The Blue Shell Mermaid

Chapter 5

The Numancia Flamingo sailed onward across the frigid water of the North Blue sea, carried by the winter wind and the sails on its yards.

“Trebol,” said Doflamingo once he reached the executive officers’ lounge. Trebol was sitting on one of the armchairs, and Pica on the other, both busy with paperwork. “I need you to make a Vivre Card for my sister-in-law.”

Trebol looked up. “Do you have something we can use for it?”

“Here,” said Doflamingo, pulling out a small flask where a single strand of your hair stood. He’d retrieved it while exploring through your house while he waited for you to come home.

“Behe! You’re always prepared, Doffy.” said Trebol, laughing, mucus and sticky slime trailing down the hem of his coat.

“Always,” said Doflamingo, flashing his chief of staff a large, evil, satisfied grin. He put the flask into Trebol’s hand. “Will it be ready by tomorrow?”

“I’ll have the men work on it tonight, Doffy.” said Trebol, the boogers hanging off his nostrils as he smiled. “Should be ready in the morning, behe!”

“Good,” said Doflamingo. “Take one piece for yourself, too. Give the other pieces to Pica and Diamante.”

“Will do, behe!” said Trebol.

Doflamingo sunk into the pink bean bag with a sigh, the pink feathers of his coat fluttering as his large, long body plopped down. The feathers spread across the pink cover, the two varying pink shades complimenting each other. Doflamingo extended his long, lanky legs across the mellowy surface, letting his shoes extend along the wooden floorboard. His bones thanked him with a little, satisfied pop of tension in his knees. The bean bag hadn’t been used in six months since Corazon left. Doflamingo felt the lingering indent of his brother’s slightly shorter frame on the pillow.

“Do you want to put one of the officers to guard her when we make port?” asked Trebol, putting the glass vial in the pocket of his trousers.

“No. They already have enough work to deal with than babysit her,” said Doflamingo, waving his gloved hand dismissively. A devious, devilish grin bloomed across his face. “She seems to have a weak spot for Baby 5. She won’t act up with her, so for now, I’ll assign Baby 5 and Buffalo to keep an eye on her.”

“Roger that, captain,” said Trebol.

The door opened. Diamante marched in, his long legs covering the length of the room within two seconds.

“I need a drink,” said Diamante tiredly, walking straight to the liquor cabinet, pulling out the copy of the key.

They started locking the executives’ lounge room and the liquor cabinet six months ago because Buffalo stole a rum bottle (Diamante’s favourite brand, at that) When Diamante found out, he nearly cut Buffalo to pieces. If Doflamingo didn’t stop him by freezing him with his strings, he would have.

For stealing the rum, and underage drinking — none of the kids were allowed to drink until they were eighteen — Doflamingo strung up Buffalo for the entire day in his strings from the sails. After that, Trebol tortured Buffalo by giving his legs a depilation with hot candle wax - who knew it was such an effective torture technique! - and at the end Buffalo was assigned to mop the deck for the next three months.

Diamante opened the highest cabinet, taking out the bottle of rum. After he took it out, he turned, and blinked at the sight of Doflamingo.

“Oh, Doffy’s here.” said Diamante, surprised.

Doflamingo laughed, entertained by Diamante’s lack of awareness. “Fufufufu! Where else will I be?”

Diamante chuckled. “I thought you’d still be with your sister-in-law, comforting her as she cries on your shoulder.”

Trebol laughed nasally. “Behehe! That’s so funny my nose is running!”

Doflamingo laughed, his stomach shaking with the chuckles. “I left her so she can get some rest. There’s so much of me she can take, fufufufu!”

That was everything Doflamingo would say on that matter. He wasn’t going to tell them you started crying after he left.

Diamante would undoubtedly laugh about it. Doflamingo knew his executive would listen to his words to ‘go easy on you’. He’d already given Diamante one warning at lunch. No matter how much Diamante enjoyed taunting people with their suffering, Doflamingo wasn’t worried about Diamante crossing a line. You were family, and under the Blood Law. Diamante knew better than to take it too far. If he did, Doflamingo would make sure to deal with him properly.

“How were the kids’ lessons?” asked Doflamingo.

The kids had study lessons after lunch, either with Lao G or Señor Pink, and later, Baby 5 and Buffalo studied aerial battle tactics with Diamante. He wasn’t going to let any of the children be uneducated. Just because they were pirates didn’t mean they had to be ignorant.

Diamante sighed, and Doflamingo didn’t bother to stifle his laugh. Diamante sat down on the red couch with his rum bottle in hand.

“Buffalo fell asleep only after thirty minutes this time, at least. He should focus on studying more,” said Diamante, putting his leg atop his knee, spreading his long arms on the backrest of the couch.

“Buffalo is the brawl, Baby 5 is the brains,” said Pica, high-pitched voice spreading across the space. “I don’t think that will change anytime soon.”

Diamante nodded in agreement. “He’s the aircraft, she’s the pilot. Still, the aircraft needs to function properly for the pilot to fly it. I don’t want him doing stupid shit and putting himself and his passengers at risk with his flying manoeuvres.”

“Doffy, here’s the final report on our food storage at the end of this week,” said Trebol, offering papers clipped together to Doflamingo. “Everything is in good number except for one certain fish, behehe! Isn’t that funny, Doffy?”

“A fish?” asked Doflamingo, taking the clipped papers Trebol offered him, scanning through the numbers carefully.

The food supplies were all categorized by type: vegetables, fruits, red and white meats, fish and shellfish. He frowned at the kilograms of sardines left. Every other fish were the right number. Every two weeks, they restocked on fish by docking at the closest fishing ports and doing business with the local fishermen in the early hours of the morning. They bought 25 kilograms of sardines a week ago, and most of the crew didn’t eat sardines very much. Doflamingo considered them one of the fish they’d use as an emergency food, and was given as dinner to servants. The current number of stocked sardines was 10 kilograms. Two and a half kilograms less than there should be after a week.

“What happened to our sardines?” asked Doflamingo, noticing the amount had lessened massively within the last week.

“Dellinger,” said the three executives in sync.

Doflamingo frowned. “Didn’t we get a meter thick seastone doors for the freezing room?”

“The brat can’t get past that,” assured Diamante, waving his hand dismissively. He took a few large gulps of his rum before speaking again. “He sneaks into the kitchen and steals them fresh from the barrels when the chefs are making meals for the servants. The cooks can’t be bothered, since he bit off one’s hand... They only saw him once or twice with how fast he is.”

Doflamingo hummed. “We could set up security camera snails around the kitchen. I think we’ll need to do that anyway if my sister-in-law is going to cook sometimes.”

“I’ll let Giolla know to scold Dellinger,” said Doflamingo. “I need to visit her for (Y/N)’s clothes, anyway.”

Doflamingo decided to finally ask the question in his mind. He always valued his executives’ opinions.

“What do you all think about my sister-in-law?”

“I think she’s nice,” squealed Pica. When all three of them looked at him, he shuffled shyly, a light red hue on his cheeks. “She didn’t laugh at my voice.”

“I’m glad you think so, Pica,” said Doflamingo, sending a smile Pica’s way.

“I think she’s great, behehehe!” said Trebol. “It’ll be fun to see how she fares, behehehe!”

Diamante hummed thoughtfully, rolling his bottle of rum in the grip of his long fingers.

“She’s nice but there’s a limit to how much shit she’ll take before she doesn’t take shit. You can tell her parents were marines. She's putting up quite a good brave front. But she seems absolutely terrified of you, Doffy,” said Diamante, laughing. “Pissed like a sea king at you, too. How did you manage to eat those pancakes without her clawing your face off?”

“Devil’s charisma,” said Doflamingo with a devilish smile, lounging on the couch, leaning his head back on the backrest along with his arms. “And who said I wouldn’t like her trying to claw my face off? Fufufufu!”

After all, Doflamingo’s cock twitched and throbbed when you proved you would shoot him, when you bared your teeth at him, when you glared at him, when you shot at him. He’d been angry, but also, impressed, intrigued. But he also felt his aroural heighten when you made yourself small and curled into yourself when he intimidated you at lunch, when you hide deeper into his chest from the others when he carried you.

Diamante and Trebol laughed.

“Kinky,” said Diamante, smirking.

“Hey, hey, Doffy, you like her, don’t you?” asked Trebol, leaning over Doflamingo with a sleazy grin.

Doflamingo scowled at his chief of staff. “You’re too close.”

“Behehehe! Too close, but...?” Trebol leaned down to Doflamingo.

“But I like it,” said Doflamingo in a singing tone. Then, he smiled. “And yes, I like her. Now calm down and sit.”

“Behehehe!”

Trebol backed away and sat back down in his armchair, his coat of slime slopping over the floor.

“Feile is nice this time of year, no?” asked Doflamingo.

“For the winter festival, sure.” said Diamante. “If I remember right, it’s a month away.”

“Enough time to let my sister-in-law settle in.” Doflamingo grabbed one of the unopened wine bottles on the table, uncorked it with his hands, and took a gulp of wine. “I’m not letting her ashore yet.”

A wicked smile split across Doflamingo’s face. “I’ll test her in a week, and if she passes, I’ll let her out the week after, too.”

Doflamingo hoped you’d pass your test, unlike your husband, who failed his own.

“If it all goes well, I’ll take her on an outing in Feile in a month. Make sure to schedule our sail course so we reach it in time for the festival.”

You might not understand it now — or ever — but you are a precious person to Doflamingo. He would destroy the entire world to keep you by his side. He wasn’t going to let you leave him, and he wasn’t going to give you a chance to betray him. He was sure you had some marines you could call for help, so keeping Transponder Snails away from you - and providing one that is only capable of calling his personal Transponder Snail line — is a foolproof plan.

Corazón is one lucky bastard, to have gotten someone like you.

“Has Vergo called for news on Law?” Doflamingo asked, tone as authoritative and deep as ever. “Do we know which Navy base he’s been taken to, or has he already been transported to Marineford?”

While he’d been waiting for you at your house, Doflamingo contacted Vergo to look into the files and reports of the marine patrol ship that had been stationed on Minion Island for the tradeoff. According to Baby 5’s report, that was the ship Law boarded.

The thought of Law being taken to Marineford - far out of Doflamingo’s current reach - pissed him off.

“Purupurupurupuru!”

The pink snail with red lenses over eyes and a pink coat rang on the coffee table.

“Speaking of bamboos…” said Doflamingo with a satisfied smile. Leave it to Vergo. He was always punctual.

Sending a string out, Doflamingo grabbed the pink transponder snail from the coffee table.

“Ga-chak.” said the snail, signalling the connected signal.

“Great timing as always, Vergo,” said Doflamingo into the receiver. “I was just thinking of contacting you.”

“I have some news, Doffy.” said Vergo.

Doflamingo sat up. “Go on.”

“Law isn’t with the Navy at all.”

At the words which came from the snail’s mouth, Doflamingo and his executives froze, shocked — much like yesterday when Corazón told them Law ate the Op-Op Fruit.

“Wait a minute,” said Diamante, sitting up, placing his rum bottle down on the mahogany coffee table. “Didn’t Baby 5 pick up a transmission from the Navy saying they took a boy into protective custody? The only kid that could have been is Law. There were no other boys nearby!”

“Maybe Law gave them a fake name,” said Pica.

“I thought the same, so I checked the rescue’s file,” said Vergo. At this point, Diamante, Trebol and Pica were all squatted around the pink bean bag Doflamingo sat in, hovering around him. “Every evacuee needs to be registered and profiled for the reports, which includes having a photograph taken in case the kid is a missing case.”

“Let me guess,” said Doflamingo, voice growing deeper, rougher. “The boy on the picture wasn’t Law.”

“Yeah,” said Vergo. “It was another kid entirely. His name is Diaz Drake. He’s Diaz Barrels’ brat.”

“That loser had a kid?” asked Diamante, eyebrows raised. “Now I’m starting to think I might have a chance at love, haha!”

Vergo continued. “He must’ve been out of range of your Birdcage, Doffy. Then, he ran to the marines for help, and that’s the report Baby 5 picked up on.”

“Then where the hell was Law?” asked Diamante, puzzled. “He couldn’t have hidden anywhere —”

“None of you could have missed him, which means that part of Corazón’s words of Law getting out of the cage were true, but the thing with the marines picking him up was a lie. A lucky accident that turned out in Corazón’s favour. He did get out of the Birdcage with his powers. He must have gone the other way, away from the fighting.”

Doflamingo’s chest rose and fell, his shoulders shaking. Instead of a laugh, huffing, sharp breaths and growls slipped out of his mouth. More and more veins throbbed on his forehead and temples, until his entire forehead was covered in them, until all he could hear were his own angry panting breaths and the rumbling feeling of his growls.

Was every word out of Rosinante’s mouth a lie? The only truth for now that he confirmed were true was that he was a marine and that he fed Law the Op-Op Fruit.

“DAMNED BASTARD!” roared Doflamingo.

He flung the wine bottle down to the floor. The glass shattered, the wine pouring out, splattering the floor like rose petals.

They lost an entire day. A day that gave Law an opportunity to leave Minion Island by now. Law might have been right in front of them… It must have been Rosi… Rosi must have used his Devil Fruit on Law… made it so Law wouldn’t make a sound, and so they couldn’t hear him.

What if Law had been only meters away from him, running away from him across the snow in a camouflaged cloak not to be seen? 

There was no way to know.

Slowly, Doflamingo started to laugh. Short, deep chuckles. He shouldn’t have shot Corazón. He shouldn’t have given him such an easy death worthy of a Celestial. He should have strangled him.

You lying little shit, Rosinante.

“Fufufufu…” Doflamingo chuckled some more before the laughter died out. “It doesn’t matter. Even if we don’t find Law, he’ll come back.”

“Vergo, search Minion Island thoroughly.” Doflamingo commanded. “Law might be hiding in the wild or in the towns.”

“That won’t be a problem, Doffy.” assured Vergo. “I’m on patrol duty, anyway.”

“While you do that, I’ll have the officers contact our underlings and spread them around every island in North Blue to search for Law,” said Doflamingo. “Keep an eye out on the Navy. I don’t want them knowing Law’s missing, but with their knack for covering up the truth of their dirty work in Flevance, I’m sure we won’t need to worry about that. They’ve never hunted him before.”

“But one of those reasons is because he was hidden under your mantle, Doffy.” said Vergo.

Doflamingo chuckled, feeling his blood burn in rage. But he laughed. That was all he could do now. Laugh it off.

“Yeah. Corazón really screwed it up by taking him to hospitals and into the public eye… It can't be helped. It’s a workload I’m giving you, even after everything that happened with Corazón, but…”

“That’s what I’m here for, Doffy,” said Vergo calmly, assuredly, the pink snail imitating his calm expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll track Law down.”

It was a relief after Corazón’s betrayal - his own little brother who he trusted more than anyone in the world - to know that Vergo would never betray him, that Vergo would always put Doflamingo’s interests and goals first, that Vergo would always be ready to help him and tell him the truth up front.

“It’s rather quiet at the base and Marineford, anyway. I even have time to entertain some lovely company, but being on the field is better.”

“Vergo’s getting some!” Diamante yelled, toasting with his rum bottle. Then, he asked as an afterthought, “Is she hot?”

Doflamingo could hear Vergo roll his eyes.

“Marineford women are irresistible, aren’t they?” asked Doflamingo, licking his teeth hungrily as he thought of you. Even if you weren’t a marine, you were still the daughter of both marine parents, and it was clear in how you handled yourself with his crew. “No wonder they guard that place like the second Holy Land, fufufufu!”

“Speaking of Marineford women, how’s your sister-in-law?” asked Vergo. “Did everything go well?”

“Yeah,” said Doflamingo pulling his long legs up, resting his feet on the mahogany coffee table. “She’s in my cabin right now. She’s a bit angry, but it’ll pass. A sharp little bird, too.”

“I’m glad to hear it all went well for you, Doffy.” said Vergo. “I look forward to meeting her.”

“It’s better if you don’t,” said Doflamingo, laughing. “She’ll try to kill you!”

The transponder snail looked confused. “She knows about me?”

Doflamingo hummed. “Not exactly, but as I said — she’s a sharp little bird. From what she let slip, I wouldn’t be surprised if Corazón talked about you to her, even though he didn’t know what your assignment was at the time. She’s probably connected the puzzle pieces already, except she doesn’t know how you look like or your name.”

“I see.” said Vergo.

“I made a mistake with my brother.” said Doflamingo. A firm, determined line of his lips instead of a smile settled on his mouth, undoubtedly mimicked by Vergo’s transponder snail. “I won’t make the same one with my sister-in-law. Corazón let her fly free, but that’s not how I’m going to do things.”

The best way to keep you from doing something stupid is to keep you close and on a short, tight leash, within arm’s reach.

“Thanks for your help, as always.” said Doflamingo, smiling.

“Of course,” said Vergo, a tiny quirk of a smile on the snail’s mouth. “Stay safe, Doffy.”

Doflamingo put the receiver down, ending the call with the snail's "Ga-chak."

He grunted.

He needed a drink. A strong one.

“Diamante,” said Doflamingo with a curved smile on his face, as he stared up at the wooden ceiling, his blond hair sprawled over the pink fabric of the bean bag like a holy halo. “Do you have another bottle?”

Diamante guffawed enthusiastically. “Now you’re talkin’!”

After going through the paperwork, Doflamingo had about thirty minutes left before dinner. He headed to the second floor of the Numancia’s underbelly where other rooms were, to Giolla’s art room.

It was strange to know Rosinante would never walk around the Numancia again. That Doflamingo would never see him smoking on the deck again. That Rosinante would never sit beside him at mealtimes or meetings again, never drink wine with him again in the lounge room at two in the morning when neither of them could sleep from the nightmares. That he would never look to his right and see Rosi standing there, most times with his coat on fire from his own cigarette.

There used to be two of them against the world. Two gods stripped of their rightful thrones in the holy land. Doflamingo was so happy when Rosinante came back to him, alive, because he thought he’d lost him, he thought he was alone.

And now… there were no longer two Celestial Dragons in this hell. Now, it was just Doflamingo. Now, Doflamingo really was alone. 

Just like before Rosinante came back.

And he only came back to try to destroy his life, not because he wanted to see him, to live with him, to catch up and to close the gap of years they missed together.

What a cruel little brother… leaving his big brother all alone...

No... That wasn’t entirely true. He had you. The wife of his dead brother, the wife of a dead god, sister-in-law of the remaining god.

It was a shame. His brother had been a great right-hand man.

His little brother wasn’t a social butterfly like him. Rosinante was shy and timid, even in adulthood. He didn’t like strangers, he didn’t like crowds. He seemed mildly annoyed sometimes by all the people around him. It was due to his size and silence that he appeared as malicious as Doflamingo. Rosinante’s silence added a sense of mystery and danger to him rather than revealed him for the awkward klutz he truly was. Many people, including Doflamingo’s business partners, were always uneasy around Rosinante because of how comfortable Rosinante was with being in silence and staring.

Doflamingo was never unsettled by Rosinante’s behavior - it was how his brother had always been. Quiet, observing the world around him. Rosinante’s behavior complimented Doflamingo’s, and he always had Rosinante sit on his right on the couch during meetings, enjoying the way his brother’s presence made people - enemies and associates - squirm.

It made Doflamingo proud.

The doors of Giolla's art room was painted a red-orange color with abstract shapes decorating them. The shapes were colored yellow, purple, blue, green and pink. There were handprints across the doors, too, ranging in size from a baby’s palm (Dellinger) to a child’s (Law’s yellow palm print, Baby 5’s purple one, Buffalo’s orange one) to adult ones (grey was Gladius, bright red Diamante’s navy blue Lao G’s, crimson orange was Giolla’s) , including Doflamingo’s palm, marked in pink. There was a handprint a bit further from Doflamingo’s pink palm print. A light blue one, a hand only slightly smaller than his.

Rosinante’s handprint.

They should paint that. There was enough space near Doflamingo’s hand print for you to make your hand print. He wondered what colour you’d choose. Maybe primrose yellow.

Doflamingo opened the doors.

“Giolla?” he called out to the room. “It’s me.”

“Come in, Young Master!” came Giolla’s voice from deeper in the room. “And watch your head, zamasu!”

Doflamingo ducked under the doorframe, entering the colorful room. The walls were covered in paintings of all kinds, in vibrant colors anyone unused to it would shut their eyes at the amount of color on the walls. The hanging racks were covered with clothes of all shapes, styles and sizes. There were pants, dress shirts, skirts, dresses. Thick rolls of fabrics such as silk, linen and cotton of different colors and patterns hung from the ceiling.

In the other section of the room were easels with canvases, some covered, some uncovered, with numerous colors of both finished and unfinished paintings. Palettes filled with paints sat beside them, with brushes resting in colored water cups, alongside palette knives. There was another wall of sketches of clothing, and pictures of finished designs.

Giolla peeked her head out. Her shoulders were covered in clothes. “Perfect timing, Young Master!”

Uh-oh. Doflamingo knew that excited smile. Giolla was going to use him as her mannequin.

Proving him right, Giolla approached him and handed him large, white-framed sunglasses with blue polarised lenses. “Try these on, please!”

Doflamingo took them between his fingers, and mounted the sunglasses on the bridge of his sharp nose, over his own sunglasses. The sudden shift of to blue was startling.

Everything seemed... Calmer.

The frames of these sunglasses were so big they completely covered his own.

“Not quite my color,” said Doflamingo, testing a few steps with the blue lenses coloring his sharp sight. The blue polarization was such a massive change from the sunset red polarized lenses he was so focused trying to make out the colors in this new, darker hue he stumbled slightly, bumping into one of the shelves with the sewing kits.

Giolla reached forward and steadied him, escorting him in front of a wall mirror. Doflamingo stared at the square-shaped white frames. “And the shape of the frames is a bit too big, it covers too much of my face. The colours aren’t as vibrant, and the shading is too dark.”

Giolla hummed, not arguing against the observation. “Blue lenses are best for flat surfaces like snow and water, so I thought you might switch them up for winter this year. But oh well.”

Doflamingo took the sunglasses off, giving them back to Giolla.

“I’ll contact the optometrist for another lenses and frames.” said Giolla. She studied the frames thoughtfully. “Vise might like these.”

“Can we order aviators with sunset polarized lenses?” asked Doflamingo.

“Didn’t you already have a pair of those?” asked Giolla.

“Fufufu, I gave them to Vergo.” said Doflamingo. “He’s experiencing more sun in Marineford right now than we are, anyway.”

“He does need to have some colour in his outfit, damasu. It’s too monochrome.” commented Giolla.

“Exactly!” said Doflamingo, glad Giolla understood.

“Sunglasses aren’t why I came,” said Doflamingo. “Dellinger has been sneaking through the kitchen and eating too much sardines. He ate a whole kilogram.”

“Oh, dear!” gasped Giolla. “What a naughty boy. I’ll make sure to discipline him, Young Master! That’s completely unacceptable, zamasu!”

“Only verbal,” said Doflamingo, chuckling. “Don’t let him know he’s been caught red-handed. If he gets caught again, we’ll do things another way.”

“Understood,” said Giolla. Despite raising Dellinger, she wasn’t above disciplining him when he did something wrong.

“Also,” said Doflamingo. He reached into the large bag he was carrying and pulled out a large, feathery attire. “I’d like you to resize this.”

Giolla gasped. “Oh, my!”

Carefully, Giolla reached for Corazon’s massive, black-feathered coat, and placed it onto the hanger.

“I’ll bring my sister-in-law here so you can take measurements for her clothes tomorrow.” Doflamingo said. “Do we have all the fabrics and colours I picked?”

“Of course, zamasu!” said Giolla proudly. She was so excited she was fluttering around on her heels like a fairy. She came to a stop in front of the mannequin with cloth around it. “This will be my greatest project yet thanks to you, Young Master! Oh, I can’t wait to get started on all the dresses you’ve instructed for missus! Oh, where did I put my pins?”

“She’ll want to wear black for a while, I’m sure. I’d like her to have something of his to help her feel more at ease here.” said Doflamingo, handing Giolla the silk pins so she could attach them to the silk, maroon fabric. “How long does the mourning period last?”

“It depends on the person,” said Giolla, putting more pins into the red fabric. “Some widows mourn for a month, some for six months, some for a year, zamasu. Some their entire life.”

Doflamingo frowned, not happy with the answer. He wasn’t going to let you wear black for more than a few months at most. He didn’t like the thought of black clothes on you. It reminded him too much of his brother’s black feather coat.

Doflamingo wasn’t a monster. He’d let you wear black clothes if you wanted to. In fact, he wouldn’t simply tolerate it, he’d provide you with some leftovers of his brother for you. He was sure you’d appreciate that.

“After my sister-in-law stops wearing it, we’ll resize it for Law when he’s back, or dye it for him. I think he’d like a dark blue or yellow one.  Or we might as well commission the tailor to make him his own, fufufu!”

The idea made Doflamingo smile proudly. That would be a sight to see.

Giolla went back to the coat, inspecting it, checking its pockets. She took the left feathery sleeve and gave it a small inhale.

“It smells like coal and cigarettes,” said Giolla, scrunching her nose distastefully.

Doflamingo let out a bark of laughter.

“It does, doesn’t it?” asked Doflamingo, chuckling. “How many times have we washed it now trying to get rid of the smell of nicotine? I think it’s surpassed fifty.”

“Sixty-seven times.”

Doflamingo laughed again.

“What do you think, Giolla?” Doflamingo asked after he was done laughing.

“I think this is a great idea, Young Master!” chirped Giolla, full of enthusiasm, as she always was when it came to projects regarding clothes. “After all, this coat was expensive! It’d be a shame to let it gather dust. And I’m sure the missus will like it, zamasu.”

Doflamingo hummed.

“You’re a kind man, Young Master.”

Doflamingo sinks into the large, plush, bright orange lounge sofa, crossing his arms and scowling. “She doesn’t think so.”

“And what do you think about her?” asked Giolla, a curious smile on her face.

Doflamingo snorted, falling back on the orange lounge sofa, letting his upper body lead with the movement. He folded his arms behind his head, relaxing on the soft surface. Giolla’s art and fashion room in one was his second favorite spot on the ship. He could take great naps here. She forbid everyone except himself, Baby 5 and Dellinger access to the room.

“I think my brother didn’t deserve her,” he said with an angry smile, because it was funny — and infuriating — how someone as clumsy as his brother got someone like you.

Giolla sighed. “Deserve or not deserve, she chose him.”

Doflamingo frowned. He was sure you chose his brother only because you haven’t met Doflamingo first instead. Doflamingo was sure that if you’d met him first, you’d have liked him.

That you’d have chosen Doflamingo, not his brother.

“She’ll eventually see what we all see, and be happy here, zamasu.” said Giolla, tone assuring and gentle, her smile soft. “And I’m sure she’ll appreciate the coat.”

“I hope so,” said Doflamingo, a sharp smile on his face. “I don’t want her hung up on my brother and not able to enjoy her new life here.”

Doflamingo lifted all of the length of his long legs onto the orange sofa, taking up the entirety of it. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up before dinner.”

Giolla giggled sweetly. “Yes, Young Master.”

Doflamingo slumped his head on the pink pillow, extended his long body, and let his eyes drift shut.

While Doflamingo was away and you were locked in his bedroom like a wild pet he acquired, after you were done crying and washed your face from the tears, ignoring your bloodshot eyes as the one single proof of the misery you felt over your situation, you started searching for a weapon or a transponder snail. Whichever would work for you. Any pirate worth their salt would have some sort of weapon hidden somewhere in their cabin, especially a pirate with as large of a bounty on his head as Doflamingo.

You looked under the pillows first, between the headboard and mattress, then under the bed. No pistol or snail. 

Next, you searched through Doflamingo’s wardrobe, opening up boxes, finding expensive watches, rings, earrings and bracelets in the first one, belts in the second one, and a red cashmere scarf in the third one. You dragged over a chair and climbed up on it to reach the upper shelf above the hanger, but all you found were elegant, stylish men’s hats, including something as traditional and as ordinary as a straw hat. 

Next, you searched through the night desks.

Yours was empty. There were books and newspapers in the drawer of Doflamingo’s night desk.

You froze when you found two photographs.

It was a picture of Doflamingo and Rosi when they were children. They were both wearing clothes the few noble children you saw in newspapers wore, short-sleeved dress shirts and cravats. Both of them were smiling at the camera, hugging each other. Doflamingo's smile wasn't malicious or wicked. It was bright and cheery, genuine. It took you off guard to see how nice Doflamingo's real smile was. Doflamingo’s hair was cut short, while Rosi’s bangs covered his eyes. They looked so happy and sweet.

Another picture laid beside that one. It was of the brothers again, maybe taken a year ago. Doflamingo was smiling, his arm wrapped around Rosi’s shoulders. The taller Donquixote leaned against Rosi’s black feather coat. Rosi continued smoking his cigarette, looking cool. You could see a small smile curving your husband’s lips up, something you easily spotted despite the lipstick covering them.

Your throat choked up, your lips trembling. 

You put the pictures back where you found them.

You opened up one of the treasure chests lying around the room, expecting to find maps or treasure. What you found was an old red leather jacket with pink feathers on the collar and lapel, as well as piloting goggles and fingerless elbow length red fingerless gloves. 

You opened another chest. This one was filled with history books, geographic books of islands all over the world, economy books, navigation books, maritime weather books, animal and plant encyclopedias of numerous islands.

To your horror, you found the navy blue leather hardcovers with the marine symbol engraved on it. You grabbed the first one you saw, eyes wide, your heart beating loudly, full of horror and disbelief. They were the Navy-issued textbooks you saw on Rosi’s bookshelf from his time as a recruit, including textbooks on strategy, warfare and interrogation.

You felt cold dread sweep over you, your throat tightening up. Anyone could get some of the basic Navy books, purchase them in any bookstore to pass the first marine exam during their time as a student, but these other textbooks were only given to official recruits, most of them piling up after the recruit graduated the Marine Academy. 

But Doflamingo had them. There was a stamp of approval and the receipt pasted on their copyright pages!

There were two possible answers. One, Doflamingo robbed your house and stole Rosi’s books. Two, a marine with a clearance bought them for him.

There were more books — psychology, sociology, cultures of islands, island fauna, island soil, weather on islands, sailing, navigation, chess books — all newest editions. Some had old spines, and were worn, and when you checked their front page, you realised they were stolen from libraries, some of them dating as far as six hundred years ago. There were poetry books, too, in the library section of his bedroom, sorted appropriately by genres atop the dark-wooden bookcase. Poetry, literature, politics, military strategy, diplomacy, geography, cartography, music, astronomy, all in their own rows. 

You searched everywhere, but found no weapons. Was Doflamingo so arrogant he didn’t keep a gun anywhere in his bedroom?

Alright. Bathroom next. It’s bound to have something.

There were no scissors. There were no straight razors, either. There was shaving cream, shampoos, perfumes, body oils, bathing oils, hair gel, hair cream, so many hair and skincare products you felt like you were in a woman’s bathroom, not a man’s. 

There was a drawer you tried to open, but it wouldn’t budge. It was sewn shut. It must be the drawer where Doflamingo put the razors and anything sharp, keeping it from you.

Did he… did he secure his bedroom and bathroom before putting you in here?

You searched some more. There were hair brushes and hair combs in the drawer, along with hair ties, scrunchies, bobby pins, hair clips, hair pinks, hair rollers of all sizes, sleep bonnets and hair nets. 

What the absolute fuck? 

At least there were some bobby pins. You could try to pick the lock with those. 

You noticed there were two toothbrushes in the pink holder cup. One was large and pink, the other normal size and white. The white one looked brand new. 

Saints. The flamingo psycho bought you a toothbrush.

Deciding there was nothing good in the ensuite bathroom, you returned to the bedroom and started searching for something heavy. A golden small statue, a metal flask. You could hit him in the - well, not the head, that was out of your reach - knee or groin and run for it. 

Except, even if you did manage to make it to the deck, the freezing temperature of North Blue would kill you within ten minutes.

There were definitely glasses in the drinking cabinet, but it was locked shut.

All the safety Doflamingo went through to secure his room to keep you from getting any weapons to try to kill him made you feel like a kid. You felt like a puppy in a lion’s den.

The doors of the bedroom unlocked. You flinched, whipping your head to the doors.

And there he was, intimidating ten meters of merlot and pink. You felt the moment his eyes landed on you, the moment his attention weighed on you. There was a furrow on the skin of his eyebrow line and forehead.

“He’s in a bad mood.” Rosi’s voice said.

With demonic sunglasses and a treacherous grin, Doflamingo entered the bedroom, stepping past the threshold. He looked like he was going to eat your soul, a beast ready to drag you to the deep pits of fiery, burning hell. Not because you were a sinner, but because he simply wanted to take an innocent person like you.

You knew that there was no way you could beat him in a fight. It wouldn’t be a fight. It never would be.

He noticed the marine book you were holding.

“It’s a fake code.” There was an assuredness and calm to his voice, along with a depth and sharpness you started picking up on. This was the sort of tone his voice took on when he got angry, sharp as his vile, deadly strings. It didn’t seem to be aimed at or caused by you, though. “23rd is the day I was born. Ten is for the month I was born, October.”

Of course. It was just the numbers of his birthday. Why didn’t you notice that? You were too immersed in thinking you’d found valuable information to identify Doflamingo’s spy in the marines that the simplest detail escaped you, went right under your radar. You tried not to show the embarrassment you felt on your face.

“I know when your birthday is,” you said. You snapped the book shut, the sound both clipped and sharp, like closing the doors on someone you never wanted to see.

Doflamingo chuckled at you.

“Don’t worry about missing it. It’s always things hidden in plain sight that don’t get noticed.” said Doflamingo, prowling towards you, hands in his pockets except for his thumbs. The pink coat trailing after his tall body made him seem even larger. With his slouched shoulders and back, he reminded you of a lion stalking toward an antelope. “Normal people wouldn’t think something as simple as someone’s birthday could be a code. People think it’s too convenient, too simple. That’s why most people use their birthdays, or the birthdays of someone close to them, or a certain date in their lives, or a certain year, as pins for safes.”

He smirked, his white teeth flashing. “You’d be surprised how many safes in noblemen’s houses had their birthdays as the security code. Simple, but effective.”

“Can’t you cut open the safe with your strings?” you asked, putting the book back where you found it, moving across the room to get it back onto the bookshelf. You couldn’t stand still around Doflamingo. You couldn’t freeze up. If you froze up, it gave him the idea he was in control, that he had you scared to death of him, hyper aware of his presence.

You were, but there was no reason to show it.

Much like every marine you met told you, from your parents to Tsuru-san to Sengoku-san, and including Rosi, “Even if it is true, and you are terrified, there’s no need to show it.”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? Fufufufu!”

He was sort of funny. If he were a normal man, you would have smiled, would have been charmed by his jokes, despite them holding a dark truth under their surface. He had a sort of morbid humor to him he approached calmly in life.

It reminded you of Law, and the fact the thought such as that passed your mind made you uneasy.

“So, what, you guess the combination?” you asked.

“No,” said Doflamingo, smiling a vicious, devilish smile. He put his right hand up, index finger pointing forward, thumb up, imitating a gun. “I put a gun to the owner’s head, and they tell me on their own. Sometimes they piss themselves, fufufufufu! It’s hilarious!”

You didn’t see anything funny in a gun being pointed to your head.

“I’m afraid if you want to know all the books I translated, I’m the last person you should ask.” you said, putting the book back where you found it. “I can name about five of them, but that’s it.”

Doflamingo chuckled. He didn’t seem at all insulted by the change of subject.

“Don’t worry,” said Doflamingo, smiling that wicked smile down at you. “My associate made me a list of all the books you translated.”

That’s how he knew about them… how much did Doflamingo know about your life? 

“How thorough,” you said dryly, fighting back a panic attack. The more you found out about how much Doflamingo knew about you, about your entire life, your habits, your job, the more uneasy you felt. 

“He’ll make you want to give up.” Rosi’s voice said, cutting through the rising darkness of hopelessness in your thoughts like a streak of sunlight; warm, confident, unafraid. “Don’t.”

“You know what I just found out?” asked Doflamingo, the sharp smile back on his face. There was an underlying sense of danger in that smile, making your entire body tense. “I found out just how much of a liar my dear little brother was.”

You said nothing. Simply stared, hoping your eyes were doing the talking. Of course your husband had deceived Doflamingo. Was Rosi supposed to have strolled into Spider Miles in his marine uniform and asked to share a drink with Doflamingo? He would have been shot at the gates. 

You wondered what sort of mental gymnastics Doflamingo’s crazy brain was doing to think of it as something personal. 

But of course he did. They were brothers. You may not have a sibling, but you know enough about them to know that no matter how much they fought or argued, in the end, they always had each other’s backs.

Of course Doflamingo was going to think it was personal. He would never think Rosinante did it because he felt it was his duty.

You didn’t like the thought of Rosinante going on the mission because of how personal it was. But it was Rosinante’s choice. You respect whatever decision Rosinante made regarding how to deal with Doflamingo, because at the end of the day, Rosinante was the only one who understood Doflamingo.

It wasn’t that Rosinante took on the mission out of revenge for what Doflamingo did to their father. Rosinante took it on because he knew that he was the only one who could. He knew he was the only one who could get deep into Doflamingo’s web and roam it unbothered. He’d agonized over the decision whether to go or not.

Rosi felt he was responsible for Doflamingo. He felt that stopping Doflamingo was his duty, his responsibility.

“I’d rather see Doffy in prison than dead.” Rosi said to you, staring hard at the newspapers where Doflamingo’s wanted poster was.

In the end, it’s you who’s dead now, Rosi. you thought, fighting back a swell of tears.

“It made me realize something about the two of us.” Doflamingo said, gesturing to himself and you with that long, deadly, tanned finger he used to cut people down or puppeteer them. You shivered on instinct. 

The way he said the two of us… Like the two of you were some kind of victims.

“We’re just two people left behind by Corazón for his own selfishness and sense of justice,” crooned Doflamingo, pacing to the closest armchair in the room. He sunk down into the plush seat, and tilted his head at you. “Is that something you like in men? Morals and justice? Even if it means they’ll abandon you for such things? Saving a stranger over you? Dying for a stranger over dying for you? To me, that’s not a man.” Doflamingo leaned back on the dark armchair, sending you a big grin devoid of any happiness. “That’s a coward.”

The word was a disgusted sneer, his smile a taunt. It was a sick, twisted game, and you weren’t in the mood to play.

You clenched your jaw. You lifted your head, and stared right at him, right at his grinning face, at his too wide, arrogant smile, at his sunglasses.

“Settle your problems with Rosi by yourself.” you said firmly.

“I bet he loved it,” said Doflamingo. “He gets to be the tragic hero in the story, and he gets to villainize me to Law and you. Make Law run away, and make you think I’m the devil.”

Of all the things he’s said today, this one felt like the greatest insult not just to yours and Law’s intelligence, but an insult to Rosi. Unlike Doflamingo, Rosi doesn’t strangle people until they can’t breathe anymore.

“I can make my own opinions,” you said, frowning at him. “You’re a bad person, Doflamingo.”

“I won’t pretend I’m not,” said Doflamingo, smiling like the devil. “I’m ambitious. I do what I need to do to get what I want. If people get in my way, that’s their own fault. If the weak don’t run away or obey and get killed because of that, that’s their own fault. They should know when faced with an overwhelming force, you either bend or you’re broken. If the marines want to stop me, they need to send someone like Tsuru after me. I can handle idiots like Vice Admiral Garp. Get on their nerves and they lose the fight in a single minute, fufufu!” 

“They made a mistake sending Rosi after me. My brother wasn’t an overwhelming force.”

“What happens when overwhelming force meets overwhelming force?” you asked, looking at the Demon of North Blue, thinking about a certain marine with an ancient Zoan Fruit. “What happens when someone as strong as you and someone who can keep their cool fights you?”

Doflamingo smiled. “Then you get an interesting fight, fufufufu!”

“You’re a good conversationalist.” Doflamingo smiled, all teeth. He looked excited, like a child with a new expensive, wonderful toy. “I like talking to you.”

To you, that wasn’t a compliment.

“It’s too bad, that we didn’t meet in happier conditions. I’d have told you all the embarrassing things Rosi did as a kid. Better said, things I tugged him along to do with me, fufufu!”

You said nothing.

“Speaking of…” murmured Doflamingo. “I brought you something.”

Doflamingo stood up from the armchair, and walked to your closet. He searched through the clothes on the hangars, then after a moment, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a blue dress. Your eyes bulged, stretching wide open. You recognized it. It was the dress Rosinante bought you. It had been one of the most expensive pieces of clothing you owned.

Doflamingo approached you, and put the dress on your lap; careful, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. It was freshly ironed, smooth above your fingers. Your hands didn’t move. You just stared, your brain trying to process and catch up to everything else. The tears began to sting at your eyes, welling up. Your throat felt thick and clogged.

“My dress…” you whispered, touching the soft fabric carefully, not daring to think it was real. Once your fingers felt it, you realised it was. 

“It was the only thing worth keeping,” said Doflamingo. “I’ll buy you real dresses once we make port in Beliera.”

“l’m surprised.” Doflamingo laughed. “Since Corazón was always bad at fash -”

Doflamingo’s speech was interrupted by your sob. Before you knew it, tears spilled out of your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. When they started, you couldn’t stop them. There was an entire sea of tears inside you, far from being drained.

They weren’t tears of agony or sadness. They were tears of relief. You had something. Something material, something you could touch, and remember Rosi. 

“Thank you.”

The words were sobbed out of your mouth, relieved and grateful. Your shoulders started shaking as you sobbed and cried.

You looked at Doflamingo.

For the first time since Rosinante died, you smiled. It was a real smile. It wasn’t tainted by sadness, agony or sorrow. It was a small smile, but it was a bright, genuine one, full of happiness.

You smiled at him.

Doflamingo’s lips parted, his breath leaving him in what sounded similar to a soft gasp. He looked like he got all the air knocked out of him. He looked at you like a child who was seeing something new for the first time. And he didn’t know how to react to it — to you.

You didn’t know how long you cried for, there in front of Doflamingo, Rosi’s brother, Rosi’s murderer. 

Once the last sob shook out of your shaking ribs, Doflamingo lowered himself to be at your height. His hand reached out, and your eyes closed shut on instinct as that large, tanned hand approached you, your entire body flinching —

Warm, large fingers brushed away your tears, pressing on your red, flushed cheeks. They did so carefully, his thumb caressing the salty water away from your face. They caught the water, brushing under your eyelids, wiping the final tears away. The pads of his fingers lightly touched your eyelashes, like the sun drying the morning dew off of the tips of grass.

You realized you weren’t breathing. Your breath was trapped in your lungs, held in your chest. Then, when the hand left, and you felt him lean away, you peeked your eyes open.

Doflamingo looked warm under the candlelight.

“How about you put it on for dinner?” he asked, his deep voice traveling into your ears like threads of silk. He smiled, a faux sweetness of a thin curve of white teeth.

You blinked, surprised.

“Right now?” you asked, eyes burning from the tears.

Doflamingo nodded, expectant. Despite there not being any aggressive air to his body language, you felt the tension around you, the pressure in the air his mere presence held. It felt suffocating.

You frowned. This was a summer dress. It was the middle of November right now, with the cold reaching to zero degrees. You’d freeze to death in it. 

But you couldn’t say no, now could you?

“Alright,” you said. 

You got up, walked past him, fighting off the goosebumps as you passed his leg, and hurried to the bathroom and closed the doors. There was no key in the lock. Taking a breath, you stripped - quickly, as fast as the blink of an eye - pulling off your blouse and pants. You quickly slipped into the dress, pulling it over your head. There was no zipper. You checked yourself in the mirror and took a bit of water and wiped at your face and eyes.

You folded your clothes and got out, all within two minutes.

Doflamingo smiled when he saw you, like a hungry beast about to eat you. His smile stretched from ear to ear, all of his large, white teeth on display.

“Beautiful,” he crooned, his powerful voice brushing along your spine like phantom fingers.

Your stomach clenched at the comment. The way Doflamingo looked at you made you deeply uncomfortable. You were glad you were wearing a bra underneath. With the way Doflamingo was grinning, you felt incredibly exposed.

“Here,” said Doflamingo, offering you a knee-length, pink woolen cardigan. “You’ll be cold without it.”

You should run. But there is nowhere to go.

With Rosinante, you could always go wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted. With Rosinante, you had the freedom to leave anytime. Rosinante wasn’t the sort of man who would restrict you or try to control you. Rosinante always respected your choices, and if you ever wanted to leave, you knew you could. It wasn’t about Rosinante allowing you to leave. He simply wouldn’t get in your way or try to stop you if you felt unsafe with him and wanted to leave. He’d simply accept it.

That was the sort of feeling Rosinante gave off.

The feeling Doflamingo gave you was the complete opposite.

With Doflamingo, there was no freedom to leave.

You swallow your grief, and take the offered cardigan, careful not to have your fingers touch Doflamingo’s own. You try not to look at his fingers. Their touch and warmth lingered on your cheeks. 

You slipped your arms into the sleeves, adjusting the fabric to sit comfortably around your shoulders. It was a perfect fit.

Doflamingo smiled. He looked incredibly pleased. You hoped he one day choked on his arrogance. 

“Pink and blue… They go surprisingly well together, fufufu!”

Doflamingo offered you his tanned hand. You swallowed. His outstretched, large palm and long fingers felt like staring at the void of the deep sea on the edge of a tall cliff.

There was no choice. 

You put your hand into his fingers. His fingers curled around your much smaller hand, wrapping around it. His sunglasses gleamed, his wicked smile as possessive as his hand which wrapped around your own. His massive hand completely engulfed your petite-looking one into the warm cage of his palm and fingers, like your hand was a precious golden coin only he could have.

One he would possessively keep.

Doflamingo led you out of the bedroom like a gentleman guiding a lady, but his grip was the demon’s.

Doflamingo lying on the bean bag

A/N: Thank you all for reading, for commenting, for leaving little hearts on this story! I love writing this story but what I love even more is sharing it with you and screaming along with you! 🥰 Thank you all, I love you 💖🫶🏻💕

Some fun references in the chapter were the straw hat and Reader saying Doflamingo is a "bad guy" in her point of view, similar to how Luffy sometimes has a "vibe detector", as when he said "Torao is a good guy." for Law. I am NOT saying Reader has that same detector as Luffy, just that it's a tiny nod/reference if you WANT it to be. Reader just... Makes conclusions as she goes+learns+gut instinct. Luffy uses... Idk what Luffy uses. Not his brain. He's so... Luffy. It's a Luffy Detector only known to Luffy. And even then Luffy WILL get tricked if food is on the menu 🤣🤣 He almost got tricked by food by Doffy himself, and Doffy didn't even offer food, Luffy just nearly tricked himself by thinking Doffy has some great meat 🤣

Little Doffy & Rosi