Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Drake woke in a strange ship, in a bed that smelled of dust and linen detergent. There was a little girl sitting in the chair by his side- dark-haired and wide-eyed.

She smiled at him, bright but hesitant, and handed him a glass of water when his attempt at speech came out hoarse and croaking. “Hi! I’m Baby 5. Giolla said you’re part of our Family, now. That we rescued you from the Marines.”

Drake blinked at the ceiling, still feeling mostly numb inside. He wouldn’t call it ‘rescued’- not that he was going to say that aloud.

He remembered how he’d gotten here- or, part of it, at least. He’d been on the Marine ship- finally free, finally away from pops- when the ship had suddenly listed, a sense of dread taking firm hold in his gut.

The beast had gone quiet inside him, in a way he’d never known the apex predator to do, and he froze, even as the Marines around him sprang into action.

He’d been alone in the medbay when the door flung open, and an enormous shadow, backlit by flames, hunched through the frame. His hackles raised instinctively, teeth baring and growing sharp in a warning to the threat that entered the room, even as he shrank back from the sense of danger-threat-menace that radiated from the figure.

The man’s gaze- black lenses blood red in the fire- had caught on his fangs, on his claws, and that tight frown had pulled into a wide, terrifying smile. “Guess I’m not leaving empty handed, after all.”

Drake hadn’t fought him, his instincts blaring that this was a far more dangerous predator, his body freezing in fear, and the man had simply grabbed him up, tucked him bodily under his arm, and taken to the sky.

He’d watched as the Marine ship sank far below them, its burning sails collapsing, steaming, into the frigid waves, bodies of the Marines who’d helped him strewn about the deck, and finally passed out.

The Marines had been kind- they hadn’t had time to do much more than remove his shackles before they’d been attacked, but Drake had been reassured that he was safe. He didn’t think he was, anymore.

He traced the white banding his wrists, covering the scars there. A different kind of shackle, now.

The little girl- Baby 5, she said, and was that really her name?- watched him, fidgeting uncomfortably at his continued silence. “Sorry, I’m not very good at bandages yet. We had-“ her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, glancing away, “-another brother, who was a doctor. …He’s gone now, so I help out.”

The smile she attempted didn’t quite rise to its name, but he nodded. “You did a good job.” She instantly brightened at the praise, beaming at him, “Really? I tried my best! Lao G told me to stay with you til you were ready to join the others. I can help with anything you need!”

She did stay with him- only sat humming to herself, legs swinging in the overlarge chair, seemingly just waiting for him to need her. It was this strange anticipation- the unease of being watched- that made Drake get up finally, testing his limbs and pushing himself to stand.

It was time to face whatever strange new reality awaited him- whatever new life he’d just been born to, after his old life had ended, for the second time, on a burning island.

And it did turn out to be an exceedingly strange one. Drake wasn’t chained, here, or even restricted to a room. In fact, he was allowed to roam freely in a way that deeply unsettled him- they really didn’t consider him a prisoner, did they? Or at least, not one that posed any threat to them.

What did that mean, for him, if he wasn’t a prisoner? Did Baby 5 mean it, when she said he was one of them now? ‘Part of our Family’? Had he just been… unknowingly assimilated into this strange group?

His discomfort itself was discomfiting, as everyone around him seemed to embrace his presence with an overwhelming ease, as if they knew him.

The Family was certainly much kinder to him than pops had been- they laughed and joked, came far too close, patted and prodded and hugged like he’d been there for years.

It was only the beast inside that let Drake cling onto the feeling that this was wrong- it still held to that quiet unease it had fallen into that night on Minion, when the presence of a greater predator had loomed like nothing else ever had.

His instincts still whispered danger-threat-menace at every corner, even as the paranoia felt unfounded on the surface. These people were kind to him, the part of him that hadn't experienced such kindness in years almost begged- when was the last time he'd known a gentle touch, or a genuine smile? The dissonance tore at him.

But the children of the Family had seemingly attached themselves to him- Baby 5 still at his side as a sort of attendant and the other, Buffalo, following curiously.

And there was a toddler, as well- and how the beast growled within him, at the idea of such a small life surrounded by this miasma Drake sensed.

The child was abnormally small for his apparent three years, but that confusion was resolved when he spotted the webbed fingers and fangs. This, Drake knew how to deal with.

He let his mouth change, jaw shifting to accommodate the beast’s fangs, “I have sharp teeth, too.” The toddler squealed in glee at seeing them, reaching one tiny hand out to grasp at them- Drake allowed it, moving himself so Dellinger only touched the flat surfaces of his fangs. The toddler smiled widely, exposing a mouth filling up with teeth just as sharp.

Baby 5 giggled, “Wow, you match!” She passed the toddler into his arms, and he held Dellinger easily, tucking him into the crook of his arm. It had been so long since he’d held anyone this small, but it came back to him easily.

Dellinger giggled, grasping for one of Drake’s fingers, and scales erupted there in time to keep sharp teeth from puncturing skin. The toddler gnawed on the digit contentedly, settling against him, and was soon fast asleep.

Giolla hummed approvingly, “You’re very good with him.” Drake looked down at Dellinger, gently petting the child’s wispy blond hair, and murmured, “I had a baby sister.” “Had? Oh, dearie, I’m so sorry! What happened?” He determinedly kept a wall up between himself and the memories, reporting tonelessly, “Our home island burned- she and ma died.”

A manicured hand, nails like claws, settled on his back, rubbing what were supposed to be comfortable circles. But he felt the contact like a brand, carefully stilling to keep from flinching away.

Giolla cooed, “I understand- I lost my first family, too, dearie. But you’ve got a new family, now- we all take care of each other here. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

He’d been with the Family a week when he was called into the office of ‘the Master’- Doflamingo, the man Drake remembered as a giant flaming shadow and an invasive sort of chill in his soul.

Here, behind the desk of an office- ostentatious, gilded, but still so very normal in contrast to the demon Drake had seen on the Marine ship- the head of the Family welcomed him. “Dory. How are you settling in? I see you’ve taken well to our precious children.”

Drake’s mind raced, searching for the right answer- he couldn’t read Doflamingo, not like he could the lot of ragged drunks that had made up pops’ crew, and the man before him was genial and nonchalant, lounging like a big cat in a comfortable throne and waiting patiently for a response.

That sense of danger-threat-menace didn't hang around the other now- not a trace of it in his presence- but Drake knew what he'd sensed, knew he hadn't been imagining it. He had to keep the dangerous man happy, had to play the part.

Doflamingo called him ‘Dory’, just like pops and the crew had- he must’ve heard it, that day. All of them had been calling him 'Dory', he only now realized. That diminutive nickname he'd long grown out of, that belonged to a family long dead, a version of himself long dead with them.

It gave him a clue, at least- he could be Dory, if that was what he had to do. “I’m… alright, sir. I’m good with kids. This is… better than before.” Was it?, his mind whispered. At least with pops' crew, he knew the score, knew how to avoid the landmines.

The giant man caught his chin, thumb swiping over the crossed scars there, “Did your father give you these?” Drake shook his head, “No. I did.”

That large hand went to his wrists instead, stroking gently over the wounds there, examining the gnarled flesh. “But he gave you these.” “Yes.” “And I freed you from them- from him.”

Drake’s mind rebelled- no, that had been the crow man Doflamingo’s brother who had freed him, told him to run- but he nodded. “Thank you, sir.” The man ruffled his hair almost lovingly, “No need for thanks- we’re family now, hm? And family takes care of each other.

“Speaking of…” Doflamingo smiled widely, far too many teeth showing- Drake’s instincts registered it as a threat display, and his head dipped to his chest, protecting his throat.

A box was slid across the desk towards him, the man’s voice oily and smooth, “A gift. So you know you belong with us.” Drake opened it slowly, stared emotionlessly at the items inside- a leather collar, spiked with iron, and wrist cuffs of the same.

‘To them’, he corrected in his mind, ‘I belong to them.’

But Drake was nothing if not practical, and he knew what displaying any of what he felt would cause, so he obediently put on his new shackles with not even a single tremor in his hands.

And he thanked Doflamingo for them.

Chapter Text

Drake hated how much the cuffs were a genuine comfort to him. They hid the ugly, torn-up and healed-wrong flesh of his wrists- no doubt why Doflamingo had had the idea to begin with.

He wasn’t sure if the man himself perceived it as kindness or as ownership- Doflamingo was still, infuriatingly, difficult to get a read on. Drake suspected both.

But even outside of the wounds, Drake had lived in shackles for seven years- his skin had missed the heavy weight of burden, of restraint, around his wrists.

Because the cuffs, although they had meant pain and weakness, had also meant safety- they had meant that the beast was dormant, that it couldn’t take control and tear him open again, that he wouldn’t wake up surrounded by bloody, senseless carnage again.

Even with the loss of the seastone holding him, he hadn’t had any problems with the beast trying to assert itself- not with the deadly conquering presence that was Doflamingo looming in his mind- and it was a regretfully blessed respite. For the first time in seven years, he was in full control of the body he was born to.

And somehow, what that said about the man who'd quieted the beast scared Drake all the more.

He was starting to understand Doflamingo, he thought- the man collected shattered people, people he could build back up into loyal, useful tools.

People like Baby 5, whose fear of abandonment was crippling, who molded herself into anything others wanted her to be, just for the sake of being needed.

The pattern grew stronger the more he learned- Giolla’s family had been lost to a freak accident, her mothering instinct stifled and desperate ever since; Buffalo’s family had sold him as manual labor, thought him only good for his physical strength and endurance; Dellinger was found seemingly abandoned, the orphanage unwilling to take in a Fishman infant.

And now Drake himself- an orphaned beast, directionless and purposeless, to be leashed and set on enemies. All of them, lost and broken and collected for Doflamingo to make what he wished of them.

Still, they were kind to him, and he could almost trick himself into thinking he was happy. His life was more normal than it had been in seven years- the simple joys and frustrations of everyday life he’d only gotten to witness on the faces of people who didn’t live in shackles, tethered to a beast.

He didn’t live in fear anymore- or at least, no imminent fear- and when people shouted at him, it wasn’t in anger.

“Dory, help!” Like that- Dellinger was wailing, Baby 5 near tears herself with frustration. “Hey, Delly- it’s alright, I got you.” He hefted the toddler up high, tossing him gently and catching him. Instantly, the tears seemed to stop, Dellinger squealing with laughter.

Baby 5 sniffled, shoulders dropping in relief, “I dunno why he likes you best- but you’re the only one who can calm him down when he’s crying.”

Drake had unquestionably become Dellinger’s favorite, and thus was given the responsibility of being the toddler’s primary caretaker- Giolla was jealous for a while, but justified it as ‘a bond between primal instincts’.

Drake had accepted the role eagerly, had taken very easily to the younger children of the Family- he was a big brother again, like he always should have been.

It was one comfort he could take and know was real. If all else was a facade, at least the children loved him.

The children of the Family were an entirely separate entity, a sub-family of their own within the larger group, and now Drake was the eldest of this party, the one the others looked to.

They told him secrets, in hushed tones- taught him what he needed to know, the unspoken rules the children of the Family lived by. Never laugh at Pica, never be alone with Trebol, and never, ever mention the empty Heart Seat.

That was how he had first learned about the people they’d lost the same day they gained him. The lost brother Baby 5 had mentioned, and the Master’s younger brother who had been ‘always so funny’- the crow man who had saved him that day, the one the kids called ‘Cora-san’ with a quiet sort of wistful reverence, and only ever spoke of out of earshot of the adults.

Drake hadn’t known of the other boy before this- he knew ‘Cora-san’ was dead, had died that day, but another boy… that was news to him. Had this other boy- ‘Law’, the lost brother- been who Doflamingo had raided the battleship in search of? He hadn’t been looking for Drake, certainly- only a consolation prize, when his hunt came up empty.

The other boy had escaped, at least- it was a cold sort of comfort, but a comfort all the same. It meant Drake’s own capture hadn’t been for nothing.

Although Buffalo didn’t seem to believe that would last long, apparently. It was innocuous, easy to miss, but the sense of anticipation was unmistakable when he spoke. “It’s nice to have a brother close to my age again.”

Drake blinked- Gladius and he were the same age, though. He said so, and Buffalo stuck his tongue out, shook his head, “But Gladius acts like such an old man- he never played with us. Law was so grumpy and mean, but at least he played with us. I’ve been collecting all the new Sora comics for him, so we can keep reading them together.”

He was excited now, eyes bright. Drake only grew puzzled- hadn’t they just finished telling him the other boy was lost to the Family?

“He’ll come back.” The boy seemed very sure about that, and Drake tilted his head in question. Buffalo only nodded firmly, “‘Cause we’re his Family- he’ll come back to us. Master said so.” Drake remained silent.

It was something he’d noticed about the Family- there was no questioning the Master, in anything at all- even something trivial like the evening meal was subject to his choice and his alone. Doflamingo was a fickle man, in daily life, and the others of the Family lived in utter devotion to him, putting their own needs second to his whims.

It was because he was a god, Gladius had told him in confidence, a giddy sort of zealotry shining in his usually stoic eyes- a god who had descended from the heavens to live amongst them and bring the new world into being. He wasn’t subject to the same rules as the mere humans he was surrounded by.

Drake took all this in, and thanked his new ‘twin’ for teaching him. This went much deeper than he thought, and he had no idea how to process it all.

Was this… his life, now? To serve at the whim of a capricious god, alongside these worshippers in their strange, makeshift family? It was a terrifying thought, having to keep up the mask of ‘Dory’- the agreeable, obedient pet Doflamingo had taken in- for his entire life.

But he saw no way out- the collar and the cuffs he wore, the possessive, clinging sort of love of the Family, all told him that Doflamingo did not readily let go of those he’d claimed.

Drake dedicated his time to the children of the Family- it was them that kept him from succumbing to madness in the midst of this farce the Family called life. He played with them, listened to their stories and soothed their insecurities, and held Dellinger tight, as if he could shield the toddler from Doflamingo’s influence by himself.

But he couldn’t simply avoid interacting with the adults, although he managed to hide the dread and unease they brought him, even if he had to steel himself like he was going into battle for something as simple as putting Dellinger down for a nap.

He stopped outside Giolla’s room, took a deep breath, then forged on, sliding the door open. He stilled, instincts freezing him in his tracks- Giolla was inside, she wasn’t supposed to be there at this time of day, he’d made sure of it. And not only that, there was someone else in the room. A stranger. A child?

But… no, that wasn’t it. The figure appeared painted onto thin air, a flat sort of impressionist realism that made his brain itch with strangeness. It smiled, laughed silently, and Giolla seemed to simply observe it, transfixed.

As he watched, it began to drip, paint sliding down its frame and melting together, before it vanished entirely. The woman on the bed remained still as stone, but he could smell the salt all the same.

He retreated carefully, waited in the hall in silent panic for several minutes, and made a show of knocking on the door, opening it slowly- there was no need for her to know what he’d seen. “Giolla? Ma’am?”

The woman startled, wiping her face before turning to him. He had to credit her- she had recovered quickly. Although her eyes were red and puffy, the smile she managed was a perfect mask.

She chuckled, only the slightest fray in her voice, “I still can’t get any of you kids to call me ‘mom’?” He blinked, tried to force away the flush, “Ah- n-no, ma’am. Sorry. I was just…” He gestured to Dellinger, asleep and drooling on his shoulder- the toddler still slept in Giolla’s room, where Buffalo’s snoring couldn’t wake him.

She cooed, “Of course, nap time for Dellykins! What a perfect little angel he is.” Drake huffed, “And a perfect little devil if he doesn’t get his nap.” He settled Dellinger in carefully, letting Giolla fuss with the blanket until it was arranged to her satisfaction.

They both stood, silently watching the toddler sleep for a moment, before Giolla sighed, something soft and disbelieving, “Such precious children I’ve been blessed with.”

Her hand suddenly grasped his, claw-like nails pressing into his forearm with a fierce strength. “Protect them- please. If there comes a day we can’t.” He met her eyes solidly, saw the unspoken fear there- she’d lost her family before, just like he had. She knew that helpless desperation, just like he did. “I will.”

That, at least, he could promise.

Chapter Text

Drake settled in as best he could- he’d always been good at adapting to his conditions quickly, and that skill served him now, as he blended in to this lion’s den he’d been dropped into.

And he fell into an easy sort of routine- too easily, almost, to the point he started finding it difficult to separate himself from them, in his mind.

Then things changed, when Monet and Sugar came to them. They were like him- pathetic, filthy wretches Doflamingo saw use in and added to his collection.

Drake watched as the sisters were accepted as easily as he had been, that oppressive sort of exuberant affection the most sickly sweet entrapment.

Monet was kind, close to his own age but a frail thing, frame skinny and light- he looked at her and saw bird bones, fragile and hollow, and treated her delicately, carrying her when her legs wouldn’t.

But she had a fierceness to her as well, a banshee sort of protective nature that had first extended only to her sister but soon grew to envelop the entire Family. She cared for them, and them only.

And Sugar… there was something wrong with her. She was like him, in that her body didn’t reflect her age- but where Drake was stunted from years of malnutrition, Sugar’s body was forever halted in growth due to her powers.

He hadn’t asked how old she really was, but he knew it was older than him. The way she watched everything- dull eyes, as if bored with the world- the beast in him said she was terribly old.

Something about her made Drake’s instincts blare alarms at him, and it was that same thing, he knew, that gave Doflamingo the satisfied, anticipatory grin he’d been wearing since the sisters became part of the Family.

He wasn’t sure what the Master had planned, but they left the North for the Grand Line not long after.

Back when pops was a Marine, before home had burned and their family along with it, he’d promised Drake he’d get to sail the world one day, visit the far-off places pops told fantastic stories about, with giants and talking animals and people with wings.

He’d held to that dream as he grew, but had expected to fulfill it as a Marine, following in his father’s footsteps. Helping people, saving them. He didn’t expect it to be like this.

The Family didn’t meander along the Grand Line like Drake wanted to, stopping to take in the sights and discover the unique characteristics of each island. The Master pushed along like it was a race, like he had a destination in mind.

And it turned out that he did. They came at last to an island called Dressrosa, and Doflamingo’s ever-present grin grew gleeful and cruel as he announced, “Our new home.”

Something in the way he said it made Drake still, hold back a shudder. That was the voice of someone who knew something others didn’t, and he knew very well what Doflamingo did with his secrets.

Drake spent the night he’d later call the Puppet Coup in a state of frozen, dissociated panic. The moment he’d seen the King of Dressrosa and his soldiers cutting down their own people, he knew exactly what had been done to them.

It all looked so unnatural- limbs swinging with no attention paid to weight or muscle, like awful marionettes strung up to act out Doflamingo’s triumph, puppets in a preordained show.

This was what had happened to pops’ crew- he’d seen them, watched Lock and Stock kill each other right in front of him, Lock’s body still moving even after his eyes had gone dull in death.

Drake had been inches from the same happening to him, the cage coming down close enough behind him to pin the edge of his coat in its descent.

It had been Cora-san’s attack on pops’ base that had saved him from that fate, and it had also been the same man who had unwittingly condemned him to this one.

The princess of the kingdom was pushed towards him, with an instruction to watch her. His hand closed around her shoulder, mind unconsciously accepting the order while he tried futilely to stitch his soul back to his body.

The girl trembled in his shadow, fear and confusion emanating from her, but her eyes were sharp. He felt the searching tendrils of her power, felt them touch his presence with a sensation like lightning, forcing him back to reality.

She recoiled immediately, a gasp caught in her throat. He sighed- so she’d seen the beast, then. The monster he was. There went any chance of getting the girl to trust him so he could help her.

He kept his expression still, grip loose but unyielding on her arm. “It’s best you return to bed, miss.” She shouldn’t have to see this, have to see what her kingdom, her father, had become- and he’d rather be a jailer than a murderer.

He could tell the princess still wanted to fight him, to scream and shout, but she tested his grasp and decided otherwise. He picked up Dellinger in one arm, flatly muttered something like ‘past his bed time’, and herded the princess away.

Somehow, he managed to keep himself from breaking down until the moment the door closed, before he slid to the floor, clutched the sleeping Dellinger close, and trembled.

Dressrosa marked a strange sort of turning point, just like Minion had. Before, the Family had been some strange amalgam of pirate crew and criminal gang, but now… Doflamingo was a king, a Warlord, with a country looking up to him and an army at his disposal.

The Marines could no longer save him, for they too served Doflamingo now.

As the days continued and the transition of power was completed, Drake continued to guard Princess Viola. She was refusing to leave her room, or even to eat in her grief- Drake’s forever-empty stomach ached sympathetically.

But this purgatory couldn’t last forever- the Master’s patience was wearing thin for Viola, and whatever fate awaited her if she continued to rebel would not be a good one.

Eventually, he came to a decision- it was risky, trusting her like this, but it was the only way.

“Doflamingo is not a merciful Master, princess. But he is a fair one, to those who prove their worth. You may be able to bargain for favors, like your father’s safety.” He hated this, hated what he was proposing, hated himself for proposing it.

But it was a foregone conclusion- Doflamingo had kept Viola because he saw her as useful, and he would claim her as his own, just as he had Drake. The princess had no choice.

But this way, perhaps she could save her father as well, and earn herself more favorable conditions. A gilded cage, kinder shackles, just like the ones Drake lived in. She only had to play the part.

The princess looked him over warily, sharp eyes puzzled. She spoke only one question, “What are you?”

A good question. Drake couldn’t help wondering what she saw in him now. Was it the beast, the monstrous pet of the Family? Or was it, perhaps, something else? The person he’d buried deep inside?

He could only hope that her all-seeing eye would let her see what he couldn’t say.

“I am the beast of the Family.” Just as you are now its scout. “I will do what the Family asks of me.” As must you, if you wish to survive long enough to save your country. “I simply dislike needless bloodshed.” Which is what would happen if you acted against him now. Please hear me.

She hummed finally, seeming to steel herself, posture regaining a regal sort of grace, and he knew he’d been understood. “Take me to your master, then. I would answer his generous offer.”

And so the Family gained another member, and its newest interloper- there were two of them now, aware of each other and comforted, if only slightly, by not being alone in this.

And still unable to accomplish more than crumbs of good against the steady march of Doflamingo’s power.

Drake was no fool- he knew where the toys were coming from, he knew that the population of Dressrosa continued to drop, even though his own memory told him otherwise. It was maddening, knowing that his own mind was being manipulated day by day.

So he took to keeping a notebook, writing down everything- even if he couldn’t trust his own thoughts, he could trust what he’d written.

He recorded everything, back to his very first memories on Oykot, the tall grasses and the furs of antlered beasts and the caves filled with his peoples’ handprints, the warmth of their home and the well-trod paths their people took following the herds every year and the small weight of his baby sister in a sling on his back.

If he lost that, if he lost ma and Linny and the person pops had been before he’d changed… there would be no Drake, any longer. Only Dory, the loyal beast of the Family.

It was a very specific kind of hell Drake lived in, being part of a conquering force welcomed as saviors. False, he knew- all of it a facade. The people loved them only because they didn’t know, they didn’t know it was all a setup, all a cruel farce.

But Drake knew- he made it his purpose to know everything that went on, to combat in secret the erasure that threatened the very reality of Dressrosa. No matter what happened, how many people were forgotten in the darkness underneath the country… Drake would know.

He knew of the dwarves, as well, but could not acknowledge them, due to his status. Instead, he left useful things where they could be easily stolen, copying notes and information in an easily-decipherable code.

It didn’t take long for his suspicions to bear fruit- the information he ‘lost’ was being passed along to the toys, used to bolster their burgeoning rebellion. He could help them, like this- keep them from being crushed entirely, if nothing else.

But he was ultimately helpless, in the face of Doflamingo’s strength and manipulation, of Sugar’s powers.

What was he supposed to do, trapped like this and bearing such a burden? What could he do?

Chapter Text

It was two years after the Family conquered Dressrosa that Drake’s sign came, in the form of a newspaper article. His eyes widened at the contents, and he forced himself to breathe steadily, ensuring his hand never crumpled the paper in its iron grip.

He made for the Master’s office, set the page down firmly on Doflamingo’s desk. “Your lost boy has reappeared, in the North. He bears the marks of his fated seat.”

Drake seethed inwardly, glaring down at the smirking face in the bounty poster.

The fool, the damn fool. He’d escaped, he’d gotten away- why was he taunting Doflamingo like this, almost begging the man to return and claim what he’d lost? He was lucky Drake had seen the article first.

He knelt before Doflamingo, a knight before his lord, a beast before his master, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m a hunter. I’m not meant for sitting still, living in one place. Let me hunt.”

Doflamingo laughed, low and dark, and his large hand petted Drake’s hair. “I always thought it was fortuitous, that we found you the same day we lost my brother and his boy. Now I see- it was fated to happen. My hunter, my tracker. Meant to bring our lost sheep back to the fold. Go, Dory. Bring me back my heart.”

Drake’s departure was no secret among the Family, although the specific purpose of his mission was, and he was sent off with tearful goodbyes and far too many hugs. Dellinger and Baby 5 clung to him, and Drake felt genuine remorse at leaving them behind, even temporarily.

Eventually, Buffalo managed to coax them away, and Drake clapped a hand on his shoulder, held his gaze seriously, “You have a very important job now. The others are adults- they can protect themselves. But Dellinger and Baby 5… that’s what we’re here for. Our priority is always going to be to protect them, above all else. Take care of them, while I’m gone.”

Buffalo nodded solidly, taking on the responsibility with all the gravity of a soldier. He was incredibly loyal, to the point of putting aside all else in favor of his faith in those he cared for- an admirable quality, if not turned so blindly to the whims of a man like Doflamingo. Drake still hoped he could change that, with time.

Viola met his eyes briefly from the back of the crowd, that stalwart hardness permanent now. He left her alone in the lion’s den now, but she knew what she had to do in his absence. If Drake’s plan worked… perhaps this long nightmare could be ended.

He left Dressrosa then, outfitted with a small ship- no crew, he would make one himself of men that were loyal to him and not watching him for Doflamingo- and returned to the North, from whence he’d been stolen.

It was the closest he’d gotten to freedom since he was twelve- out on the open seas alone, without chains or an authority figure’s careful eye on him. He felt the weight of the collar around his neck, the cuffs around his wrists, and knew very well how far he truly was from freedom. But he could enjoy the facade of it, for a moment.

He sighed, unfolded the paper from his pocket. There was no way Drake couldn’t identify the other- even besides having been told of the brother who’d been lost to them, Drake knew exactly which fruit pops had gotten his hands on five years ago, and he could recognize its powers in use. The fresh new pirate, young and arrogant in his first bounty poster, was the other boy from that day on Minion.

A sort of hope sparked in Drake, and he did his best to ignore it- hope was a risk he couldn’t afford.

Still… there was one person out there that knew him, perhaps. Knew who he was, who he’d been before the Family. Shared something with him, even if it was only a fate entwined by chance. It meant more than he could say.

---

Law instinctively reached for the denden when it murmured its tone, before his hand stilled to rest on its shell. This wasn’t the intercom, so it wasn’t any of his crew, and there was no one else who would have reason or means to call him- not now. So who…?

He hesitated a moment longer, then picked up the receiver- only one way to find out.

He didn’t speak any greeting, but the caller didn’t hesitate, “Good evening, Trafalgar. You’re trying to take down the Family, I’ve heard? I’ve got useful information.”

Law froze, mind suddenly racing. The voice was modulated, the denden’s expression unreadable- whoever this was, they were deliberately concealing their identity. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, hackles raised at any mention of the Family, “Who are you?” “Call me Fanger.” “How do I know you know anything of the Family? Better yet, how do you know of me?”

‘Fanger’ returned casually, “They talk about you sometimes- mostly the kids. A brother, who’s gone away. Someone they miss.” His breath caught in his throat, something he couldn’t define suddenly aching in him, and the voice continued, “Dellinger is eight now- a cute little kid, stronger than ten men. And Baby 5 is so skilled, the best weapons master I’ve ever seen, but that complex of hers means we’re beating off suitors with a stick. Buffalo is incredibly loyal, to the point he sometimes doesn’t think first, and-”

“Stop.” Law gritted his teeth, hand fisting on his desk. He didn’t want to know- didn’t want to know what the other kids were doing, after he’d gone. It made him feel things, like he cared for them, and he didn’t- he couldn’t.

“Alright, let’s say I believe you. What do you want?” He couldn’t decipher the tone of the voice, not with the modulation turning it flat and monotonous. “The same thing you do. Doflamingo’s downfall. I can’t act against him, but you can.

“There’s a shipment of weapons coming into Port Sight next week, under the guise of a cloth merchant from Notice. If you can destroy it without being discovered, you’ll prevent a bloody coup. Good luck.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond before the line cut, the receiver going quiet as suddenly as it had rang, only a minute before. And yet it had changed everything.

He sat there long after the call ended, staring blankly at the denden, mind running furious circles around this new development, before bursting into motion.

In the days after, Law’s crew would no doubt say he was obsessed- he would say it was perfectly normal and, in fact, the intelligent thing to do, to try and find everything he could on the mystery person claiming to give him intel on the Family. The cork board and colored strings were simply the easiest way to keep track of information, that’s all.

The profile he’d built was infuriatingly scarce- the Family was not a well-published organization, and most news it saw centered only on Doflamingo.

Not like he could risk infiltrating Dressrosa, trespassing on Joker’s own territory, either. So all he had was this.

How had this person gotten his personal denden code? He didn’t give that out to just anyone. And Port Sight was only days away- they must know, somehow, that he was close enough to make it in time.

This stranger- ‘Fanger’, and what the hell did that mean?- knew a great deal about him and his movements, and it made something in him feel jumpy and watched, instinctively distrustful.

Still, he couldn’t miss out on a chance to damage Joker’s operations- nor could he let another country fall to the bastard’s machinations.

But he wasn’t going in unprepared- the crew docked at the port days early, and he temporarily stole the dockmaster’s planner, confirming that a merchant ship from Notice with a manifest of textiles was due in the following days. Promising, but not certain. But he was committed now- if it turned out to be a trap… he’d just have to deal with it.

The raid at Port Sight proceeded without issue, thankfully- and an underwater vessel meant they went undetected, just as Fanger had specified. The new additions to their own armory, and the logbook Law had stolen from the ship that detailed dealings with Joker’s people, meant the information had been solid- this ship had indeed been running weapons for Doflamingo.

Fanger had been telling the truth, then- Law really did have an inside source on the Family, giving him the intel he’d so desperately needed.

But who the hell was Fanger? The information they gave, the way they talked about the kids like they knew them, meant they had to be high up in the Family. An officer, even.

The realization made his blood run cold- he knew exactly how dangerous it was to be a spy inside the Family, and here was this person, doing the exact same thing as Cora-san had.

He held back a shiver, a nonexistent cold wind passing across him, and the grief he’d carried since that day roared within him, indignant and fierce, before settling into a solid determination.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again- he wasn’t going to let Fanger die, as well.

Chapter Text

A year passed like this- every month or so, Law received a call, that modulated voice passing along information, new ways for him to strike at Doflamingo’s operations. He treated them cautiously, researching each carefully before taking action, but thus far, every tip Fanger gave had proven true.

His cork board remained sparse, however, more increasingly frustrated questions than anything else. Still, Law occasionally prolonged the conversations, hoping to pry something, anything, out of Fanger to learn their identity.

Thus far, the only topic Fanger was willing to speak further on was the kids- their growth and accomplishments. There was a sort of pride and affection in the modulated voice- only more proof of his informant’s position within the Family.

“Do they really still expect me to return?” “Yes. The Master assured them you would return some day, and you know how devoutly they believe him. Buffalo has a collection of those comics you two would read together, and Baby 5 has kept your medical books.” The breath stopped in his chest for a moment, something seizing and drawing tight within him, twitching as if struck.

He had never thought much about what had been left behind when Cora-san had stolen him away- had tried not to think about it- but the idea of his things being kept, preserved, treasured, in anticipation of a return that would never come, stung deep in his lungs.

It only hardened his resolve- he would never return to the Family, not while his heart still beat.

---

Drake returned to Dressrosa months after he’d left, summoned by the Master to report. Doflamingo sat in the shadow cast between two windows, his form nearly hidden. His presence was oppressive, and Drake’s mouth went dry under the weight of it.

“I’m unused to waiting for results, from you. Tell me, Dory- what have you been spending all this time doing?” He gathered himself carefully, “Researching, Master. I’ve been learning him, setting my traps.”

He looked up, met the harsh glare of Doflamingo’s impenetrable shades, “I could bring him to you, broken and defeated. But that isn’t what you really want, is it, Master? You want him willing, eager to return to your side- the strong right hand you’d been cultivating so carefully. You want your Heart seat filled once more.”

Doflamingo’s grin grew terribly wide and cruel, all sense of anger instantly dissipated. “Fufufu, my skilled hunter. You’re right. I miss my lost Heart, and I want him safe at my side.” The exaggerated wistfulness in his voice was at odds with his gleeful cackle, the sense of sadistic pleasure that grew in his presence.

“You’ve proven yourself worthy of protecting my Heart, Dory. I’ve decided. Once he’s returned to us, I’ll make you his right hand. The sword of my Heart.”

Oh, the cruelty of that- making Drake stand at the side of the man he’d traded fates with. Making him drag another poor soul back to the fold, and trap him there. Doflamingo must know what that would do to him.

He nodded solidly, bowing low, “Such a lofty post, Master. As always, it is my honor to serve.”

Once dismissed, he walked the streets of Dressrosa absently, mind whirling with possibilities and risks he had to account for.

Then there was a quick tug at his jacket, the sensation of something clambering up his back, before Dellinger was seated atop his shoulders, leaning over his head. The grim frown finally dispersed, thoughts of plans and concerns receding for now. “Hey there, Delly.” He grinned, sharp teeth exposed.

The boy’s upside down pout was a deadly one, nose only inches from his own, “You didn’t come see me as soon as you got back!” “Sorry- I had to report urgently. How about shaved ice? You can tell me all about your colosseum exploits.”

That brightened Dellinger’s mood instantly, and the boy bounced giddily on Drake’s shoulders, already regaling him with stories of the gladiators and Diamante’s training. People on the streets smiled fondly as they passed, used to the antics of the Family, but Drake could feel the blank stares of the toys among them.

The palace wasn’t much better, as far as watchful eyes, but at least these weren’t hateful, even if he barely escaped Machvise’s welcoming hug with his life.

His room was quiet, at least. It had been maintained, and was even freshly dusted- Baby 5, no doubt. Drake tried to allow himself to relax, shoulders inching down from their tension, and set to cleaning his weapons.

He let his eyes flash blue for a moment, watching the shift in the flat of the blade- he looked like pops, like this. He sighed, blue melting away into molten amber once more, fading back into Dory.

It was easier to separate them, this way- Dory was the beast of the Family, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth (so that Dellinger didn't feel like he stuck out), and Drake was the person that had hidden himself deep beneath that facade, perhaps never to re-emerge.

“They like you.” He looked up from the mirror of his blade, met Baby 5’s eyes where she leaned on the doorframe. She nodded towards Hell Creek, including Flaming Cliffs in the motion. “Their last wielder wasn’t kind- to them, or to others- and they like you a lot better.”

He hummed, satisfied affirmation, and ran a thumb along the flat of the blade. Their former master had been a cruel pirate who hadn’t deserved such fine steel, or the mercy Drake had shown him. He’d sworn to them both when he’d taken them up, that he wouldn’t wield them for evil like that, and he was intent on keeping that vow.

Drake slid his blade away silently, raised an arm to beckon Baby 5 in for a hug, and she sank easily against him with a sigh. There was quiet for a long moment, her hands clutching at him, before she whispered, “The more you make yourself into a weapon, the better I can read you.”

She bit her lip, didn’t meet his suddenly wide eyes. “Just… don’t get killed, okay?” She wouldn’t say anything, then- his secret was safe.

What was a family but a giant cluster of secrets? They all kept secrets- Drake recognized the brand of cigarette she smoked, even though he’d only smelled it from one other person, that night on Minion. And her lipstick, as well, was a familiar shade- he was the only one who knew for sure where she had gotten it, who she had stolen it from all those years ago.

All of them were bound to the past, in one way or another. But there was one thing he’d long ensured- the children of the Family were loyal, above all else, to each other.

He tucked his chin over her head, pressed her smaller frame into his own comfortingly, “I’ll do my best.” He wouldn’t promise- he couldn’t promise that, and they both knew it.

---

The months and the calls and the raids continued on, becoming an eagerly awaited part of Law’s routine. Then he received a call that was different from all previous, in only one way. This was the first information Fanger had given him that couldn’t be independently verified- if he wanted to act upon it, he was going to have to trust his source.

He found that he did, surprisingly- his instincts, something deep in him that sounded like Cora-san’s lessons, told him Fanger was true. He paused, caught for a moment by the realization.

Fanger seemed to interpret his hesitation as doubt, and commiserated, “I get it. For all you know, I could be leading you into a trap.” He shook his head firmly, “I don’t believe that. And you don’t either.” “Oh?”

“All the leads you give me… they prioritize saving people. Freeing slaves, stopping weapons before they get into the hands of genocidal tyrants… That’s not the kind of person who’d be working for Joker in truth.”

Fanger was silent on the other end- he was right, then. He’d figured them out, this person who was risking everything to help him, to weaken Joker… he felt that familiar protective instinct stir in his gut, just as it did towards his own crew.

He would do what it took to save Fanger, as well- to free them from Doflamingo’s chains.

He spoke into the silence, aiming to give the other hope, “When I take him down… you’ll be free, too. I’ll ensure it.”

Fanger’s voice was the coldest he’d ever heard it, then. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” And the line went dead.

---

Drake set the receiver down carefully to not hurt the denden, and settled his forehead against the cool surface of his desk, taking deep, steady breaths until he was sure his claws had receded.

The laugh that escaped him was nothing but a mirthless huff. There were only two ways Drake could escape the Family- prison or death. He’d long accepted that fact. There was no path to true freedom, not for him. He couldn’t allow himself to hope. It would only make the pain worse later.

And certainly, he deserved no such lifeline from the other boy. 'You fool', he thought to himself once more. 'You don't know what I have to do to you. No one can save me, but especially not you.'

He pulled himself up, running a hand through his hair and sighing. He would have to make physical contact with the other soon- something big enough to make it into the papers, to show Doflamingo he was making real progress. He had work to do.

Chapter Text

Fanger mentioned nothing of the way their last call had ended, when the next one came. Still, there was something like dread in that modulated voice, although he could simply be imagining it.

“Your raids haven’t gone unnoticed. There’s an enforcer for the Family being sent after you- I can’t say much more than that, but be on guard. He’s a monster.”

The call ended, as usual with no farewell, and in the following silence, Law felt a chill run up his spine. For someone acquainted with Doflamingo to call another person a monster… this enforcer must be a real threat.

He was on high-alert in the days following, ever watchful for some representative of the Family to descend on them.

But when the enforcer came, it wasn’t a surprise attack in the dead of night, like he’d suspected. Instead, it was a man waiting patiently, sitting on a crate at the end of the dock.

They’d stopped at this island for regular restocking, separated to go about typical shore duties. So Law hadn’t recognized the threat until there was a sudden spike of presence, something that froze him in his tracks- he stopped still, waiting until his crew was out of sight. The other didn’t seem to want to involve them, as he’d let them pass without incident.

It was clear from the beginning the man wasn’t quite human- his teeth were deadly sharp, eyes gleaming a predatory yellow. There was a leather band around his neck, lined with metal spikes, and matching ones around both wrists, that completed the image of a fearsome beast of a man.

The man stood almost casually, tipped his head in greeting, “Afternoon, Trafalgar.” His eyes narrowed, “Have we met?” “Not as such, no. But we almost did.”

The man motioned towards the sigil on his leather coat, Doflamingo’s symbol worn proudly over the heart. “You know why I’m here.” “I do.”

Law attacked first, lunging forward with sword drawn- at the same time, he brought up boards from the dock, cutting off retreat. He crushed them in his Room, surrounding his opponent in a hailstorm of splinters.

The man easily sidestepped part of the dock collapsing under his feet, ducked the nails and debris Law sent flying towards him, and was in his face faster than sight- Law barely got his blade up in time to parry the one aimed at his skull. The man tsk’ed, “You rely too much on your powers, and your swordsmanship is suffering as a result. Your left side is weak- your guard is wide open.”

He expanded a Room around them both, intent on simply sending the bastard out to sea, but couldn’t narrow in on his target, the other too fast to catch, and the force of the other’s blows meant he didn’t have a hand free for long.

An Injection was also unsuccessful, as the beast man batted it away easily. “Where is your precision? I thought you were a surgeon- why are your attacks so wide? Smaller, more accurate ones would take less energy and be easier to slip through an opponent’s defense.”

He grinned, mouth spreading impossibly wide into a scaled snout, even as he grew two feet in size, looming now. “I’m not a small target.”

A fruit user, of course! They were exceedingly rare in the Blues, and Law hadn’t faced one in years. He wondered no longer at the man’s terrible strength and speed. Worse, the fearsome axe at his hip remained untouched, its own sign this man wasn’t taking this fight seriously.

He even spoke like this was just a spar between friends, the easy humor in his voice almost mocking, even as he swung another heavy hit, the clang of metal echoing in Law’s ears.

Law gritted his teeth, holding tightly to calm as the other seemed to pinpoint every one of his flaws. He was being battered mercilessly, not a single moment to recover- but just as he thought he might lose grip of his sword entirely with another blow, Shachi and Penguin were there before him.

It took both of them, spear and sword parrying the blade, to hold off the intruder. The man’s expression went flat, “I have no quarrel with you.” Shachi growled, “Yeah? You sure seem to have one with our captain!”

They shoved forward, the man ceding a step- he drew back, arm raising to break the block, and Penguin shouted, “Now!”

There was a splash, and Bepo shot from the water off the side of the dock towards the man- a flash of metal shone in the sun, and when he’d finished his arc, slipping into the water on the other side, a seastone cuff was visible secured to the man’s wrist.

Shachi and Penguin high-fived victoriously as their opponent stared at the metal cuff for a moment, expression even.

The man actually laughed, then- a short bark tinged with humor. He pointed to them jovially, “That was a clever move- keep that one in your pocket. If I were anyone else, it would’ve worked.”

His grin turned feral, “Unfortunately, you’re fighting me.” And he leapt forward, pressing them back with a heavy blow, strength not dampened an ounce by the cuff.

His officers retreated beside him, and Penguin’s hands tightened on his spear, teeth gritting, “That’s seastone, I know it is! How is he not affected?!”

Law’s eyes narrowed, looking closer- the man’s eyes were blue now, a stormy gray shade, and his teeth were a normal human shape. It was striking, after facing such a fierce beast, to see him closer to a man- how… strangely normal he seemed.

“He is- look, he’s no longer transformed. But it’s not weakening him, for some reason.” He glared, raising his voice to their opponent, “Why doesn’t seastone affect you like it should?”

The man tilted his head in confusion, expression flat, “Why would I tell you that? I’d be losing a free advantage.”

Law was scrambling now, to keep up with the other, knowing the fate that awaited him if he failed here. He wouldn’t go back, he would never go back.

The other had come to fight him, and hadn’t involved his crew until they’d involved themselves, and even now seemed reluctant to harm them. Why? “Because you already have plenty of advantages, and you’re too honorable to fight like that. You want it to be fair.”

The man shook his head, sighed indulgently, “I know exactly what you’re doing, appealing to my sense of honor. But I’ll give you a freebie for trying. Extensive exposure to seastone lets you build up a tolerance. It doesn’t stop affecting you- I feel all the weakness and pain it causes- but I can withstand it now.”

A lopsided grin, almost as sharp even without the fearsome teeth, “I wouldn’t recommend trying it yourself- it took seven years of wearing the cuffs day in and day out. Pops’ last gift to me.”

Something in Law’s mind recoiled at the idea of being cut off from his powers for such a length of time- he had endured that strange emptiness for a few hours before in close calls with the Marines, but years? It was a chilling thought.

Everything about the beast man was mystifying- his strange, one-sided familiarity with Law, his cordial tone even as he hammered away mercilessly at Law’s defenses… There was a sort of expectation there, in the other’s behavior towards him.

Was it because of the Family? Did the beast man think them comrades, somehow? Think they shared an allegiance to Doflamingo? The thought made rage rise in his throat, acidic and inexorable as bile.

He growled out, “Who are you?” The man stopped suddenly, head tilted- he seemed genuinely surprised, some kind of disappointment there. “You still don’t know? Maybe you aren’t as intelligent as I thought.” Law sneered, “Stop beating around the bush.”

But the other was angry now, brow furrowed and all trace of humor gone. “I really thought you knew.” He shook his head, attacked again- the blow was hard enough to jar Law’s arms painfully, his block barely holding it back. Law gritted his teeth, “Knew what?”

He was swept back with one savage blow, his officers catching him, the other’s face suddenly inches from his own. “What is my name?” It was almost a roar.

The beast man seemed to visibly restrain himself, the snarl fading back into that stoicism as he stepped back, sheathing his weapon unceremoniously. “Tell me that, and I’ll talk to you. For now… I’m wasting my time.”

And then he was gone, leaving them bewildered and out of breath.

---

Drake made it to an alley on the other side of town before he collapsed, shaking. He needed, he needed- he leaned against the wall, slid to drop unceremoniously to the floor, tucked his fingers into the collar around his throat.

The leather tightened almost to pain, the sensation of it on his skin bringing his heartbeat to a vivid thunder in his ears, dumping his soul right back into his body, where before he’d been floating haphazardly outside it.

He focused on the quick pulse raging against his fingertips, relying on it to keep him grounded.

Was there anyone left who remembered Diez Drake as he had been, before the Family had claimed him? Because Drake didn’t.

He’d thought, for some foolish reason, that the other would have known him. It was nonsensical, really- they’d never met, their only connection the cruel coincidence of being the only survivors of That Day, being saved by the same man.

But he’d- he’d clung to this, the idea that there was one person who might have even a fleeting recollection of who he was, even only a second-hand knowledge.

He’d been an idiot to think so- and why was this so important to him, that the other know him? Why did it cause him such despair to be proven wrong? All it meant- his breath hitched, and he savagely fought back the tears that itched at his eyes- all it meant was that… there wasn’t a single person alive who knew Diez Drake before he’d been claimed by the Family.

That person might as well not exist any longer, because Drake himself was forgetting them. He’d spent seven years in pops’ crew, but that time was a blur of shackles and beatings and hunger.

Even before that, the forests and furs of his youth seemed so far away, the memories smothered in the flames that had destroyed them.

He’d written down all he could, but the words were distant and lifeless without the color of personality behind them. He couldn’t remember pops without a scowl, couldn’t remember his baby sister’s face, couldn’t remember the cadence of Ma’s voice or that lullaby she’d hummed.

Was there only this, now? This shackled beast, chained to Doflamingo’s will? Had there ever been anything else? Would there ever be, again?

Something dripped, hot and liquid, onto his bare chest. The shock of it stilled him- was he… crying? He glanced down- no, it was blood, the spikes of his collar having bitten through the flesh of his palm.

The copper tang of it threatened to detach him from his body once more, and he dropped his head back to the wall, pulling himself together one piece at a time. He took his handkerchief from his pocket, wiping away the blood from his spikes and skin, before clenching it in his fist as a makeshift bandage.

Soon enough, he had repaired his stoic facade enough to shrug it back on, and belatedly remembered the seastone cuff, picking its lock easily and tossing it aside. He gritted his teeth, letting them sharpen once more, feeling the heat behind his eyes that meant they had returned to the molten yellow of the beast.

So no one remembered him, before he’d become this. It didn’t matter, in the end. All that mattered was that he accomplished his mission.

Chapter Text

The strange beast man wanted a name- wanted his own name- and for some reason, he had believed Law had it.

Fanger seemed sure this enforcer had been sent after him particularly, so the man would be back eventually- and the only way to get answers from him was to give him what he wanted.

Law was going to have to start with what little he had- the other claimed they had almost met, and he seemed surprised Law didn’t know him.

He could only think of one thing the other would be talking about, given the context of the Family. Minion. Somehow, the other man had been on Minion that day. What he didn’t know was how, or with whom.

There had been four factions on the island that day- the Marines, the Family, the Barrels pirates, and he and Cora-san. He felt he could rule out one of them fairly easily- obviously the other hadn’t come with them.

He didn’t know the beast man as a member of the Family, but clearly, there was a great deal he didn’t know about the Family. Vergo was proof of that. But the other wouldn’t expect Law to know him, then.

A Marine? Not unless this man had been someone Cora-san knew… but he seemed too young for that, closer to Law’s own age.

From there, he narrowed in on the Barrels Pirates- the reason they’d gone to Minion Island in the first place. A pirate named Diez Barrels had the fruit, and Cora-san had stolen it from them.

Law had thought all the Barrels pirates dead, killed by Doflamingo. He’d heard the screaming, though Cora-san had tucked him away in his coat to keep him from seeing the carnage. Had there been a survivor? How had he escaped? The Family, apparently.

But it wasn’t like pirate crews had publicly available rosters, and Barrels had been the only one of his crew with an active bounty. With that, Law had officially hit a roadblock- the dilemma haunted him, and it was driving him to distraction.

Even his crew had taken note of the lengths to which he’d hyperfocused on the problem. Shachi prodded him with his fork at dinner, waggled mocking eyebrows at him, “Your spy might be jealous, now you’re obsessed with another mystery person.”

He glared, prodded back, “Fanger will be glad I’m uncovering the beast man’s identity, because it’ll get us closer to taking down Doflamingo.”

The puzzle followed him into his dreams that night. He was back in the treasure chest- swaddled in his cloak, bruised and aching and pressing his ear to the wood, trying desperately to hear what was going on outside.

He remembered this, remembered the standoff between Cora-san and Doflamingo, remembered exactly these tears falling as Cora-san huffed, “…Law’s long gone by now- I made sure he was outside the cage.”

The wind carried Baby 5’s distant voice to the wall of the chest, “He’s right, Master! We heard a transmission saying the Marines took in a boy!” Doflamingo shouted, “What? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” The quiet call back, “Because we didn’t think it was Law!”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t him, because he was still hidden right here, in front of Doflamingo. But there was someone else, then- the Marines had taken someone else in, and it was that assumption Doflamingo made that bolstered Cora-san’s bluff, distracted Doflamingo from him.

Doflamingo cursed, shouted for the others to make ready the ship, to go after the Marine battleship and retrieve Law. Leaving behind any suspicion that Cora-san might have been lying to him.

Law shot up in bed, one thought echoing with startling clarity in his mind- he’s the other boy.

He was out of bed before the thought finished its journey, almost throwing himself at his file cabinet to wrench it open. He’d collected bounty posters from across the North- even ones before his time, just to help give him a leg up as far as power dynamics and history went.

There was one in his collection that might hold the answers he sought- a connection he hadn’t thought to make before, even with it staring him in the face!

Finally, he found it- the edges of the parchment crumbled, but the ink was still legible, the picture still intact. Diez Barrels smirked up at him, something hard and cold in those blue eyes.

The resemblance was clear- even in the faded colors of the old poster, he could see the same orange hair, the robust jaw shared by the beast man. The captain’s own son, of course.

He had the other’s identity- now, what was his name? Diez Barrels had been a Marine officer once, he’d overheard Cora-san saying. Surely there’d be records, somewhere.

His salvation came with another call from Fanger. “I met your enforcer.” The modulated voice almost sounded pleased, “He obviously failed his mission, seeing as you’re alive and not prisoner. Congrats on your win.”

He hesitated, decided not to correct them. He hadn’t won, not at all- the other had simply walked away. He’d had Law overpowered, and easily- and he hadn’t finished it. Instead, Law diverted, “You were right, about his monstrosity.” Fanger huffed, “I know.”

He thought a moment- it was a long shot, but if his informant could help, Law couldn’t afford to waste resources- and asked, “I have a favor to ask, Fanger.” “A favor? Aside from all the information I give you? Quite demanding of you.” “This is different. Do you happen to know… how I can get my hands on Marine personnel records?” There was a garbled noise, something like a huff, “As it just so happens, I do.”

The process was surprisingly simple- no breaking and entering, no theft required. Only a visit to a Marine records outpost (which he hadn’t known was a thing, but he supposed they weren’t the greatest logistical organization in the world for nothing).

Shachi had gone to the Archivist, disguised as a civilian, with a sob story about Barrels being a long-lost uncle and wanting to find genealogy records of his family, and the middle-aged woman had given him a sympathetic pat on the hand and returned with a sheet of paper, copied and noted just for him.

It was only part of a file- as noted by the footer ‘page 3 of 27’, but it listed all of Diez Barrels’ known relatives. There were three names there, all with ‘Deceased’ next to them- two female names, listed as ‘wife’ and ‘daughter’ dead on the same date twelve years earlier, and another male name, a son listed dead on the same date as Barrels, that day on Minion.

He mouthed it silently, a triumphant smirk forming on his mouth. “I found you, Drake.”

His pursuer didn’t make him wait much longer, appearing in the next town they docked at and, true to his word, engaging him without so much as a greeting.
Law wasted no time, retreating from the quick slash and raising his own blade to point directly at the beast man. “I know your name, this time.”

The man only looked at him impassively, golden eyes cold, and he continued, “Diez Drake. Son of Diez Barrels, of the Barrels Pirates. You were there, that day, weren’t you? You were the other boy- the one the Marines took in.”

The other- Drake, his name was Drake- nodded, something like relief loosening the harsh lines of his shoulders at being named. The sword lowered to his side, the sharp teeth melted away into a human visage once more, and blue eyes passed over the spiked cuffs around those wrists.

“When Cora-san destroyed my shackles and told me to run, I thought I was free. It lasted less than an hour. The Family came after the battleship, thinking I was you.”

Law’s eyes widened in shock, the final pieces coming together in his mind- the Family had stolen Drake from the Marines, then. Doflamingo had fallen for Cora-san’s bluff about Law being taken in by the Marines, and they had gone to retrieve him. Except it hadn’t been him there at all, but Drake.

His blood ran cold, even before Drake growled, “You escaped that day, Trafalgar. I didn’t.”

They had traded places, that day- traded fates. The bluff that had let Law get away had led directly to Drake’s capture. His escape had cost the life of one man, and the freedom of another.

And now this Family enforcer- his counterpart, the other face of his coin- was looking to rectify the mistake of fate.

Drake drew that fearsome four-headed axe from his hip, seemingly deciding that Law had earned the extra effort now. He pondered the deadly edge of it, mused, “Both of us died that day, hm? Died and were reborn. You for the better- me… I’m not so sure.”

Law prepared himself, hands tightening around Kikoku’s hilt- if he barely had the strength to hold back the other’s blade, he needed to avoid the axe entirely.

He quietly instructed Penguin to prepare to dive- he got the feeling Drake wasn’t just going to walk away, this time.

The other advanced, a ferocious sort of grin stretching around those sharp teeth, and he was just as horrifically strong and fast with the axe. Law had to rely on switching himself out of its path far too often for his stamina to hold out long. Worse, he had no doubt that a blow from it could compromise the Tang’s pressure hull, so he had to fend the other off until the very last moment.

That almost jovial nature was back, although different now- something solid behind it, determined. “You’ll have to be much faster to catch Joker. You’ve never been caught up in his strings, like I have. They’re faster than light- faster than thought. And if he catches you… it’s over. No one’s ever escaped his wires, once ensnared in them.” The grin was now a rictus snarl, teeth somehow bloody even though Law hadn’t landed a single hit.

He heard three quick raps on metal- they were ready! He retreated to the deck just as that axe crushed a hole in the pier where he’d stood, but Drake was right behind him.

A powerful shove had him falling back against the wall, and the look in those blue eyes was deadly serious as Drake growled, “You can’t beat me- what makes you think you can beat him? I’m nothing against him. And right now, you’re less than that.”

Then Law disappeared from his grasp, landing unsteady in the hall of the sub. “Dive!”, he roared, hand tight around his blade, and didn’t ease up until they were deep below the surface.

He wouldn’t be dissuaded from his path, and he wasn’t interested in hearing how futile it was. Not even from this man who shared his fate.

---

Alone on a ruined dock, Drake spat blood in the ocean- he’d bitten his lip again, damn. Consequences of having knives for teeth, he supposed- the things he did to make Delly smile.

Drake laughed almost giddily to himself, the thought funnier than it usually was. Despite leaving his opponent shaken and off-balance, Drake felt more settled, more uplifted, than he had in years.

When was the last time he’d been called by name? Not that silly diminutive, but Drake? The name his ma had given him, which meant dragon, protector, honorable?

Suddenly, the world had more color, his memories clearer in his head, as if all it had taken was this reminder. He was Diez Drake, son of Diez Barrels, but also of Diez Belinda. Older brother to Diez Linnea. Last survivor of their small, nomadic band that had lived for centuries outside the bounds of the kingdom of Oykot.

He was more than the Beast of the Family, more than Doflamingo’s prized hunting dog. His capture had meant something those years ago on Minion, and his life continued to mean something now.

As long as this one person knew him, he could let that small flame of hope hide within his heart.

His… almost-breakdown, although unintended, also served his purposes in the end. Word would no doubt get back to Joker about Law searching out his records, and he would think Drake’s plan was working.

It was, only not in the way Doflamingo thought.

In the meantime, he had another call to make.

Chapter Text

From then on, Drake seemed inescapable- wherever they went, he caught up eventually. How the other continually found them, he didn’t know. Doflamingo’s information network was truly fearsome, and Law worried he might end up regretting returning to the bastard’s radar this early.

But, curiously, one thing held true in all their fights- Drake never harmed his crew, and he never harmed his ship. He seemingly just wanted to fight Law, and was relentless to that end until they escaped.

So he knew something was wrong when those encounters stopped suddenly. Weeks passed without his pursuer appearing, and Law knew he was getting antsy- for his own sake or Drake’s, he couldn’t be quite sure. He wasn’t actually… concerned that something had happened, was he? To this man he barely knew, of all people?

But he knew Doflamingo, his mind whispered. Joker didn’t tolerate failure. Had Law cost the other his life, permanently this time?

And then, over a month since their last clash, he met a familiar pair of blue eyes in a tavern. He refused to admit it was relief that rushed through him, that he hadn’t been the cause of another death.

But just as quickly, the relief shifted to adrenaline- he wasn’t ready to fight Drake here, fresh off a skirmish with bandits and the Tang sorely needing maintenance. He shifted his weight, hand twitching ready to switch himself across the whole village if he had to, but the other made no move to come for him, those sharp blue eyes not changing a shade.

Drake broke the gaze first, motioning to the barkeep for a second flagon, which was set at the seat next to him. Law hummed to himself, intrigued, then decided to take the offer.

He settled beside the larger man cautiously, glanced at him over his glass, “You’re not trying to kill me for once. What, are you off the clock?” Drake huffed, “If I were trying to kill you, you’d’ve never seen me at all. And you should know as well as I, that the Family is not something you simply clock out of.”

“Then why?” “I have different prey at the moment. But if you’re missing my attention, don’t worry- this hunt won’t take long.” Drake flashed him a smirk, sharp teeth glinting.

“Why are you hunting me?” Drake looked at him head-on, brows furrowed, “Why ask me that? You already know who holds my leash.” It was obvious that Doflamingo was Drake’s master- it should be obvious, as well, that he’d been sent to retrieve Law.

He shook his head, “Not what I mean. You’re stronger than I am- you’ve had multiple chances already, to capture me and bring me back. Why are we playing this game, instead?” Why was the other toying with him like this, giving him false hope if it would all come to nothing in the end?

Drake sighed, swirled his glass absently, “Because Master wants his Heart returned in pristine condition. You’re not meant to be simply a sword of the Family- teeth and claws, like I am. You’re meant to be his right hand, his Heart.”

Law scowled, bared his teeth in a snarl, “So he’s sent you to, what- test me? Make me worthy of being at his side?” Drake only tilted his head, nonplussed, “Something like that. He wants you to reach your ‘full potential’.”

It was, partially, a relief- confirmation that Drake wasn’t genuinely seeking his head.

At the same time, it was an insult- there was no cell waiting for him in the control of the Family. Instead, there was a throne, a red carpet and eager sycophants. Doflamingo genuinely expected Law would willingly return, and had everything prepared waiting for him, a twisted sort of welcome for the prodigal son.

The bastard thought him a rebellious teen whose tantrum simply needed to be waited out. The thought was enraging.

But Drake’s next words broke him from his rising fury, “I’ve already been reserved for your Army, you should know. The second Heart saved my life, and the third traded fates with me. I’m to be your sword, in the end. Isn’t that funny?”

It was, actually- funny in exactly the way Doflamingo would perceive it. Sending Drake to retrieve the man who’d cost him his freedom, telling him he was meant to be subordinate to that very man.

The havoc Law’s mere presence- and his absence, as well- was wreaking on Drake’s life must be endless entertainment to the bastard.

He huffed, trying to not look thrown off by this whole situation, and snarked, “Does that mean I can give you orders?” Drake smirked dangerously, “Not yet.” He ran a claw along the rim of his glass, “When you’re my executive, I will loyally follow any order you give me. But until that day, Doflamingo holds my leash.”

His hand tapped at the collar, the claw clacking against the metal spikes. For some reason, Law’s attention fixed there, noting the whisper of resignation in Drake’s voice. So those weren’t just a design choice, but a sign of his place in the Family- Doflamingo’s pet beast, leashed and muzzled. A leash he planned to hand to Law.

His mouth opened- to say what, he wasn’t sure- but before any sound emerged, his denden hummed in his pocket, his hand stilling halfway to his glass. He wasn’t expecting any calls, and most of his crew was within sight across the street, so… Fanger. It must be.

His eyes drifted to Drake beside him, calmly tracing the wood grain on the counter. The other waved him off, “Don’t let me keep you from business. I’ll see you soon.”

And so they continued in this pattern- Law wrought havoc on Joker’s operations with the help of Fanger’s intel, growing in strength and notoriety, with Drake always hot on his trail. The other man became a sort of fixture of his adventures- a visit to a new island wasn’t complete unless punctuated by a visit from his pursuer.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, Drake no longer being simply an enemy. Law felt no genuine fear of being dragged back to the Family- indeed, he found himself looking forward to their fights now, as much as he did calls from Fanger.

He felt the improvement in his skills- his swordsmanship, his speed, his reaction time- that had come from facing the other. As well, although he’d never admit it because of their status as enemies, he felt a genuine sort of camaraderie building between them- Drake was honorable, would never accept an unfair advantage, and was utterly relentless in his task.

Law couldn’t even be truly surprised, after being captured by the Marines, that Drake broke him out before his crew even had the chance.

He heard voices approaching from his cell, was vaguely aware that one sounded familiar, and then there was Drake, in a Marine Rear Admiral uniform. “What.” The Base Commander gruffly ordered, “Up, pirate. You’re being transferred.” Law didn’t move, staring Drake down, and the other marched into the cell, dragging him up by his arm like he weighed nothing.

Drake tipped his head to the Base Commander, smiled kindly, all perfect human teeth and honest blue eyes and beast nowhere to be found, “I’ll take custody of the prisoner now- thank you again, Commander. I’ll ensure the rest of the aid is expedited.” “Much appreciated, sir.”

And then they just walked out of the prison, Law shuffling awkwardly alongside Drake, half hanging from the other’s hand. He muttered to himself, “Can’t believe I was caught by these incompetents.”

Drake tsk’ed mildly, “You’re too harsh on them. A hurricane came through this region last week- the Marines are too busy with emergency relief right now to worry about pirates.” “Hence why you so easily took me off their hands?” “Exactly.”

There were so many questions he had- how did Drake have a Marine uniform that fit him perfectly?, how did he so easily fool the Marines into thinking he was one of them? did he not have a known presence on the seas?- but he settled on, “How do you always know where I am?” Drake grinned, teeth sharpening, “I’m a hunter. My pops was an expert tracker for the Marines, once- taught me everything he knew.”

Unsaid was that this was the life Drake could have had, if he’d escaped Minion that day- if his freedom, his fate, hadn’t been traded for Law’s- but the way his eyes stubbornly remained blue said it all. At the back of Law's mind rested the weight of that leash, as heavy as if he already carried it. He hated the thought.

They continued down the pier, before Law finally asked, “So what now, Drake?” The larger man shrugged, “I’m not going to fight you like this. So I figured…” He swept Law up in his arms- he refused to admit to the yelp that escaped him, or the way he clutched to the Marine coat as Drake made a mighty leap, landing on the deck of the Tang.

Ikkaku was the only one there, and she gave a cut-off shriek at the man’s sudden appearance, juggling the denden in her hands. He could hear the muffled voices on the other end, “-ou okay? What happened?!”

His head engineer blinked at them for a moment wordlessly, eyes flicking to Law and then to Drake and then back again. He tried his best to communicate ‘don’t you dare’ in his glare, and she stifled a sudden wicked grin, brought the denden to her mouth. “Uh. Cap’s back.”

The voices on the other end exploded in a flurry of disbelief, “What? I saw him get taken by the Marines, what do you mean ‘he’s back’?” “He’s back.”

Drake just grinned, infuriatingly merry, and quipped, “Delivery.” He set Law on his feet, pressed his sword into his hand and his hat onto his head, and disappeared, leaving him still in cuffs and alone with his crewmate, who was increasingly close to collapsing with laughter.

Ikkaku did him the mercy of picking the locks on the cuffs, at least, shoulders still shaking with mirth. “Gotta say, Cap. He looks really good in a uniform.” He tried to keep a straight face, but felt his ears heat anyway, “Shut up.” She just cackled.

---

The last time Drake had returned to Dressrosa, Doflamingo had marked him. Drake knew this wasn’t a punishment, but a gift, in the man’s twisted mind- Doflamingo was cruel even in his most ardent affection.

No, Doflamingo had full faith in his plan, was actually gleeful at the idea of Drake preparing his Heart to return to them. When Drake had apologized for his machinations taking so long, the Master had assured him that it was of no consequence, that he had ‘all the time in the world’.

He was so sure of his dominance, of the loyalty of his favorite pet. He spoke of grandiose plans, everything he could accomplish with his Heart returned to him, the glory Drake would receive at his side, even as he carved the most terrible of brands into his skin.

Drake hadn’t made a single sound throughout the process, sharp teeth biting through his lip to hold the agony in his throat. Every inch the loyal beast, taking the mark without complaint.

Baby 5 had gasped when she’d been sent for, to treat the fresh wounds. She and Monet had murmured softly to each other over him, words barely passing through his pain-nauseous mind- from a dismayed, “Oh, he wouldn’t want this at all! He’ll be so-” to Monet’s stern whisper, “We serve at the will of the Master, Five. What he wants…” “He takes. I know.”

Even now, the leather of Drake’s coat rubbed painfully against still-healing welts. He could only be thankful it wasn’t the marked-out smile- the one that mocked him from his collar and coat- that now broke his skin. But the reality was in some ways almost worse.

When he returned to the sea, Drake marked himself- a sort of reassurance, taking his own skin back for himself in this one small way, at least. He felt a small measure of triumph, looking at the tattoo- the ‘X’ broad across his chest, worn proudly unlike the incessant burning he felt at his back.

Doflamingo didn’t know what it meant- no one but Drake was alive to know what it meant, as his native language survived in him alone. He’d spread his name across his chest for all to see, and none were the wiser. The Family couldn’t take this from him- they couldn’t take his name, his family from him. Drake was still his father’s son, despite everything.

Trafalgar had asked about the new tattoo, during their last clash- the other was talkative in combat now, probing with questions to try and distract Drake, get him to let something slip- but he had redirected with a taunt, “A target- since your aim is so poor. ‘X marks the spot’, aye?” The indignant flush blooming on the other’s face was worth the strike that had nearly taken his head off.

Ironically, despite being faced with the reason for his pain, the other side of his coin who’d won because Drake had lost… these meetings were what most alleviated that pain.

Seeing that his captivity meant something, that someone had benefited from him being taken that day, gave him a foreign sense of fulfillment, in a way. Trafalgar was the only one who called him by name- the only one Drake truly felt like himself with, in all this time. And having to take into account Trafalgar’s awesome powers made him work harder, think more creatively, stretch skills that would have otherwise grown stagnant in the false peace of Dressrosa.

All in all, he was having fun with these fights. Too much fun, he reminded himself, for a hunter playing with their prey. This hunt couldn’t last forever.

Chapter Text

Law supposed one could get used to anything, no matter how strange or untoward, if it happened often enough. Accordingly, his crew had long learned to stay out of the way when Drake showed up, often simply rolling their eyes and leaving the combatants to it. Except when they didn’t.

“Alright, time out!” Drake jerked to a stop, nearly tripping over himself to hold back the strike already in motion as Shachi casually popped up between the two, a plate of onigiri in hand. Law just rolled his eyes, “What is it?” “Lunch time!” Drake sounded almost offended, “‘Lunch t’- you jumped in front of my axe to-“, before huffing in disbelief and sheathing his weapons.

Penguin shrugged, “We brought plenty for you, too.” The other man opened his mouth, clearly about to argue that that was not the point, before simply giving up. When the plate of onigiri was offered to him, he sighed and took one, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’. Law took his own portion, sitting cross-legged on the deck- Drake would have to join him there, to talk more.

After a long moment, he did, leveraging himself to a seated position, hunched over the onigiri in his hand. The large man simply stared at it for a while, seemingly in disbelief, and chided, “You shouldn’t be offering your enemy food.” Law shrugged, “You’re not my enemy- Doflamingo is.” Drake scoffed, “And yet I am his fangs and claws, and he my Master. My blade is no less deadly for simply being a tool of the puppeteer.”

He took Drake’s hand in his own, bringing it to his chest. The angle was deliberate, so that if the other brought his claws out now, they would slice directly into his aorta- it would be easy. And yet he was confident in that hand remaining warm flesh under his own- not an ounce of fear existed in him anymore, replaced by an unwavering knowledge that his trust would be rewarded.

And it was, the large man frozen in place, not so much as breathing for a long moment, hand held against Law’s heart. Then he blinked and pulled away, turning from Law entirely. Law smirked, bluff successfully called, and murmured, “Not deadly to me.” Drake wouldn’t meet his eyes, hand flashing into claws as if proving to himself it still could, and he growled, “You know very well why I can’t kill you.”

All humor was wiped from his expression immediately, in favor of a glower. That leash- that damn leash. He’d tear the thing to shreds before he’d ever accept it. Now he just had to show Drake that.

His opportunity came with their next encounter- he’d felt Drake coming while exploring a cave system, the hunter relentlessly pursuing the Hearts through its passages into a wide cavernous ballroom of stone. What ensued was a duel that drove him to new heights, pushed him to seek out his boundaries and surpass them. His smirk felt almost as feral as the other looked, high on the thrill of the fight.

He would finally draw blood today- something he hadn’t managed, through all their bouts. The blood dripping from his blade, the way its tip was embedded in the other’s sternum, exactly in the center of the ‘X’, was proof enough of his improvement, though something held his mind captive at the sight. Drake only hummed, “Good. But not good enough.”

Quick as a flash, there was a claw wrapped around the blade of his sword, holding it firmly in place in Drake’s flesh. He couldn’t remove it, couldn’t retreat back from a retributive strike without abandoning it to the other’s grasp.

Just as quickly, the grip loosened- but the lesson had been very well learned. Once again, the other had had him pinned, and had given up the chance to finish it. He couldn’t afford to freeze like that when he faced Joker. Still, the blood trailing down the other’s chest wouldn’t stop catching his eye, the way his blade was bronzed with it. It didn’t feel like victory.

Fanger had called the beast man a monster- in this, Law thought his source wasn’t quite right. Drake was meant to be a proxy, an extension of Doflamingo’s will, his teeth and claws, his sword. But Law knew different now- this hunter was only another victim of the man, being puppeteered to do his bidding. A beast, leashed and collared by its master- chains in all but name.

And now he knew what he had to do to make his point- he put all of his precision and fine control into the next strike, focusing intently on his target. This blow landed exactly where he intended it- the leather of the spiked collar split, sliced with surgical precision- and he smirked victoriously. He hadn’t been aiming for Drake’s throat- not directly, at least. But his frown was back when the metal core revealed within it held firm around the man’s neck.

Drake huffed, bitter, “That’s not an option, sorry.” There was something different about him, more grim than previous encounters. His next strike had the weight of resolve behind it, and Law barely held it off, ceding a step even as Drake’s face came inches from his own. The larger man grew even more beastly, bared his teeth in a snarl, “You can’t afford mercy, Trafalgar. Until you can kill me, you won’t be able to face him.” He clenched his teeth in defiance- he wouldn’t. He’d find a way to defeat Joker without becoming exactly like him.

Something changed then, both of them hitting harder now- no longer only a testing duel but a battle of views, of wills. Law pressed Drake back with renewed vigor, the other returning with a roar of challenge and a swing of that mighty axe. The air crackled, nearly tangible with the force of it emanating from them. And the walls around them couldn’t take such abuse. The only warning he got before the ceiling began to collapse over them was Bepo’s panicked, “Uh, Captain-!”

Law expected many things, as time slowed in his perception and his priorities shifted- he expected pain, expected his sudden distraction to be punished, Drake’s blade aimed perfectly, expected to trade the exposure of his own weakness for his crew’s safety. What he didn’t expect was for Drake to catch the falling roof atop his own shoulders, frame bulking to something half-monstrous to hold the enormous weight. Sharp teeth gritted in pain as something audibly snapped under the pressure, but he held strong even as his breathing grew labored.

Law took the opportunity granted him and wasted no time in switching his crew out of danger as Drake dutifully held up the cave roof. Then it was just the two of them there, the mountain crumbling atop them but for Drake holding it up, his frame now shuddering with exertion, and golden eyes seemed to ask ‘Why are you still here?’ Law’s answer was to open another Room around them both, and when he disappeared from the cave, Drake did as well.

They landed in the open air, and Drake slid down against a boulder, frame shrinking once more- his breathing skipped and juddered, a telltale sign of a collapsing lung, and Law advanced on him, determined to stop the sound.

The other waved him off, anger stolen from him by pain and exhaustion, “This can’t kill me, I have unidirectional lungs.” Law paid no attention, only growled, “Be still or I’ll take your head off.” The other man finally froze, hung there silently, reluctantly obedient as his ribcage was dragged open and the offending rib settled back into place, its corresponding puncture patched. A quick Scan showed nothing else life threatening, and he couldn’t waste time with superficial injuries, had to get to his crew, but-

“Why?”

He could have easily let Drake die and had one fewer opponent in the Family, made things easier for himself down the line, or even just let him suffer here, let him struggle back to his ship and seek care the normal way. It was what an enemy would do. But wasn’t he trying to prove himself something different?

Golden eyes had faded momentarily to gray-blue, sharp teeth dulled with pain and exhaustion, but the gaze was still sharp when Law met it grimly. “You said you were meant to be mine. I take care of my people.”

Drake’s head thunked back against the stone, and he huffed, choked on it. “He said the same thing, when the Family claimed me.” Law glared, shot back instinctively, “I’m not like him.” Golden eyes caught his own, “Then why do you talk like him?” Law had no answer for that, the words stabbing at him.

Drake sighed heavily, dropped his head against the wall, and his next question was almost apologetic, “What kind of man, then, is so unlike the heart that beats for him?” This time, Law had an answer, spoke determinedly as he turned away. “The kind that doesn’t have a heart, and never will.”

Drake was absent for the next month, which Law was glad for, as it hopefully meant the other was healing. It would’ve been embarrassing for both of them if he’d shown, because Law would have refused to fight him, and openly acknowledging things like that was unacceptable.

But the lack of encounters only made him itch for the day they crossed swords again- he had something to prove, now. He had no intentions of being a slave master, of holding the leash that kept another on his knees. He would break those chains, and show Drake that he was nothing like Doflamingo.

---

Drake couldn’t allow himself to lose focus, to be distracted. By all accounts, his plans were going perfectly- as perfectly as one could manage with memory-manipulating enslavement on the board, to be fair. The Tontatta gained strength and intel unnoticed- the toy soldier that served as their leader trusted Viola, for reasons yet unknown to her, and they were able to forge a quiet sort of alliance this way, passing what they could to the rebellion.

‘Fanger’ had become an important chip on the board, with both Drake and Viola using the guise to lead their ‘pirate friend’ to shipments and factories, each loss chipping away ever so slowly at Joker’s impenetrable facade. And on the seas as well, Drake served his purpose, forcing Trafalgar to become stronger, one fight at a time.

Still, the mark on his back served as a constant reminder of the risk he took, with the young pirate. The hatred the other bore for Doflamingo could only serve their purposes in defeating him, he trusted- but how familiar it felt, sometimes. His would-be Executive, who spoke the same words as his Master and promised to be different. He hated that he saw Joker in the other, sometimes.

Drake had no doubt that he would be a kinder Master than Doflamingo, low a bar as that was. Was his leash simply to be passed from one hand into another? Would his idea of freedom only ever be a kinder hand to control him?

He’d long given up on the ideal- for himself, at least. (And it only angered him whenever Trafalgar tried to insist it was possible- he didn’t know, he couldn’t see, the damn fool.) But the others could still be saved- Dressrosa, his siblings, Trafalgar himself. And if it took his life to accomplish his task… well, that was a foregone conclusion, at this point. He couldn’t afford to focus on anything but the path before him. And in death, the beast would strangle its master with the leash.

So he continued, in his planning and his fighting, walling off the part of him that missed that almost-camaraderie he and Trafalgar had shared, the memory of the elation at being called by name. He was still weak, still caught himself engaging, even having fun on occasion, but every time, the mark on his back would remind him, and he would have to yank at his own leash once more.

And then, years into this strange arrangement they had, finally came the day when Trafalgar defeated him. It was the first time they’d met after the chaos of Marineford, and there was some new determination in the other’s eyes, something fierce and rejuvenated. That energy had driven him, fighting harder and faster than ever before, and Drake had matched it, letting his feral nature and years of familiarity buoy him in this shared battle-hunger.

The two of them raged, ferocious blows traded back and forth, an intimate knowledge of each other’s patterns making the fight a dance of blades, of claws and Rooms and flying debris.

And Drake lost. For the first time since he had begun this chase, he lost to Trafalgar. His arm lay feet away, hand still wrapped around the hilt of his axe. It was strange, he thought almost distantly, twitching it just to watch it move- like phantom limb pain, like the itch he got in his tail even when he didn’t have one, except real.

But more than shock at his defeat was the sense of triumph- if Trafalgar could defeat him, perhaps he could actually do it. With everything Drake had already set up back in Dressrosa, the plan could unfold even with him absent- Viola and the toy soldier had things well in hand. He had done his part, by ensuring this young pirate was strong enough. His death here would be the perfect message from Trafalgar to Doflamingo- ‘I’m coming for you.’

He bent his head low, accepting it.

A ‘clank’ of sword meeting scabbard, and Trafalgar’s hand extended in a familiar gesture- ah, of course. Why spill blood on the deck when he could simply send Drake out to sea? He closed his eyes, waiting to feel that strange weightlessness, the frigid embrace of the ocean, but it didn’t come. His brows furrowed, uncomprehending. Why wasn’t he finishing it? It wasn’t like Trafalgar to draw out another’s pain- what was-

Oh, the hand was extended to him in offer, not in preparation for an attack. For a long moment, he simply stared. What would it mean, to take that hand? To reveal everything? To allow someone to know him? This one person who called him by name, who saw him as something other than the Beast?

But the itch in his back reminded him suddenly, with all the gentle cruelty of a knife, that his fate was laid out for him- it was foolish to even contemplate an alternative he would never see. He shook his head, stood on his own and backed away, ensured he hid the pain perfectly even as he knelt to reattach his arm. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

He didn’t wait to interpret the unreadable expression on the other’s face, only turned and leapt to the dock, retreating from the eyes following him.

---

Law had expected to feel triumph, at finally defeating his hunter, finally, finally making Drake fall. But watching the man slump on the deck, arm on the floor and looking so resigned, he couldn’t help but feel like this sight was something only he and Doflamingo shared, now. It made him feel sick.

He hadn’t been quite sure what he’d been hoping for, when he reached out. An end to this charade, one way or another. A way to stop fighting Drake, to have their meetings no longer marked by pain, by the shadow of Doflamingo hanging over everything they did.

And the surprise in the other’s face only confirmed to him that no one had ever reached out like this- that even his own Master showed no mercy that could be recognized by the name. He’d contemplated taking Drake’s heart, just to ensure the other couldn’t go back to Doflamingo, but that would make him just as much a captor.

And now the deck was empty, save for himself and Jean-Bart- his newest crewmate hadn’t yet encountered Drake, although he’d heard of the hunter from the others, and had quietly watched the fight.

The large man spoke for the first time, thoughtful, “There were those in Mariejois… who had lived long enough in chains, that they not only forgot what freedom felt like, they stopped believing in it entirely.”

Law hummed in acknowledgement, watching the other man disappear in the distance. Having seen Drake only once, Jean-Bart seemed to have understood completely the other’s circumstances. Having been a slave himself, he must recognize the mindset of it in others.

But Law couldn’t do any more than extend a hand, not as long as Joker hung over them both. And Drake was already gone, as he always was. The world was so much different now, and they were different along with it- but this remained the same after all these years, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed.

That would be the last time they saw each other for two years.