’s love and respect, but it would have been nice not to be constantly expected to humiliate himself just because his younger brother had married well.

Sabo liked Luffy, but Ace was his favorite. Ace was everything Sabo wished to be himself.

Even though the sacrifice to Ace had likely been the most brutal death of everyone, Sabo couldn’t help but be envious of that person. Sabo had nothing against Whitebeard, but if he had to be sacrificed to any God, he would have preferred the Rebel God of the Three Realms. Even if it did mean his chest would have been opened up and poured full of burning coals, before he was cast into the flames. At least it would have been faster than the poison that was tearing his insides apart.

But no. Noble-born were for the God Kings, and only for the God Kings. That was the rule.

He wondered, if the priests had fed him poison because they believed that offered him the most dignity? He knew the bodies of the noble-born sacrifices were always returned. He wondered if they had chosen the poison because that would leave his appearance mostly undamaged. That would be just the kind of ridiculous nonsense nobles cared about…

Sabo closed his eyes. The room was spinning. His mind was spinning too, skirling out of control, scattering like dandelion tufts on the wind. A feeling of drunken delirium settled over him. If he had been standing he would probably have fallen over.

When he opened his eyes again, the room as full off odd colors. They swirled through the air along with the smoke, dizzying and complex as drops of ink sinking into moving water. The light of the ceremonial fires and the smoke of the incense made the statues seem to come to life. Fire swirled through the air and settled around Ace’s statue, who blinked slowly as if just waking up and shook his head. The smile that had teased around his stone mouth seemed to break, melting into something wider and more pleased. Eyes like the heart of a bonfire roved over the gifts at his feet.

Around the room, more Gods came to life, but Sabo only had eyes for Ace. Color had filled him like wine poured into a crystal cup, and now the young man Sabo had envisioned stood larger than life only a stone-throw away. Fire danced lovingly over his skin and sparks speckled his face and body like freckles. He glowed.

There was a rumbling laugh like an earthquake, and a fingertip larger than his head filled his vision. It’s touch echoed in his bones and down to the stone beneath him, for all that it laid upon his cheek as lightly as a fallen leaf. His head was gently turned to face the God King Whitebeard. The Master of Mountains and Waves looked more amused than insulted over his inattention.

“What has you so interested in my son, little one?” the God King questioned. His voice boomed like a collapsing mountainside, but there was no anger or discontent in his voice. Only something somewhat gently and largely amused. “Usually one such as you does not have it in you to stare at any with such hunger at this point.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see the living fire that was Ace turn in their direction.

Sabo’s lips were numb. He wouldn’t have known what to answer anyway. His body was heavy and unresponsive. There were no chains needed to keep him in place anymore.

He was dying. He knew he was. He just wished he could die seeing Ace instead of the one his parents decided he should be sacrificed to.

To his surprise his wish was granted, and Ace’s fiery countenance filled his vision. Sabo gasped at the heat radiating from him.

“Sabo?”

And oh, Sabo could cry at hearing his name from his God’s lips. As if he had ever been significant enough for his God to take notice of him. Did cry, for al that the few tears spilling down his cheeks felt like a monumental effort, and they dried far too quickly.

“Oh, my faithful, why is it that you lay upon my father’s altar instead of my own?” Ace asked mournfully.

The question hurt far more than the poison or the betrayal of his family. “N-no,” Sabo choked out through unwilling throat and lips. Forced his treacherous voice to work. His words slurred and were nearly ineligible, but he wanted to speak so much… “M’lord, I s-swear… If I’d a choice- any choice at all-“ he coughed, his ribs shaking and cracking from the force.

“One of yours, Ace?” the God King questioned curiously. “A punishment for an infraction, perhaps, to keep him from the one he belongs to?”

Sabo choked out a laugh. He probably shouldn’t laugh at one of the God Kings, or any kind of God for that matter, but he was dying and hallucinating the God statues coming to life, so there was probably little he had to lose. “No,” he answered at Ace’s curious glance. “I’m- it’s punishm’nt, but n-not… not for that. Not f’r a crime.”

“Then what for?”

“I’m noble born,” Sabo mumbled, strength steadily fading away. “Noble born for th’ God King. Wasn’t- wasn’t obed’nt enough, wasn’t good enough, so… so m’ father decided I was to be the off’ring this year.”

Ace nodded, as if he understood. Maybe he did. “So you never wished to give up my claim on you?”

Sabo’s denial was more a sigh than a clear ‘no’, but it was enough.

“Father, can I have him back?” Ace requested, looking up at the God King towering over them. “He’s mine. What mortals deem fitting punishment shouldn’t keep him from me.”

The God King Whitebeard stroked his moustache. Leaned forward so his face filled Sabo’s entire vision, even though he really wasn’t that close to him yet. “Do you wish to be Ace’s instead of mine?” the giant God asked Sabo. It was said curiously, absentmindedly, as if the God King was only talking to himself out loud.

Sabo answered anyway. Because he did want that, and because he wanted to spite his parents, and because the God King was giving him a choice. This time his voice was clearer. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” A thoughtful rumble, like tectonic plates ponderously sliding past each other.

“I give you up on one condition,” the God King declared. “Show me your resolve.”

“H-how?” Sabo managed to force out from between numb lips.

An enormous limb stretched out, and pointed at the massive ornate bronze brazier full of burning wood that sat at the base of Ace’s statue. It was at least three times larger than any other present in the great hall, large enough for two men to lay in spread-eagled, and even then there would be plenty of room to spare. The bonfire it held was just started to sink in a little as the fragrant wood that had filled it was almost entirely reduced to charcoal. Sabo could see that it currently held the animals and the person that had been offered to Ace. Even as he watched, it was as if the flames grew all the more hungry, crawling up over the sacrifices till they were enshrouded with bright ribbons of fire. Charred meat and bone heaved and then collapsed, crumbling away into ash until Sabo could no longer see them.

From his position beside his father’s altar, Ace’s eyes were as bright as the embers at the heart of the fire that burned in the bronze offering brazier, and his hair was darker than the charcoal itself. The smile he send Sabo filled the blond with warmth, as if he was sitting right beside that warm fire instead of lying far away from it.

“You wish to belong to Ace rather than me. Then gift yourself to him, boy.” As if to emphasize the God King’s words, the chains that bound Sabo to the altar sprung open. They unwound from his limbs and slithered off of him as if they were living snakes.

Sabo wanted to cry. It was such a cruel thing to ask. His legs were so numb he had no idea whether they would support him, and the pain in his body was crippling in its intensity. The places where there was no pain were empty voids. He wasn’t sure if he even could use his hands or feet right now.

He wondered if the effort was worth it, for a hallucination.

Blue eyes met burning ones again. Something in them burned so brightly that the feeling of being stuck in an illusion of his own making faded, like mist being torn apart by the rising sun. something in that fiery gaze seemed to tell him that this was no illusion at all. Was, in fact, realer and more important than anything he had ever experienced before in his life.

Sabo took a shaky breath and steeled his resolve.

He did not know what was real. But even if this wasn’t, he was not just going to give up because of that.

Ace smiled as if he had read Sabo’s thoughts. Amused, with something approving mixed in.

To be looked at like that by his God was a feeling headier than the drugged wine. Sabo knew in that instant that disappointing Ace was something he refused to do.

Movement was so painful he cried out. A weak, pitiful sound like a wounded bird, that flitted disgracefully around the holy sanctuary. It felt as if his whole body was frozen, and with every movement he forced from himself he cracked the ice that was his skin and dug splinters deep into his flesh. His joints creaked like old trees in a storm wind as he slowly, slowly, so agonizingly slowly heaved himself up.

Around the room, sounds that he hadn't realized existed fell silent. Eyes were turned to him, each as immortal and otherworldly as the other.

The other Gods of Whitebeard’s pantheon had awakened with Ace. Now they witnessed his ungraceful struggle to do something as simple as stand.

The fabric of his robe stuck wetly to his skin, the red stains already cold. When he pulled himself up from the altar’s surface it came free with a moist sucking sound. The blood was already turning tacky, and felt as unyielding as tar as Sabo rolled away from the place he had laid. The corpse of the lamb slid over the edge and landed with a dull crack somewhere out of sight. Sabo’s control was weak and sluggish, and instead of sitting at the edge of carved marble, he, like the lamb, slipped right off and collapsed in a heap at the foot of the altar.

Standing up was the hardest thing he had ever done. But with his God’s eyes on him he couldn’t do anything less.

The crown of flowers that had been woven into his hair was no longer pretty, instead hanging half-wilted and with sagging limp petals into his face. He pushed it roughly out of the way. Most of it slithered sullenly off his hair and landed with a faint splat. Some, however, kept hanging onto the tangles stubbornly. They might even be braided in, but Sabo certainly hadn’t been conscious enough to know if the priests had done so. As long as the flowers didn’t hang into his eyes he ignored them.

The walk to the brazier felt endless. His own breath seemed to get louder and more desperate with each shaky, unsteady step he took. He lost count of the number of times he almost fell. Some times he did fall, landing on his hands and knees like the pathetic creature he felt like, before he, somehow, managed to climb back to his feet. Each time he felt like that would be the time he would not be able to get up. He was panting like an overworked horse, and it wouldn’t surprise him if there was foam around his mouth. He certainly had enough trouble breathing for it to be there. It was as if his throat was constantly getting clogged, leaving each breath a reedy, wet wheeze.

Putting one foot in front of the other never had been so difficult.

Even though at one point he had started to doubt he was even moving, after an eternity Sabo did arrive at the brazier. Sabo stared blankly at the bronze rim. The metal wasn’t quite hot enough to glow, but even from the few meters away it radiated heat like a stove.

Sabo had no idea how he was supposed to get in. The brazier wasn’t that tall. In fact, it would probably barely come halfway up his thighs if he were to stand next to it. In his current state though, it might as well have been the height of three men. Not to mention that the no-doubt searing hot metal would make climbing in near impossible even for someone who wasn’t poisoned.

Sabo looked around, numb to the core. He had the feeling that he was only minutes away from collapsing entirely, never to get up again. He could feel himself sway, as if he was standing on the deck of a ship in a roiling storm.

There. The dais on which Ace’s altar was placed was right at the edge of the rim, making it easy for any priest to cast the offerings into the fire after the death blow had been dealt. And there were steps leading up.

He could manage steps. He hoped.

Sabo looked into the flames. To die by poison or by fire, such was the question he had left. It was all he had left.

He set his jaw, and climbed the steps of the raised dais. The steps weren’t high, but each felt as tall as a mountain as he heaved himself up. He very nearly had to crawl up the last few.

And then, he was at the top of the dais. Only a mere two meters away from the edge at most. Only the barest of distance between him and where the fire burned hot and high.

Staring into the heart of the blaze, his own beat unbearably loud. As if his heart wanted to fit all the spare heartbeats of the life he would never get to live into these last moments. The heat was like a burning ache upon his frozen skin. Like a rash. Like sunburn. It seeped into him as cruelly as the poison had, digging into the cracks in the ice that coated his limbs and thawing his frozen bones, making it all the easier for the icy needles to stab in. Shattering him, like ice broken open by the touch of boiling water.

Sabo realized that this would be a pyrrhic victory in the most literal sense, to climb to his own pyre because he refused to die the way his father wished of him.

Ace hadn’t moved. Sabo turned to face him and the God King. This felt like the kind of thing he should look his God in the eye for. Ace’s eyes were bright as stars, and there was a pleased edge to the curl of his lips. Sabo felt the edge of the dais beneath his heel and the wall of heat against his back. With one last deep breath into his aching lungs he let himself fall backwards into the heart of the blaze.

A cloud of sparks flew up as if in celebration, so high it touched the ceiling.

~X~

It was like plunging into water, if water was pure heat and light. Like plunging into lava, only lighter. Liquid flame surrounded him.

The force of his fall pushed his body deep into the glowing coals. The pain wasn’t instant, like he expected. It had to build. It took many long seconds for the heat to seep past the pain of the poison, but when it finally did it was like a dam breaking.

Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, and Sabo screamed with them. He couldn’t have stopped the vocalization of his suffering with all the will of the world.

Without his knowing, his scream echoed through the sanctuary like a winged beast, slamming against the walls and escaping through the high windows. If it had had claws it would have left deep, furrowed marks all over the marble and in every ear it passed. In its wake it made the priests going through the rites outside freeze and tremble, leaving them shaking in trepidation and doubt. Every person in the city felt a chill run down their spines, as it invisibly winged through the air and spread. In his lustrous home, Sabo’s father let a goblet smash upon the ground and did not even scream at the servants for it. His eyes were drawn as if pulled by chains to the place where Sabo was burning, and terror took the place of any anger he might have had.

Within the hallowed hall of the Gods, Sabo writhed in flames.

More tears spilled upon his cheeks, but the heat was so intense that they evaporated immediately, leaving behind only the salt of his body. Each agonized twist bared a new patch of skin for the flames to lick at. The gauzy fabric went up quickly. The flowers were destroyed almost as easily, crisping and withering in the fire. If he had been able to do so he would have laid still, maintaining some level of dignity in his death, but the pain was far too great for that. Yet the poison had weakened his movements. His involuntary thrashing could be barely called that.

“Sabo, look at me.”

With tremendous will Sabo obeyed the voice of his God. The God he chose.

Ace was above him. Boxing him in with hands and knees. He had abandoned the illusion of humanity and was now a being of pure flame, as bright as the fire around him and brighter still. His skin a white-hot glow, eyes like suns and painful to look at. His hair danced around his face in the shape of spun flames, thin dancing filaments of brightness. He was still larger than any mortal man Sabo had ever seen or heard of. He reached out a hand to touch Sabo’s cheek.

Ace brought no relief, his touch as terrible as that of the other flames or more. Sabo leaned into it anyway, keening weakly.

Ace's hands on him were warm, so incredibly warm. How he could still feel like this when he was burning alive he didn’t know, but feel he did. And he felt that Ace wasn’t being just kind now. There was greed in his touch, and possessiveness, and a gentleness that was wholly strange and would have frightened him if he had been able to muster enough focus. Sabo had always felt that some of the myths told about the Gods were a bit bizarre, but feeling Ace so near, feeling that fiery presence around him, he knew they weren’t. They were ridiculous, because how could anyone stand being this close to a God if it felt like this?

“Ah, I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?” Ace looked genuinely regretful. “Shh, Sabo, my dear believer, my dear worshipper, relax. You pledged yourself to me when you were a child, and you never wavered. Stay strong now.”

“And what is it,” Sabo choked out around the ash of his own skin, “that I need to be strong for?”

Ace smiled, gentle and kind and terrifyingly at odds with his words. “Oh, Sabo. My faithful, have you not guessed it yet? It is for your burning, of course.” At Sabo’s hitching breath he crooned. “There’s no need to be afraid. You were sacrificed to us. To me. And with you having pledged your heart and soul to me already, I can finally do what I wish.”

“And what do you wish,” Sabo asked. It was very nearly begging.

“To make you mine,” Ace answered. “More mine than you already are.”

Sabo shook. Almost plaintively, he asked, “Will it hurt long?”

Ace shrugged. Sparks fell from his shoulders as if the movement has shaken off an avalanche of fire. They landed around them like fiery rain. “Long enough. Some part of it will still hurt. Once the mortal flesh truly perishes you will feel it. I understand it feels like being slowly pulled loose.”

It was far worse than that, Sabo realized with dread as Ace ran a hand over his chest, and his skin sizzled and scorched. Far worse than even the worst pins and needles Sabo had ever had, back when he had fallen asleep sitting on one of his legs that one time, which had resulted in it feeling as if it was about to fall off in the morning. These needles were red hot, and took their time prying every single nerve he had loose.

Almost literally so, it seemed, from the silvery traces appearing in the blackened cracks of his burned skin. A movement of Ace shifted his leg, and with it, something in the weight shifted. A look had bile rising in his throat. To see how far along he was already – it woke something primal and desperate in him.

He clung to Ace as well as he could with his arms falling apart on him, clung even as he was consumed.

~X~

Ace watched his faithful writhe in his flames with awe and pride. For a human to go that far… The truest path of sacrifice to reach Ace was cruel. Crueler than most. It was to invite agony. And yet, Sabo had made his choice regardless.

He had known, from Sabo’s very first visit to one of his temples, that this human was special. From that very first offering that was free of expectations, and all that followed since, each and every one without ever having a demand or request attached. All that those offerings had carried was a deep sense of wistfulness. And there had been plenty over the years, matching those of his most loyal followers in quality, if not in numbers. From his observations of the mortal, his father’s disapproval had weighted heavily on Sabo, and had kept him from expressing his devotion fully before.

And ah, what devotion it was. Not bold and boisterously declared, like so many who offered to him but who were in truth looking for the recognition of their fellow man instead, or who sought Ace’s favor for their own gain. Sabo’s devotion was quiet, hidden, and carefully amassed, like a hoarder with gold, or a noble with truly excellent wines, sipped from only when the time was right. Yet is was pure like spring rain, like lightning in the sky, like a perfect peridot formed in the heart of the earth’s fiery blood. Each gift was thoughtful and wholeheartedly offered, and filled with an instinctive understanding not even Ace’s priests could match. It spoke of a dedicated soul who paid attention, one who fit alongside Ace like a hand into hand, like how the coast fit the sea, or a keystone in an arch. One who was meant for him, not just by choice but by the workings of the world itself.

Genuine devotion was so rare these days. Especially for Ace. There weren’t many who could see past his role in the pantheon as the Deity of Fire, and all the calamity that power brought in his wake, to see at the heart of who he was and love him for it.

And Sabo did love him. His believer loved him as much as it was possible to love one you had never met to your knowing. Respected him with almost child-like awe, when even Ace’s own priests regarded him with wariness beneath their reverence, letting his reputation as wild and unpredictable stand in the way of opening their hearts fully.

Sabo’s heart was bare before him. The heart of his soul, and soon the heart of his body as well, and Ace would kiss it gladly when it was, rejoicing in claiming this believer for his own entirely and irrevocably. From his very first visit to one of Ace’s temples, Sabo never seemed greedy, nor did he delight in the violence that was inherent to Ace’s nature. Just a boy, with a plight not entirely unlike Ace’s own, unhappy as he was in the home he had been born in.

Ace was Defiance and Rebellion, Loyalty and Passion, and all of those demanded freedom, demanded that he did not get tied to just one of the Realms. He was the one who defied all rules to blaze his will across the world. Not even those he loved could command him to halt if Ace chose not to listen. Freedom itself wasn’t one of his aspects – that belonged to Luffy – but it was a core component of most of what he stood for.

Sabo did not have that kind of power. Only what little his mortal body had granted him, and what his mind was able to tease from the world. But he yearned all the same.

It wasn’t normal, for a God to feel such kinship for one of his faithful, and even more so when said believer was already offered. But defiance of expectations and breaking free of common patterns was part of who he was. And he felt that Sabo suited him well.

He trailed fingers over his believer’s cheek and watched flesh crumble into ash, baring the bone beneath. Calmly, leisurely. Sabo would not burn as quickly as most of those gifted to him. Ace wanted to savor this offering.

He was the Fire and he chose what burned. He knew that by taking his time he was drawing out the pain of death, but he wasn’t a gentle God, for all that he liked to pretend for now. For that there was too much violence inherent to his nature. But he could care and nurture, even as he inflicted hurt. Could be tender in his destruction. And Sabo’s was the most perfect of devotees. He did not fight or beg for Ace to hasten his death. Instead he settled among embers with a sigh and nothing in his heart but contentment with his choice and the pain it brought. There was no hatred of Ace souring him.

Ace hummed in pleasure. Leaned forward to press burning lips to mortal ones. They turned to powder at his touch. With a soft, broken sound Sabo offered his mouth to his exploration.

Tongue and palette went just as easily. Ace hungrily lapped up the energy that came from the burning of one of his offerings.

His hands touched everywhere, followed by his mouth. Lips trailed over Sabo’s vulnerable throat, ending the sounds of his believer’s suffering for mortal ears. Shoulders followed, and arms. Each of the already blackened, motionless fingers. The gaps between fragile ribs were filled with flame with each flick of his tongue, before those too crumbled and caved. The tenderest bits, lungs and heart, Ace paid special attention to. Sabo shook as Ace’s breath burned the air from his lungs when he blew on them. His heart shuddered as Ace pressed openmouthed kisses against the soft organ, before it gently fell apart in loose ashes. Legs. Hips. The smooth stomach, that lacked the pudge and softness that was so common among nobles. Lacked the fat that would have been such easy fuel for his flames. But muscle drifted apart just as easily.

It rather felt like brushing off mortal dust to bare the essence of his worshipper’s being. Blowing away the dust of ages with a single breath, so that each inhale was filled only with his offering. It was like polishing off tarnished treasure to lay bare the brightness beneath.

Soft organs went with a sizzling hiss and the spine melted away as he pressed gentle kisses to each vertebrae. Last was the skull. Sabo’s face was still mostly intact. His worshipper closed his eyes in a last fluttering of singed lashes as Ace brought him close. Ace cradled his head lovingly and pressed his mouth to Sabo’s forehead. Hair and bone and soft tissues crumbled as easy as a complicated puzzle falling apart.

What was left of his believer after his body was burned away was translucent as glass, fragile and easily fractured and waiting to be filled, to have something poured into it and give it solidity. Ace tenderly stroked the spectral skin, following the curve of ghostly bones with the gentlest of caresses.

Sabo’s soul was exquisite.

Ace knew many kinds of glass. It came with the territory of being the Deity of Fire. Volcanic glass was stubborn and often sullen, the way so many of his offerings were. Not bad, but they were only his in the way they had been offered. They would melt and shape on his command, but they would maintain their sullen colors and gritty imperfections unless he really worked at them, always full of impurities that were stubborn and resistant and really not worth the effort to burn off. Some of his offerings were purer, dark and gleaming like obsidian, but far too often colored in ways he didn’t like. They very rarely truly wished to belong to him, regardless of what they claimed in life, and resisted chance. They served better than the previous kind, but always with some distaste to them for their deaths, reflecting the misgivings aimed at his priests unto Ace himself.

Sabo wasn’t that. Sabo was a gift freely given, a sacrifice that had made itself. He was the purest of glass, expensive and clear and so, so rare. He was somewhat colored by his spite, but Ace liked that shade on his offerings. That defiance appealed to Ace almost as much as the knowledge that this offer was the truest of gifts. Sabo did not expect any payment, any reward for this act. None beyond the surety that even on the brink of death he would make his own choice who he dedicated his death to.

Ace understood that spite, that defiance of those who tried to dictate your life. It certainly wasn’t an accident that he had left his father’s Realm to dwell among Earth and Sky. Enjoying the freedom his father had given up himself when he took the Underworld Throne. His father couldn’t walk nearly as freely. He needed permission every time he walked into an other’s Realm.

(Ace used to need that too, but by now he had blanket permission from all three God Kings, and that was practically the same as being free entirely).

(His mother and his younger brother were the only other Deities who were that free. Luffy, because no one expected the deity of Freedom, Sky, and Dreams to limit himself to just a single Realm, and Roger and Whitebeard liked him well enough despite his penchant for causing havoc wherever he went. Their mother because no one wanted a Realm with no Seasons. And Rouge was definitely the kind to withhold Seasons if anyone tried to deny her access to their Realms. Then again, their mother was plenty liked as well, so it wasn’t as if the God Kings were likely to have denied her even without the threats.)

Sabo was sweet and lovely and had a kind of fire to him Ace was very happy to claim for his own. Ace cradled him tenderly to his chest.

The mortal was still crying softly. Ace didn’t mind. It was painful, what he had asked of Sabo. What he had taken when he accepted what Sabo offered. There was loss there, and Ace didn’t mind acknowledging that. And it suited his purposes, to hold his offering close.

A human body was both a barrier and a cage, that offered some measure of protection against godly influences. Once that was stripped away, mortals were so very vulnerable. Ace had to be careful not to accidentally burn up Sabo’s soul as well. With a lesser gift he might not care, but Sabo was far too lovely to let that happen.

“My Sabo,” he crooned. “My own, look at me.”

His believer looked up at him with eyes shining slick and moist as pearls. He was so frail like this. Like the first spark among the tinder, so easily snuffed out. Like the thinnest edge of obsidian, so easily cracked and shattered by an incautious touch.

“You did so well, my own. So well. But we are not yet finished.”

Sabo shuddered and heard the unspoken words. Nodded, and wiped the tears he could no longer cry from his face. As always, it startled mortals to be able to weep but no longer have wetness stain their cheeks. Sabo stared at his hand in startlement, first for the lack of tears and then for the transparency of his body. His skin and flesh were like glass, reflecting the manifestations of Ace’s power in golden and orange hues. The light of Ace’s flames glittered over ghostly bones and fractured into rainbow shine on organs, brightening the branching strands of veins in a web of dazzling filigree, weaving through everything as if it was the net that tied muscles to the skeleton’s sturdy frame.

All was laid bare for the eyes of a God. Indulgent, Ace left his believer a few moments to see what the Gods always saw in souls. Outside of his fire it wouldn’t be nearly so clear. But part of fire was light, and light revealed. Light lifted the veil of blindness, though it could blind all over again if there was too much. But this light, the light of his sacred flame, was perfect for seeing.

His own translucence fascinated Sabo. Already, his upset seemed to be replaced with wonder.

Good. Wonder was not Ace’s to claim, but it was certainly an aspect of him. What else was defiance, but knowing that things could be different and daring to reach for it? And that knowing required curiosity. Curiosity and wonder, to see not only the way things were, but also how they might be.

Sabo had both the wonder and the drive. This pleased Ace. It pleased him greatly.

But there were other things to be done.

“Come, my own, enough of that,” he said. “It is time to continue. Your sacrifice is not yet complete.”

Sabo shivered, like a lamb lost in winter snows, like a candle flame in a draft that might snuff it out. His voice was hoarse from smoke and ash, for all that he no longer had a physical throat to be affected. “It’s not?”

It was almost a whine, but it was not meant. It was not protest, not truly. It almost made Ace laugh, how feeble and useless it was. But he supposed there was no harm in allowing his believer his little comforts.

“No.” For other sacrifices it would have been. Most were just gifts of power, a tithe with which mortals hoped to buy their lives. A way to remind mortals that they only lived by his grace, and should be grateful for the God to grant them warm hearths and fires to cook their food on, and keep the volcanoes and forest fires at bay. For most, Ace would have burned up both body and soul, and send what was left on to his father’s Realm. Most offerings were only to pacify the predator whose territory they lived in, to burn up as fuel to feed his fire, a feast for his satisfaction. They were not meant to last.

Sabo though. Sabo was different. Sabo he would make last. Sabo was too precious not to keep.

Sabo closed his eyes and steeled himself. His will was like starlight within him.

This pleased Ace too. Sabo was already proving to be good at pleasing him. So good. Such a perfect sacrifice.

“Kneel for me, my own. Kneel for me. You are so good, my own, now be good for a while longer.”

Sabo was a gift willingly given, and offering that had made itself. His faithful did as he bid with only the hesitation that came from reluctance to accept pain. Ace’s smile widened.

~X~

Sabo would not deny that he was scared. Terrified. Walking to the fire had been the hardest thing he had ever done, and casting himself into the flames harder still. To think that even more might be needed…

It scared him. It scared him down to his bones, that had crumbled into ashes. He didn’t want to invite more pain-

But he had already come this far. And this was Ace. He had chosen to give himself to the fire, to this Deity. The way he had never chosen to give himself to his father. He had chosen this himself, for himself.

He’d had faith. He had chosen to have faith. And in his heart he still did, despite everything. He had known, both beforehand and during his walk to what would be his pyre, that there was no easy way. What use was second-guessing?

What use was sacrifice, without the willingness to suffer for your wants?

He had chosen this himself.

Sabo obeyed, and knelt at Ace’s feet. And waited for his God’s edict.

Ace chuckled, the sound almost as warm as the flames around him. “On both your knees, my own. And come closer. Come here, my Sabo.” He held out a hand and beckoned.

Sabo refused to falter and laid his hand in Ace’s. It wasn’t as much of a reach it was before. Ace had chosen to adjust his height somewhere between one flicker of flame and the next. Still nowhere near small, but closer to human. Closer to Sabo’s own size. Standing up, Sabo might even be able to look him in the eye without having to tilt his head.

Somehow, Ace being smaller didn’t change the weight of his presence. Instead it changed the air between them, charged it with something unnamed. Ace had held him close to his chest after he burned, fitting his soul in the cradle of his arms like a mother a frightened child, yet having his hand held in his God’s grasp suddenly felt more intimate.

His God gently guided him close, making him shuffle on his knees through the burning embers. Flames licked at Sabo’s spine, but they didn’t hurt anymore. Instead they felt like teasing caresses, little whispers of sensation. He curled upwards to follow Ace’s hands, let his God coax him to kneel before him the way he wanted from him. The height Ace had chosen for himself was less than ideal, and Sabo leaned the side of his head against Ace’s hip, and very carefully did not look at what laid so close to his face.

A hand curved underneath his chin and made him look up. Ace was smirking at him, in a fond way Sabo had seen people do when they thought a child was being silly. “My own, you know what I want from you.”

Sabo’s hands were tight upon Ace’s thighs, clenching into fists in an attempt to ground himself. He had known. He had known. But he wished his God didn’t ask this of him.

Still, he let Ace guide him even closer. Until he knelt between his God’s feet. The fire of Ace’s presence enveloped him fully. The contact of skin to godly skin was inescapable. It felt like burning. Like branding.

With a soft touch to the corner of his mouth Sabo gave in and let his mouth drop open. It shamed him, how easily he gave in when before he had always staunchly refused to take such a position, no matter how high or powerful the noble asking for it was.

“Oh my own, as if any noble could ever compare to me. You were never theirs, but you are mine. That you refused to obey them, yet willingly yield to my will makes you all the more perfect.”

With that, Ace slid into his mouth. He was large, and heavy on his tongue. Sabo was glad Ace was no longer towering over him as he had done before. Even this almost-human size was nearly too much. The taste he reluctantly sampled was nothing like he expected. No hint of unwashed skin or the musk of old sweat or even the dusty tones of marble like he half expected ever since he saw statues come to life. Instead his God tasted of warm hearths and woodsmoke with an undertone of hot metal, and the faintest traces of ash and possibly something like brimstone. It was a clean taste, and an utterly inhuman one. The heat that radiated from Ace’s skin was far more apparent. Unbidden, some of the tension unwound from his shoulders.

Fingers like brands threaded through his hair, but thankfully only rested there. Sabo was grateful Ace didn’t try go deeper. Instead his God just looked pleased as Sabo hesitantly started to work his tongue against the burning heat that rested upon it.

“That’s right. That’s good, my own, my Sabo. You do need to drink from me for what I want for you.”

Sabo wished he could ask what Ace wanted, but his mouth was full. And… maybe he could guess, just a little. He didn’t really want to think about what he was drinking, what he was taking into himself with his hesitant suckling, but he could feel drops of heat sliding over his tongue and down his throat to gather into a pool of fire in his belly. The heat settled there, without diminishing, as if the coals he was kneeling in were burning in his stomach too. But burning without pain. He could bear the heat, even if it was maddening.

A startled noise escaped him when Ace pushed just a bit deeper. He didn’t gag, not exactly, but he did glare up.

Ace smiled benevolently down at him. “Relax your throat,” he said. Ordered.

Sabo shuddered and tried to follow Ace’s command. Ace moved again. It was as if his God knew just which spot to hit and Sabo tried to jerk back in surprise, but Ace’s hands in his hair had no give to them. Sabo groaned brokenly as his God slipped all the way down his throat.

“Yes, that’s good, that’s so good, my Sabo-“

Sabo gasped when Ace pulled back enough for him to take a breath. Ace chuckled. “Again, my own,” he said, kind yet with a unyielding demand behind it. Sabo let him slide in again. Let him slide all the way into his throat, even though every thrust into him, every brush of his nose against Ace’s pelvis shook him to the core. It burned with shame and humiliation and something hot and molten that shivered through his spine and made his toes curl. The burn in his stomach sank lower. Deeper into the core of himself.

He could almost hate how much Ace affected him.

A shallow, grinding thrust that pressed his open mouth against Ace’s pelvis. Two. Sabo very nearly sobbed as liquid heat spilled down like a dam had broken, pouring into him seemingly without end. And still Ace didn’t let him move-

He gasped when he was finally allowed to pull his head back. A trail of wetness followed Ace out. He coughed. He felt like a jar that had been filled past overflowing. What spilled past his lips and down his front was bright as molten metal. It felt like burning all over again. All blinding heat and brightness, consuming flesh and bone. Only the agony was absent.

Yet his new spectral flesh did not crumble, did not scatter into ash. Instead it was like an infection. The liquid heat radiating from his stomach and lungs through his veins, crawling through his body like some strange corrupting poison. Or maybe, he thought as he watched light fill the complex network of ghostly veins with its glow, a purifying flame might be a better comparison.

Sabo did not have long to watch fire invade his body, because Ace was still in front of him. And he was not yet done.

Sabo’s breath whooshed out of him as he landed on his back in the embers. He was sure he breathed in cinders and sparks, but it did not seem to affect him beyond a faint itch in his throat. Ace draped himself over him, stretching out on top of him. Their noses very nearly touched. Sabo cried out when he came in full contact with Ace’s body. It was like pressing yourself against living magma, like embracing the sun itself. It burned through him worse than the flames of his pyre or the heat that sat in his stomach and licked up into his throat. Despite everything, he instinctively struggled to escape the intensity of those sensations.

Ace laughed softly, and effortlessly held him in place. It was as if the embers they rested in helped him, the bright orange glow pulling him into place like lodestone did to iron filings. Flames lapped at his limbs, wrapped around them almost like ribbons and held him down. Not tightly, but they bound him regardless.

Ace kissed him then. Sabo flinched at the memory of the last time his God’s lips had touched his. He could see that Ace saw, but the God just smiled and pressed forward.

This time, his lips were still overly warm, but now Sabo’s own didn’t just crumble in a flash of searing pain. There was no pain, instead only the overwhelming heat and presence of his God.

Ace kissed his face. His nose and lips. The lids of his eyes and his forehead. Each gentle as a lover, and it made Sabo want to weep. “Calm down, my own, calm down. I know it is much. But you are doing so well, my Sabo, you are so perfect. We are so close now, my own. Calm down, it’s only a little further-“

Sabo’s breath was hitching. The kind of hitch that Sabo knew precluded a disgraceful loss of control. He was shaking like a reed in a storm. He needed- He wanted- He needed-

“I know, my own, shh, I know. This is hard. This is difficult. I know I’m asking much. But hold out a little longer, my Sabo, we’re nearly there.”

Ace held him, gently, more gently than Sabo would ever have expected, more than he ever deserved. Who was he, that Ace was mindful of him? What could he ever be, to make him deserving? He did not know, but he was grateful for this mercy. For a mercy it was, to be allowed a moment to try to gather himself, even when his God’s presence pressed on him like a mountain bearing down.

Sabo relaxed as well as he could, and let himself settle among the cinders and charcoal. Let himself be trapped beneath his God, and submitted to his will. Like a baby bird, tremulous and weak, waiting to be devoured by a fox.

Even so, he was still shaking when lips pressed against his own, and in a mirror of before, Sabo opened his mouth. Fiery essence still clung to his tongue and the inside of his throat, but that did not deter Ace in the least. He just licked, gently as a dancing flame, into Sabo’s mouth. Explored him, from his tongue to his teeth to his palate. This time, he did not sear Sabo’s self into ashes. Maybe there was nothing left to sear. Sabo’s body had already burned, was nothing but cinders beneath them.

It should be stranger than it was, lying in his own ashes as his God held him down and kissed him deeply. Somehow, all that Sabo felt was small and vulnerable, and the desire that Ace’s actions ignited in him.

He was still human. And Ace was a God, showering him with his attentions. Who could possibly stay unmoved by that?

“Ah!”

A gasp. A cry. Sabo couldn’t have possibly held it in. His God, moving against him, chest to chest and hands on his hips and in his hair, and the rolling pressure between his legs- It was enough to drive anyone crazy. Every touch was one that was impossible to ignore, and Ace was touching him everywhere.

This time, he shuddered and cried in his God’s arms for an entirely different reason.

“Yes, my own, that’s good. Let yourself feel, let yourself be, and submit to me-“

Ace guided his legs. Settled himself between his thighs. Nibbled on his neck as he touched down there, and Sabo knew, he knew what his God wanted…

It was still a shock, when his God slid into him. Like being punched in the gut, driving all air from your lungs. Ace was heat and fire and Sabo wasn’t, it was too much-

“Mine,” Ace growled into his ear, thrusting up harshly. Sabo whole body jolted with the force of the motion. He couldn’t have held back his scream even if his God had commanded it. Ace took advantage of his open mouth drank the sound down hungrily.

Ace sunk into him, over and over. Deeply. Ravenously. His mouth pressed hard on Sabo’s, lips sealing them together as Ace breathed into him, pushing his breath into Sabo’s lungs, as if trying to kindle a spark. Fire crawled over Sabo’s skin.

“So good, my own. My Sabo.” Ace’s words caressed his ears. That praise, right here, right now, as his body shook with the force of his God’s movements- it was the last straw. It made him weep all over again. Because he wanted, but it was so hard, so hard to keep himself together in this whirling storm of flame.

Sabo felt himself consumed. Consumed by Ace as he had been by the fire, by the aching pressure inside him that was so very overwhelming. He had crested once already under the formidable presence that was Ace, and his God didn’t seem to be satiated soon. Ace just took and took and took, leaving him hollowed out and gouged empty, carving a shape into him that fit his God. Like the hollow cone of a volcano after it’s erupted, the violence leaving nothing to fill it.

Only Ace was not leaving him empty. Left him not empty at all, filling him with every thrust and then filling him some more. A space forced inside him for his God to pack in whatever cold, bereft ashes he was willing to give after. And it didn’t matter how Sabo screamed from the sheer effort of feeling, of trying to contain all the feelings and sensations Ace so mercilessly inflicted upon him. Ace just piled on more. Far more than Sabo felt he could take, and he wondered if it was possible for a dead man to die a second time. He refused to utter any form of protest though. Would not be able to even if he wanted. He chose this, and now that they had come this far his God wouldn’t stop. Sabo could feel that in every touch, hear it in every murmured word of encouragement. They were in freefall now, a blaze burning out of control and all that was left was endure the firestorm until it passed.

Veins of fire crawled over his chest, filling the gap between translucent ribs. Every touch of Ace rubbed fire into his soul. He was encased in living flame till his veins were full with nothing but white-hot liquid, till his lungs and limbs were full of fire, and every exhale from both himself and his God felt like a furnace opening up, the heat of their breaths feeding into each other till it filled the space between them. Like the breath of dragons, or some other great fire beasts.

He was drowned in pleasure so absolute it could rival the agony of burning in intensity.

In the grip of his God’s desires Sabo crested a second time. His hands burst into flame before his eyes. His entire body did, and Ace’s tongue tangled with the flames as he lovingly laved at Sabo’s fire-bright skin. By then he had no idea whether the pleas that fell from his lips were for his God to stop or to for him to never let up his onslaught at all. Sabo would never learn the answer either, for his mind refused to function.

In the end, what brought them to a halt was Ace’s completion, and the subsequent spilling of pure, Godly fire into Sabo’s soul, as if he was nothing but a vessel that Ace wanted to make overflow. He wondered distantly if this was how a mountain felt, when the magma cracked open its core all the way to its outmost walls, and left the deep fissures and torn caverns filled with nothing but pure, molten heat. If it felt like this, as if he was broken into pieces and then lovingly glued together again with something that was viscous and thick and would cool into solid stone, the stuff the bones of the earth were made of, strong and eternal and yet in this moment fluid and soft and changeable.

Ace stroked his face. Kissed him once more, without ever leaving Sabo’s body. The fierceness was draining now, and all that was left was the slow, languid flow of lava, and the calm, steady swaying of a candle in still air. Smoke curled towards the ceiling. The flames that were the bed in which Sabo had been consumed, had been consummated, were quieter now.

Sabo gazed at his limbs. They were limned in light, glowing almost as bright as Ace’s. Flames were caressing him lovingly.

It was so very strange to see. Hours ago – was it truly mere hours? – there was only ordinary skin. Supple, some barely visible blond hair, faint wrinkles around the joints, and only the barest hint of a tan. Now his hands looked like they were crafted from liquid gold. He half expected them to drip.

Ace followed his tiredly fascinated stare and hummed, an inhuman sound like fire singing as hot gases escaped from freshly cut branches. It was entirely pleased, and decadently so. Full of sensual enjoyment.

Sabo wished he could feel like that. But mostly he just felt wrung out, tired and sated, as now there was nothing of him left but ashes and cinders, like a doused fire. Like embers quietly smoldering in a hearth as the fire was settled for the night. His entire being still sang like a struck bell, the echoes not even close to dying away. Like a lava stream that was no longer flowing, lying heavy and black and burned out, but whose heat would linger for months in its center, not even quenched with days of rain pouring down to drain away the heat. His entire body still tingled, and phantom sensations pulsed from everywhere. Even some strange dragging sensation, as if his energy flowed straight out of him and into the flames.

He felt like a spiderweb of cracks, like a broken vase that had been glued together with gold. An imperfect vessel that leaked with the heat Ace had filled him with.

“Is it over now?” he asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Ace kissed him one last time, and then pushed himself up just a little so he could look Sabo in the eye. “The worst is over now,” he said reassuringly. “You have done so very well, my own.”

Sabo’s reply was cut off as Ace sat up and took him with him. Sabo keened a choked-off cry as the motion pushed his legs further apart and settled Ace even deeper inside him. He clutched at Ace’s shoulders. His God had the gall to laugh at him. Sabo would have slapped him if he hadn’t been clinging desperately to his God in a frantic grip for stability.

Suddenly, there was a rousing cheer, and Sabo startled so bad he nearly pulled himself loose from his God.

Around them, at the edges of the ceremonial fire, the other Gods stood. Whitebeard's entire pantheon, and several who did not belong to it. They looked as if they had been standing there for a while. As if what Ace had done with Sabo was a show for them to watch.

Sabo writhed in white-hot shame on Ace’s lap. His God didn’t let up at all, as if being watched while he was seated inside him was nothing. Even though he was- they had- to know this display of intimacy had been watched…

Ace just held him, keeping him in place with arms wrapped around his waist and hips. He crooned softly at him. “Shh, calm down my own, it’s alright, you’re safe. You’re so beautiful, just calm down and relax for me-“

Sabo tried to obey, he really did, but there was too much self-consciousness now. Too much shame and humiliation.

Ace made soothing noises, pulling him close so his front was hidden against Ace’s, his face nestled in his God’s neck and hidden by his hair. A beckoning gesture has flames form into cloth and drape around them.

Sabo relaxed marginally. It was still shameful, to be seated in his God’s lap like this, and part of him was furious with mortification for being put into this position, but with the covering up of their worst nakedness he could almost bear it now. Like this, he could almost pretend he was hidden entirely. He really did not want to look and know who he had been seen by.

“Do not be so upset,” Ace soothed. “You did nothing shameful. Your sacrifice to me was an act of unparalleled devotion, the likes of which have never been seen before. You were gorgeous, my own, and all envy me for having one as perfect as you.”

“You have more than proven yourself to me, child,” came the deep, ground-shaking rumble of Whitebeard from beyond the ring of fire.

Involuntarily, Sabo glanced over his shoulder at the giant God King.

Whitebeard’s face was a painting of benevolence and hearty approval. “I welcome you into my pantheon, Sabo.”

“Oh, me too, me too!” You’re an interesting guy, Sabo! I’m glad Ace found someone like you!” At the edge of Ace’s fire, a lithe figure danced and waved. Compared to Whitebeard, he was small and frail like a child, but a second glance estimated him around Sabo’s own height. Black-flyaway hair framing a youthful visage and large brown eyes brimming with excitement and curiosity. Where Whitebeard was majesty made flesh, this one moved as if gravity itself had no hold on him, whimsical and wild.

With a sharp inhale Sabo recognized the God King of the Skies. The young God King looked a second away from diving into the flames. Sabo instinctively drew the fiery cloth closer around him. Luffy’s grin was wide and infectious, but seeing him felt rather like the sky itself was grinning down on you.

There was a booming laughter, like a long row of giant stone doors slamming closed. A finality that was surprisingly friendly.

A third figure stepped forward from beside Whitebeard. This one was between the two God Kings in height; neither human-small, nor giant-large. Closer to human, but still toweringly tall. With hair black as the darkness that resides in the deepest mines and a large curling moustache, the God King of the Underworld approached the nest of flames he and Ace rested in.

A tall woman was at the God King’s side, clad in summer-riches, for this was, Sabo realized with a shock, Ace’s mother, the Lady of Seasons. Ace’s parents stood the edge of the fire. Both their faces were kind and laughing.

More than ever, Sabo wanted to curl up and become one with the ashes beneath him.

“Well, son? Show us the new member of our family! You are not quite finished, you know! To finalize the ascendance you need to bring him before us! So come and let us welcome him!”

Sabo’s breath halted in his throat. His eyes snapped to Ace, who was still giving the God Kings a vague look of annoyance.

“What does that mean?” he breathed. “Ace, what does your father mean? Ascendance?” Panic rose hot and sharp in his chest. “What does that mean, Ace?”

He spoke improperly, he knew he did, but this… he didn’t understand. But his whole body glowed like fire, like Ace, and a terribly suspicion was taking root.

Ace looked at him with something like pity and very much like bashfulness.

“You are my sacrifice. I just decided to keep you,” he replied.

Sabo blinked, and narrowed his eyes. “Keep me? Keep me how? You can’t tell me this is how it usually goes with sacrifices.”

Was it just him or had the glowing light of Ace’s cheeks taken a decidedly pinkish hue?

“Oh, certainly not, boy!” the God King Roger laughed. Each cheerful word was like a tomb collapsing. “Most are consumed and then sent to me! But you are a curious one, because my son decided he wished a different fate for you!”

The Lady Rouge smiled, and her smile was warm like summer sunlight and the taste of fresh bread. Somewhat teasingly she said to Ace, “If you had wished for a sibling, all you had to do was ask!”

Sabo stared at them and then back at Ace. And yes, that was definitely a blush on Ace’s divine visage. “You… are making me like you?” he asked haltingly.

Ace smiled at him and the blush faded. Instead he looked purely happy. “Yes. You were my sacrifice, and mine to do with as I wished. I wished for you to be my equal.”

“I… You can do that?”

Ace nodded happily, and nuzzled at Sabo’s shoulder. His hands greedily wandered Sabo’s back and waist. Sabo wanted to blush himself at the action, reminded once again of their intimate positioning.

From the laughter around him, he definitely did.

“With help and the approval of the God Kings, yes,” Ace told him with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“But… equal?” Sabo glanced at his fingers, which were exactly like Ace’s. Glowed like fire. “Won’t that split your power?” Sabo asked, breathless with the enormity of what Ace was telling him. A creeping feeling of shame rose from his gut, a thousand times more intense than before. He was just a random believer. Should Ace even be doing that?

Ace shook his head, looking very pleased with himself. “Usually, yes. For others it would. But I’m not like water or earth. Those are…” he visibly hunted for words, “integers. Indivisible things. They are what they are. They are solid, and immutable. What you see is what you have. One stone won’t ever be two unless you cleave it in half, leaving smaller pieces. If an ocean splits, the two new oceans will each be smaller than the one before. But fire isn’t like that.”

Ace’s eyes burned like the hearts of stars. Burned as if drilling right into the core of Sabo’s being. “I am not like that,” he declared. “Fire spreads. A candle flame is a candle flame until you hold it to something else that burns. It waxes and wanes with the fuel it is fed. And,” Ace whispered in his ear, like a lover’s secret, “if there’s enough power at the start, it burns eternal.”

Sabo blinked, enthralled. Ace’s face was so close to his he could see each freckle was not just a spark, but a tiny star, a miniature sun set into the firmament of his skin. Ace was more than just simple fire, he knew. Or rather, fire was never as simple as it looked. It was the warmth of the hearth and the tame flames in lanterns and lamps, but also the liquid molten blood of mountains, the pulsing heart of the very land they stood on, and the light that illuminated the world. It was the sun itself, the bright beacon of the heavens that threw stars like sparks across the night’s darkness when the night took its turn.

A glowing finger trailed over a collarbone that gleamed almost as bright.

“I have been granted quite a lot of power,” Ace spoke softly against his lips, “to fulfil my wish for you.” A kiss, sweet as the brush of soft petals. “All that remains now is for you to be instated.”

Sabo couldn’t speak. It was as if everything that might allow him to was stolen from him. He- that- Did that really mean what he thought that meant? He swallowed heavily. For long moments, he was too choked up to speak. He clung to Ace, pressed his face into the junction of his God’s neck and shoulder. Trembled there, for a small eternity, from the sheer emotion Ace had invoked.

Finally, Sabo swallowed heavily. “So…,” he said haltingly. He swallowed again. “So I’m like you now?”

“You are mine now,” Ace corrected. “Fully and forever. I crafted your soul to stand at my side like an equal and aid me. To be my partner, my twin, my own forever. My companion for what remains of eternity. You will be a God in your own right, though your power will surely be kin to mine.”

Sabo trembled, and felt burning tears trace long lines on his face. “Ace- My lord, I- I’m just an ordinary human. I’m not worthy-“

Ace shushed him. “I am your God. I decide your worth,” he said decisively. “I chose you. That makes you perfect, my own.”

Sabo cried then. Cried in the lap of his God, under the eye of the God Kings and their pantheons.

None had ever really loved him. None had ever really cared. None had ever seen who he really was and decided he had worth.

And here was his God. Gazing into the very heart of his being. Offering him everything.

“Well, Sabo?” Ace said softly. “All that remains is presenting you to the God Kings. But for that you need to declare your acceptance of my decision for you. Will you declare that, for all the Worlds and Souls to witness?”

Sabo laughed. Laughed and cried, and when he finally lifted his head from Ace’s shoulder, his face was likely a mess. He looked at Ace as if he saw him for the first time, with elation and adoration and awe, each emotion deep as the ocean and just as overwhelming.

“Yes,” he replied. He gently took Ace’s face in his hands. This time he was the one who kissed Ace, kissed that wide, joyful smile, and the touch of his lips was sweet as the first taste of freedom.

“Yes. I accept.”