astra inclinant - "the stars incline us"

On Rosi's sixth birthday, Doflamingo tried to kill a bird.

It wasn't his fault. The nest was settled on the lowest branch, the four speckled eggs hidden inside like gemstones. He was just curious and wanted a better look. He even climbed up the tree on his own instead of having one of the slaves act as a stepladder.

He wasn't going to do anything. He didn't mean any harm.

The bird was too stupid to understand that. It flew at him through the copse, beak drilling down on his hand just as he'd edged close enough to the nest. Doflamingo gasped, more out of surprise than pain and fell from his perch.

It wasn't a fatal height. He didn't even bruise, the grass cushioning his fall, but for a moment, Doflamingo sat there, stunned, the impact vibrating through his limbs.

Then the bird dove at him again and Doflamingo saw red.

With one swipe, he trapped it in his hands. It began flailing immediately, screeching and squawking. It was smaller than he'd initially thought. His hands, large for a child (Mother had even said it was a sign he would grow up to be a very tall man indeed), pinned down the wings with ease.

The creature was very fragile, spindly barely-there bones behind a mass of white-gray feathers. They were like toothpicks. Would they snap like toothpicks too?

Eyes were on him. The wide, dull ones of slaves. They'd stopped working, a gaggle of pale and silent faces. Some of the females had hands over their mouths. Doflamingo smiled, strangely giddy. An audience.

"Brother?"

The slaves parted like the sea. Rosi stepped into the courtyard, jangling birthday boy trinkets and gold as he approached. The bird made another warble of distress, weaker now than before.

He didn't like the way Rosi gasped when he saw it. How his expression matched those of the inferiors. Doflamingo frowned, relaxing his grip momentarily. He didn't stand.

"…What do you want, Rosi?"

"M-Mama was looking for you. Said you should greet the guests."

The frown deepened. The "guests" were kiss-ups and sycophants, leeching onto the family name. Trying to curry favor with their father at Rosi's birthday feast of all things. Pathetic.

"Hmm, tell her I'm coming."

xxx

(In ten billion worlds, Rosinante just nodded and hurried away. He did not much like being in his big brother's company when his face took on that light. It made Rosinante quiver somewhere in his soul.

He barely managed that final glance backwards at all. Doffy was smiling, a thumb pressed over the bird's head. It was a smile that never reached his eyes.

Rosinante turned the corner and ran).

xxx

"Doffy…" Rosi asked him softly, "why do you have that bird?"

Doflamingo looked down. The thing was fighting for breath, tiny heart drumming against his fingertips.

"It's been a very bad bird," he said, "I need to punish it."

A distraught noise slipped past his brother. Rosi took a step forward.

"Father said hurting others is wrong."

Doflamingo rolled his eyes. Father. Several times already Doflamingo had had to openly defend him against the insipid gossip of the Celestial Dragons. He was too humble, they would say, too soft and ill-fitted for Mariejois. Just thinking about it summoned a ripple of annoyance within him.

"Father isn't here."

He applied more force, closing his hands until the fingers almost clasped and the bird began chirping in pain. Doflamingo's mouth twitched and something at the back of his mind shivered. Father isn't here…

"Stop it!"

Rosi's hands were around his wrists. They were clammy, despite the warmth of the day, and they were surprisingly strong. Strong enough to yank Doflamingo fully around. Rosi's face was white. He looked…scared? Doflamingo stared at him.

"Stop, Doffy," Rosi stammered, voice timid, "Please, i-it's just a bird. Come on, you're making Mama worry. Please, let it go."

The courtyard melted away. Time. Space. The slaves. Rosi had touched him, even though he knew Doflamingo didn't like to be touched. Not unless he initiated first. Not unless permission was granted.

Doflamingo looked at his brother and for a second was angry. Deeply angry. Crimson haze began trickling into the surroundings again.

"Doffy?"

The hands around his wrists tightened. They shook him, once but firm, and the haze began dispersing. His vision re-focused and rearranged into Rosi's face. It wore the same faint worry their parents would sometimes make at him when they thought he wasn't looking.

Usually, it bothered him, but the feeling wasn't coming this time. Doflamingo scowled, relaxing slightly.

"Why should I?"

Rosi obviously hadn't thought that far, because he faltered. There was something funny about watching his brother panic and grasp for a reason. Trying so hard for a stupid animal. Mysterious little Rosi who was just like Father.

Eventually though, his brother's eyes lit up. Doflamingo's brows furrowed at the serious, slightly reproachful expression he suddenly adopted, copied almost completely from their mother.

"You," Rosi declared, "still owe me a birthday present."

What.

"Huh? No I don't, fool. Father and Mother bought you plenty of presents already."

A whole mountain actually. He was quite sure there was an entire hall now dedicated solely for their past birthday presents. His brother shook his head.

"I don't care about those. I want one from you." He was speaking quickly, like he was half excited and half afraid of losing his nerve. "You're my big brother right? So you owe me a present. It only makes sense."

It didn't make sense at all. But Rosi was so sincere, like he whole-heartedly believed it. He was almost puffed up and Doflamingo tilted his head a little, amused. Something softened oddly in his chest and loosened like a knot.

"And so you'll ask me to let the bird go then, Rosi?" he said, "Is that my gift to you?"

Surprise flashed over his brother's face, bared open for the world. Then he nodded eagerly and Doflamingo thought about how hopeless he was.

The little hands were looser on his wrists now, one falling completely away, while the other curled against his sleeve. He knelt into the grass beside him.

"Yes, Doffy," his brother said, "It would make me so happy. Please. Can't you...can't you do this for me?"

xxx

(In ten billion worlds, Doflamingo could not.

He crushed the bird, snapping its spine and neck instantly, and confirmed that yes, they sounded remarkably like toothpicks.

Rosi cried out, eyes beading with tears and glittering like shattered glass. He ran for their mother and Doflamingo was scolded, spending the next week and a half being avoided by his little brother. It took a lot of crooning and sweet-talking to lure him back. He had to apologize for the dumb bird, even if the words were hollow and weightless on his tongue.

Rosi believed him anyway. Maybe he was desperate to believe him. That year, their father announced they would be departing Mariejois to settle among the common folk.

The rest went to brimstone and fire. To a darkness Doflamingo would leap headfirst into without a thought. There would be many more little birds to come.

And he would never remember this day again, even though his brother would see it every single night for the rest of his life).

xxx

On Rosi's sixth birthday, Doflamingo wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders, accepting the sudden and rather clumsy hug. Rosi was beaming and Doflamingo sighed. He settled a hand in the mess of wavy hair and smiled faintly back.

A bird soared towards the sky.

xxx

What could he say about the lower world?

Well, in the simplest of terms, it was educational.

In fact, as more time passed, it became abundantly apparent to Doflamingo just how much he had never known, residing behind Mariejois's crystalline gates. The realm below brimmed with sin and terror and lessons (lessons Lessons) to be learned.

And god, the things he had learned.

Like what it meant to be cold.

(The town burned it all. Their furniture and finery. Their silks and velvets and mountains of toys. What they could salvage they eventually burned themselves. Anything to keep that ramshackle hut warm. Anything to keep winter from seeping through the walls. Rosi shared a bed with him and they tucked their feet against each other. Doflamingo held his brother as close as he could. "You're freezing," Rosi would still say, hand pressed over his heart).

To be hungry.

(They found molded bread in the garbage, sometimes yellowed vegetables and if they were lucky, the occasional sliver of meat still hanging off the bone. The alleys behind restaurants were the best. Rosi hated going, afraid of the rats that lurked in the dumpsters. He clung to Doflamingo's arm, pressed up against his spine. He got in the way and so Doflamingo skewered the biggest, fattest rat of them all and made Rosi eat it. Squashed the fear right into a stain. They ate rats a lot more after that. Two birds and one stone).

To hurt.

(Mother wilted and died like a flower. So quickly. Not even a year. It was the filth of this place, the thirst and pain, which killed her. But she still smiled when she went, stroking his hand. She never did blame Father, even though it was all his fault. Rosi cried for three days straight. There were times after, when he would simply stop moving, even during their scavenges for food. He would freeze up where he was, fists clutched in his grubby shirt and convulse with unwept tears. Doflamingo would get a savage urge then to strike him. Leave him. He shoved it down. He would never after all. Never ever ever).

To hate.

(The only burns that hurt, after the night they were found, were the rope burns. Doflamingo didn't know why this was so hilarious to him. Father rummaged in the debris for gauze. The two years had finally taught the man to collect some meager amount of medical supplies. He kept apologizing, kept telling Doflamingo not to touch the eye, kept asking if the swampy darkness of his vision had lifted yet. Doflamingo was sick of his apologies, his worthless concern, his shameful pleas for mercy. His father was a fool, such a GODDAMN FOOL-

Rosi's cheek pressed against his sleeve. He was burnt hair, burnt everything, and he nudged Doflamingo like he thought he was asleep. "Are you okay?" he whispered and must not have been comforted then even when Doflamingo nodded, because he would ask again several times later. The silence unnerved him. Doflamingo wondered how much more unnerved he'd be if he released the laugh he was desperately holding in. If he grabbed Rosi by the shoulders and swore all over again that he was going to kill them all. Every last person who had done this to them. No matter who they were).

What harsh lessons indeed.

xxx

The mob fell like string-less marionettes. Bodies thudded to the ground, heavy as dead meat, echoing in his ears. His vision rippled, darkness at his left and a dizzying, congealing red at his right.

KILL KILL ALL OF THEM ALL OF THEM MUST PAY

It pulsed with every pounding beat of his heart as he laid there, curled up among bodies. The skin on his face and neck was dry and ready to crack. His chest heaved, but the air wasn't enough and it didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered save for that black swirling vortex growing inside, cradled against his ten year old bones. It needed to get even. It was going to get even. Nothing else mattered.

"Doffy," a voice whispered through the dark. "you're heavy."

A hand pushed weakly against his chest and Doflamingo jolted as if punched. His little brother's dirt-smudged face stared up at him through the cage of his arms. Then its gaze slid past him and Rosi's tiny frame stiffened like a board.

"Wh-What happened? H-How did…"

Doflamingo released him, rolling off carefully. That's right. He remembered now. The mob had caught Rosi first in the square. They'd stolen something, a stupid little bag of plums, and the townspeople had gone after them with torches and crowbars.

Rosi had tripped (because he was always, always tripping) and then just huddled in the dirt in the fetal position. (Stop please! Father, Mama!) That tiny body, shaking and twitching.

A trapped bird in a hand.

(BROTHER, HELP ME!)

Doflamingo had thrown himself onto Rosi before his brain could even catch up. Of course, the beating became ten times worse when they realized he was the boy from before who had dropped an entire crowd. Doflamingo's teeth started grinding again. Bruises and cuts seared across his flesh now as the rush depleted, blood sticking down his hairline. And his brother chose then to try and touch him.

He jumped when Doflamingo grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward.

"What, Rosi?" he said, teeth clenched, "WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?"

His brother recoiled, tried to shy away like a dog that'd been kicked. For a blind second or two, he struggled, before going still so suddenly Doflamingo felt the shift in his weight.

Rosi looked at him.

And it was such a determined expression he wore, so tender and devoid of fear. Rosi...didn't often look at him that way anymore. The howling inferno in Doflamingo's head calmed to a simmer. His brother reached a hand up to his temple, fingers grazing over a clotted wound.

"It's okay," he said, "We're okay now."

Doflamingo didn't reply. He barely breathed. Rosi touched the hand that was still clenched around his collar and pried the fingers gently off. He gripped it in his smaller, clammier one and squeezed.

"Let's go home."

Then Doflamingo was getting tugged down the path towards the hut. He was too shocked to do anything but acquiesce.

They were out of sight of the square, before Rosi broke the silence again, so softly their footsteps nearly drowned out his voice.

"Thank you for saving me, Doffy."

Warmth pooled in Doflamingo's belly, made his chest hurt and ache at its center. He did not know how to put such a feeling into words, so he squeezed Rosi's hand back and said nothing.

xxx

Evil waited for them at the fork of the road. Rosinante would remember forever its voice.

xxx

"Behehe, what happened to you two?"

Instinct planted Doflamingo in front of his brother immediately. Rosi gasped, curling up a fistful of his shirt. Standing only twenty meters away was a large…man? Doflamingo narrowed his eyes, spreading one arm out to better cover his brother.

Looking again, it was definitely a man. A hideous one with two ropes of snot hanging plainly out his nose like decorations. The entire body in fact, seemed oddly undefined and his steps made slimy, squelching noises as he approached.

"Nene, which one of you was it?"

The man looked them over and Rosi froze up behind him, all traces of his earlier collection gone. Doflamingo tried not to let it make him nervous as well. The filthy peasant looked slow enough, perhaps they could make a run for it with enough distraction…

"Leave us alone," Doflamingo said, voice kept steady with rigid force, "Or you'll be sorry."

The thing grinned. "So it was you. Behehe, makes sense. You do have more of the vibe for the Conqueror's Haki."

He waved his hand and suddenly three more figures emerged from the shadows—two large ones as big as the man, and a child around Doflamingo's own age, all introduced one by one: Diamante, Pica, Vergo.

"And I'm Trebol." The man grinned, revealing large rotting teeth.

Doflamingo grimaced. Rosi's sweat-slicked hand had made its way to his wrist and was squeezing the life out of it.

"I don't care. Keep away from us. We didn't do anything to you."

"Behehe, oh, but what we could do for you, young master." Doflamingo's brow quirked, surprised and, he supposed, faintly curious. There was a never-ending hunger in him these days for power (which had been his, all his, rightfully so from the very start) and the misery of life here had made him opportunistic. Rosi tugged on his arm. Doflamingo ignored him.

"What are you talking about? Explain."

"Brother, no!" Rosi whispered, "What are you doing? Let's get out of here!"

"Behehehe, of course. Shall we have a little chat then, us five?" Trebol's gaze oozed towards Rosi. "Privately, young master?"

Doflamingo preened at the title. He could hardly control himself. It had been two years since anyone had referred to him with a semblance of respect. Satisfying to know some humans still knew their place.

With his interest piqued and he moved to shake Rosi off. He couldn't speak to this lot further until his brother was off the streets. Didn't need the distraction of being concerned with his safety.

"Go ahead back," he said, "I'll follow shortly."

Rosi didn't let go.

"No." His hold on Doflamingo's arm grew tight and stubborn. "No, no, Doffy, you come with me. Let's go back together."

"It'll only be a minute. I just want to hear what they have to say."

Rosi shook his head, his eyes peered up at him from beneath his bangs and Doflamingo was taken aback by the blatant fear in them. Tears were shining at the corners of his eyes.

"What the—" Doflamingo turned around more fully, gathering his brother up. "Rosi, why are you crying—"

"Don't talk to them," Rosi said, grabbing him back, "Don't talk to him. I have a bad feeling." With his free hand, he rummaged in his pocket, producing the tattered bag of dried plums they had nearly gotten themselves killed over.

"Here, Doffy," he said, offering it with a shaky hand, "You can have this, okay? I-I'll give it to you. I'll do whatever you say from now on, just please…" He hiccuped and there was wet heat on Doflamingo's chest. The bag slipped from Rosi's fingers and would've fallen to the ground between them if Doflamingo hadn't caught it. Rosi didn't even seem to notice.

"Come with me, Doffy. Let's go home. Please do this for me."

Can't you do this for me?

Doflamingo stared in bewilderment, his little brother a trembling mess in his arms. It was...Rosi's birthday today, wasn't it? He'd never forgotten before, how had he forgotten?

"Oi, what's the hold up, kid?" the one named Diamante called out, "We don't have all day."

"Is everything alright?" Vergo murmured.

Power. A voice purred in Doflamingo's head, stalking through the floors of his mind. Vengeance. Restoration. You don't belong here. This world is beneath you. The sunset glinted off the surface of his shades. He made his decision. Wordlessly, Doflamingo pried Rosi's white-knuckled grip from his shirt and took a half step back. His brother whimpered, but didn't move to reach for him again, eyes on the ground. Doflamingo's nails dug into his palms.

He dropped the plums on Rosi's head.

"Sorry," he said, without turning around, "Not interested."

Then he took Rosi's hand and started limping down the trail. Rosi was so shocked that he had to be dragged for the first few feet, before he found his legs again. Doflamingo did not slow down for him. He didn't even look at him, keeping his eyes straight ahead as Trebol wailed after their shrinking silhouettes.

"Wait, young master, waaait! Nene, you want revenge don't you? For what all these people have done? I can give you the strength you crave, young master! I have all the power you need."

Doflamingo clenched his teeth. He had Rosi's hand in such a tight grip that it was probably painful, but he didn't let up—anchoring himself to the touch as Trebol went on and on with his offers and pledges, swearing he could obtain for him anything if it was not the darkness he wanted.

It was maddening to walk away. Doflamingo wanted vengeance like he wanted his place in the sun again. A fever-hot desire. Desperation so heavy and hopeless it was hardening into resentment. He was failing to choke down the temptation of turning around again before they were even out of earshot.

Rosi's free hand reached over, settling around his wrist.

"Doffy?" he whispered and Doflamingo choked it down.

"We're going," he hissed, "Don't look back."

xxx

That night, Rosi taped his bruised ribs with clumsy hands, feet kicking idly as they waited for their father to return from wherever he'd gone. Rosi insisted on splitting the bag of plums with him, even though Doflamingo said he could have it all. He was smiling very softly for the first time in two years, and kept it up no matter how Doflamingo groused at him.

"I'm glad you didn't go."

Doflamingo sighed. "How could I, huh? With you around. You'd probably get lost or trip on your way back to this shit-hole and knock yourself unconscious."

Rosi laughed, even though he hadn't been trying to be funny. Then he hugged him hard enough to hurt.

"You know I love you," he said and Doflamingo's mouth twitched a little. He brushed Rosi's hair out of his face. He told himself it was enough.

xxx

His eye pulsed in pain. Ebbing and flowing like the tide. Sometimes, he could ignore the low, endless throb and sometimes, he wanted to do nothing but scream.

His father wept as he gagged him on these bad days, holding him tight as Doflamingo tried to kick him away. Two weeks had passed since they'd almost been lynched like criminals, and the swirling darkness in the left half of his vision remained.

His father spoke optimistically, said to give it more time to heal and that it was a miracle the wound had not grown infected.

"If you hadn't moved us down here," Doflamingo rasped, nails digging into a nearby stool, "THEN NONE OF THIS SHIT WOULD'VE HAPPENED AT ALL!"

In a burst of rage, he threw the stool at his father, who gasped and fumbled to catch it before it smashed onto the ground. The mob was still wandering outside, hunting them like dogs with a scent. Doflamingo hardly cared. His chest heaved, vision blurring with tears.

"It's all your fault! ALL YOUR FAULT! Look at what you've done!"

His father's expression was crumpled. As if he wanted to reach out and hold him, but was restraining himself. Endless sorrow and heartbreak welled in his eyes, but there was something else now far worse. Something akin to acknowledgement. To acceptance. His father agreed with him.

"Son, I—"

"No, no, no!" Doflamingo slapped his father's hands back, nearly stumbling to the ground, "Don't touch me! I hate you! You took it all away. My power, my title, everything! How could you do this to me?"

There was no going back. No undoing what had been done. Mother was dead. He and Rosi were stuck here forever. All because of his father's stupidity.

I wish you would die. Doflamingo thought and then, "I WISH YOU WOULD DIE!"

The floorboards creaked as Rosi shuffled over, face pale and confused. His eyes slid from his brother to his father in mute fear. He was barely even there to Doflamingo.

For a long beat, the shack was silent save for the sound of Doflamingo's harsh panting. Then his father stood and headed for the door, shoulders slumped, steps echoing in the stillness, halting at the threshold.

"Doflamingo. Rosinante." He wore a small smile. His face was lined in tears. "I am sorry that you had to have a father like me."

And he was gone. Rosi hurried out the door after him, asking where he was going, if he was even coming back and Doflamingo turned to seethe at a wall.

What was the point of asking that man questions? He would never get the answers he wanted; never know why they were chased, why they were hated and beaten and blamed. His father couldn't give him answers.

He had never even had them himself.

xxx

Two days later, Doflamingo's father lay cooling in the early dawn. There was a bullet hole at the side of his head and not nearly so much blood as expected. Rosi fell onto his knees and sobbed, cradling the corpse. Doflamingo stood there and watched him.

He was waiting for…sorrow he supposed. Fear over their circumstances without an adult around. Something.

I WISH YOU WOULD DIE

A gun was lying a few feet from the body. Doflamingo picked it up.

You know this is your fault. A voice muttered in his head—a clinical observation.

The was an ornate thing, made of obsidian metal and sparkling gold plating. Expensive-looking and deadly. No smoke was curling from the muzzle, but the heat radiating from the barrel was palpable. Doflamingo was pensive.

Then he was angry.

Father had had a gun like this? What the hell had he been hiding it for? He could have fought back against the attackers. He could have protected Mother and Rosi. He could have shown them exactly what it meant to fuck with someone above their stations, but he didn't. He hadn't. All he did was run, like the foolish, spineless apologist he was and how dare he How DARE HE….

I have all the power you need.

Rosi didn't say anything when he wandered off. He probably hadn't even noticed and Doflamingo didn't try to draw attention to himself either. It was for the best. Rosi would've gotten in the way.

The sun was raising its head. Doflamingo slipped into the shadows of the alleys to escape the heat. Rot and garbage smothered the air there, but at least it covered the stench of blood.

xxx

Somehow, Trebol was incredibly easy to find. The rickety creaks of the abandoned warehouse echoed in Doflamingo's ears as he stood before the giant fawning man.

"Behehe, I knew you would come back."

"My brother and I are returning to our homeland," he said, "Give me the power that I require."

Another shivery cackle escaped Trebol. "As you wish, young master." He stood and oozed toward a small table, where a strange white fruit sat at the center.

"The Ito Ito no Mi," he said, offering it, "Eat this for the strength you seek, but remember it mustn't be shared. Devil fruit do not like to be shared. The consequences could be very ugly indeed."

Doflamingo regarded the fruit with some dubiousness, before taking it. As he moved, the light seeping in from the decayed rafters caught the length of the gun clasped to his waist, and Trebol clapped his hands in glee.

"I see you picked up my little present as well."

He froze, turning to the group of them. Vergo folded his hands behind his back, gaze hidden by his shades. Diamante and Pica were each smirking, ever so slightly.

"…What?"

"We took the liberty of gathering some intel on your family, young master," Vergo said softly, and Doflamingo resisted the urge to flinch, "It seems your father really made things hard for you. I wonder what Mariejois would require from you as repentance."

He stared at them.

Trebol giggle-snorted. "I wooondeeeer." Something clattered on the table. Trebol retracted his hand and a gleaming dagger lay in its place. Jeweled and as beautiful as the gun.

"There's an old custom around here," Diamante said, "That outcasts of a kingdom can regain entrance by offering the head of a traitor."

Doflamingo stared some more. It was not that he did not understand, but that he had understood far too well.

"You killed my father?"

"We gave you an option."

So they had. Doflamingo picked up the blade, running a thumb along the edge. He imagined it stained and wet. Imagined the weight of a head…of recompense sitting in his child hands. They would have to return to Mariejois on their knees, as if mortals making offerings to gods. As if being down in this world had cast over them an eternal shadow.

It wasn't suppose to be this way.

Look at what you've done

All your fault

I wish you would die

"What do I tell my brother?" Doflamingo asked, tonelessly.

Trebol's scoff was sharp through his locked teeth. "Better not to take him with you. Have him wait here and then if all goes well, come back for him. He's so small. So fragile. You wouldn't want him to get hurt, would you?"

It was true. Rosi was always so emotional. So…weak in the most inconvenient ways. Yet the thought of abandoning him was inconceivable. The obligation to protect his brother wrapped him tight as a chain. A sworn promise written into the marrow of his bones.

"He wouldn't want me to do this," Doflamingo mumbled and Trebol scoffed.

"If he were truly your brother, he would understand your choices. He would be grateful for your consideration of him and he would be waiting here for your return. Anything else is tantamount to betrayal. Don't you agree?"

Betrayal.

Doflamingo remembered Father and his vision leaked red again. He would come to despise that word with every seething fiber of his being.

"This is a horrible world," Trebol said, "And you are meant to bathe it with flames. All that matters now is your will. What do you say, little Donquixote?"

And maybe years down the line, a small piece of Doflamingo would like to think he hesitated.

xxx

He did not glance back when he set off for Mariejois. The clothes hanging from his frame were ripped and filthy, reeking and stiff with sweat and blood. The gun repeatedly knocked against his thigh.

His father's head was like an anchor in his hand. It left a red, dripping trail in his wake.

"Your fault," he muttered and huffed out a laugh, "It's all your fault. Everything. But you'll fix this now. I'll make sure of it."

Somewhere in the distance, Rosi was crying. He had not taken it well.

(Doffy, what are you doing? He's already dead, Rosi. Doffy, no, no, stop, STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, NO! I'M DOING THIS FOR US!)

Doflamingo remembered trying to reach out and wipe his tears, forgetting that his hands were dirty. He smeared blood across Rosi's cheeks, across his lips, and Rosi screamed.

His brother shoved him away and overbalanced, falling down at Doflamingo's feet. Then he just sat there, curled into a ball, sobbing and trembling as if naked in winter. He wouldn't look at him, no matter what Doflamingo said.

Your fault, father.

Your fault that we're in this hellhole. Your fault that mother's dead. Your fault that we're starving. Your fault that we're beaten and spat at and hated.

Your fault Rosi can't look at me.

His eye was a scorching white knot of pain. It was bleeding sluggishly again through the sloppy bandages and he wondered if a piece from the arrow remained lodged inside.

Your fault I can't look at me.

Someone giggled. It took him a very long second to realize it was himself. Rosi had stopped crying. Or maybe they were already too far away to hear each other anymore.

He did not glance back.

xxx

Mariejois banished him for good.

They made him watch as the Donquixote name was carved out of the temple walls, slashed from all the scriptures. They said it was worth less than dirt now, that it would forever be known as the lineage of traitors.

They wrinkled their noses at his scars and flapped their arms at his disheveled garb, rags no less similar to those of the slaves. They thought it amusing mostly, Doflamingo with his bleeding eye and dead father's head. They squealed with glee and suddenly resembled more hogs to be roasted than dragons.

They laughed and Doflamingo would never forget how they laughed.

But what could he do then, standing there as a thin, bruised and broken-boned boy, looking up at these so-called gods? Their wealth, their treasures, their dignity. Everything that was once his gonegoneGONE.

He fled when the guards came to chase him, passing through Mariejois's pearly gates for the final time. It was as if he was plummeting, down and down, into the pits of the world.

For a while, Doflamingo sat on a bluff to catch his breath, watching the North Blue wash up along the rocks of the Red Line. Ships dotted the crimson horizon. He had overheard talk that more and more Marines prowled the waters these days, trying to catch sight of Gold Roger's pirate sails.

He pondered dazedly the kind of power a man like Roger would have. To never worry about the next meal or bristle at every sound. To never fear death or be frightened of anyone ever again. To kill whomever he pleased.

Doflamingo looked at his father's head. The sagging, mottled flesh, the vague hint of a smile still faint on his stiff, rictus mouth. Disgust tightened his throat and he thought for a second he was going to suffocate under his own broiling hatred.

When he stood, it was to drop the thing into the sea for the fishes to have.

His arm stretched towards the frothing water, hovered there a short eternity. But he never did let go in the end.

A small face flashed across his mind, tear-streaked and nose dripping. Terror stark in the large brick-dust eyes.

Rosi.

Doflamingo buried the head on that bluff, clawing open the earth with his hands. He broke all his nails and mud stained the front of his shirt. Eventually, sweat-soaked, Doflamingo stood in front of the makeshift grave, chest heaving. Hollow.

He kept wondering if he was ever going to cry.

xxx

The shed was empty when Doflamingo returned.

He checked the little creek by the forest edge, the alleyways and garbage heaps. Their meager food supplies still sat in the cabinet and all the sheets were still made on the bed.

Panic threatened to swallow his mind and Doflamingo shoved it aside. He kept searching. He called out his little brother's name whenever he dared. The sun was setting again before he finally gave up. There was no blood, no sated mobs, no trace or sign that pointed to any fact at all except for one.

Rosi was gone.

Rosi was gone.

Doflamingo sat down blankly at the front of their hut and held his eye. It burned. He'd no idea how long he sat there, before the shadows trundled up to him, faces leering.

"Such disrespect," Diamante would say later at the warehouse, shaking his head, as if he truly found it all quite upsetting, "To not be here waiting for you. And after you were almost killed on his behalf too! How ungrateful."

Trebol rested his elbows on his chair, giggling and snorting again. "Behehe, yes, he didn't wait, did he? Not like us, right Doffy? We waited for you. We were here this whole time. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Doflamingo said faintly, "You were here this whole time."

His eye was numb now, graced every so often by a fuzzy, phantom-like ache. Vergo and Pica were standing over him. Trebol had advised that the bandaging be taken off completely, allowing the wound to breathe. The agony would make him strong. It would never let him forget his suffering.

With a gentle hand, Pica slid his glasses off. Doflamingo still stiffened, but if they noticed, they made no comment. Vergo peeled away the gauze slowly, one layer at a time.

Rosi, where did you go?

How could you leave?

"The tissue is damaged beyond repair," Vergo murmured, fingers brushing the socket. Pica's expression was open with surprise and Diamante whistled with pity. A mirror in hand, Trebol oozed forward, offering it to Doflamingo.

"Take a look, Doffy. Behehe, remember it well."

With thundering heart, Doflamingo took the mirror. A long jagged gash now spiraled through the middle of his left eye. The pupil was a cold and cloudy white, no longer the sky blue his mother had so loved.

Hideous. Repulsive. Broken.

And it was clear instantly to Doflamingo that he would never see out of it again.

He thought he could cry then, but the tears never came. It would be much, much later before he realized they had all dried up. That he had soaked every drop into these two godforsaken years of childhood and would never have another one fall again. Something like ice was coursing up and into his head, building like a ball of pressure.

Rosi, Rosi, I'm blind now.

They took away my eye.

It burns. It hurts.

It feels like I'm falling.

God, Rosi, you left me here.

You left me.

xxx

"Nene, in a way, Doffy, we were more loyal than your own family, weren't we?"

xxx

Something cracked for the first time.

Doflamingo laughed, head bowed, clutching his shirt. Veins popped in his fists and over his forehead. It took over a minute before he could finally control himself enough to stop. By then, Vergo, Diamante and Pica were staring at him, regarding him with something like awe.

Trebol rubbed his hands as if he were utterly enamored. His face stretched with the width of his grin.

Doflamingo grinned back with twice the amount of teeth.

"Yes, Trebol, more loyal than family."

He did not return to the hut that night.

xxx

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But on a gentle summer day, fated to age and memory, a boy had watched his brother release a bird.

It had ruffled its feathers. It had spread its wings. It had flown away.

And altered the history of their lives to all eternity.