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Rocinante watched the smoke rising in front of him, a dark gray haze that hung heavy over the sky and choked out the soft beams of moonlight. Ash and snow mingled together in the air as they drifted down towards the earth; falling and coating the still smoldering remains of buildings. Rubble and blood were both strewn across the crisp white snow, the remnants of lives he was too late to save. People he couldn't save, even if he had arrived a few moments sooner.
He did this… Rocinante thought, his stomach turning as he surveyed the destruction. Doflamingo.
It had been fourteen years since he had last seen his brother– fourteen years since he had watched him murder their father. He had hoped it would be much longer than that, but right now he had no choice. With each passing day, Doflamingo grew more and more powerful, his rampage spreading across the seas like a plague. There were hundreds of other villages just like this one that had been leveled in his wake, even over something as small as tripping on an uneven road. He had to be stopped, no matter the cost.
But Rocinante wasn’t here to stop him. Not yet… Right now, he was here to join him.
The very thought felt wrong, but like it or not, this was the sacrifice that he had to make to stop him. The only chance he had to take his brother down was to play along with his game and infiltrate his ranks; earn his trust before snapping it in half and stabbing him in the back with it. If Rocinante gave up or blew his cover before the operation even began, then the Navy would never have another chance to take him down. This was the only way to stop a monster.
“What I'm asking, I know it's not fair…” Sengoku had said, head hung low and hands clasped on top of the wanted poster in front of him. Doflamingo's face glared up from it, the upturned edges of his glasses as sharp and menacing as his grin. “But we need someone to infiltrate the Donquixote pirates, and you're our best… No, our only shot at pulling this off.”
“I'm the only person he'd ever consider trusting,” Rocinante had said, his voice hollow. “Fair or not, you're right– it has to be me.”
But a part of him really wished it could have been someone else.
“Brother. Doffy. It's me,” he thought, taking a step into the ruins as he recited the story he and Sengoku had constructed together. Where he had been all these years; why he hadn't come back. Then smile. “I can't believe I've finally found you, after all this time! I've been searching for so long.” The words felt foreign, even just in his mind. Calling them a lie felt insufficient, with how far they were from the truth of the fear and the pain and the anger that he had carried with him since the trigger of that day. “After you left, I realised you were right. You were all I had. Marijoa was all I had. But when I tried to get back to you, I was taken away by the navy.” I was found by an Admiral who cared about me more than you could ever even pretend to. “I thought I'd never find you again.” I'd hoped I'd never see you again. “I've spent every day looking for you.” I've spent every day running from you.
Rocinante fell still, closing his eyes for a moment before pulling out a cigarette, trying to ignore the slight shaking in his hands as he lit it. A soft orange glow. The taste of smoke. He tried again.
“I've spent every day looking for you. I can't believe you're finally here, after all this time. We're finally together again.”
Together again…
Suddenly, all too soon, a sound cut through the desolate village. The crunch of snow echoing through the air as footsteps fell, growing closer and closer. Rocinante froze, unable to bring himself to turn. His heart felt as if it was beating out of his chest, his whole body seizing up with a sudden terror so palpable he could taste it.
“BEH HEH HEH, what do we have here, Young Master? Someone survived?”
Rocinanate didn't recognize that first voice… but the next one to speak, he knew in an instant, even after all this time.
A sadistic chuckle. “I thought you vermin knew enough to at least pretend to be dead.”
A sudden force seized Rocinante's whole body; the violent pull of invisible strings turning him around to look up at the puppeteer controlling them. Ten feet tall, a blood dark suit and a mess of feathers cascading behind him, there stood an unrecognizable man, his sharp glasses obscuring any emotion that could possibly be found in his eyes– if it even existed at all. His fingers were positioned unnaturally, manipulating the strings that held Rocinante there in front of him, frozen. It felt as if they were burning into his skin; like they were trying to peel him apart layer by layer, stripping away the flimsy shield of lies that he still had yet to even build. And this was his one chance to do it. If he couldn't convince Doflamingo that he was on his side right then and there, then…
He'll kill me.
Rocinante's eyes flickered over slightly, glancing at the splatter of blood still fresh on Doflamingo's hand. Stained fingers curled up and the strings felt tighter for a moment, any slack leaving them as he began to be pulled forward.
Say something, now! Rocinante thought, heart pounding as his legs began to move on their own. A slow shuffle through the snow, just a few steps forward, but closer and closer. He could feel the words burning on his tongue, but before he could bring himself to say them, the monster's eyes widened, a slight disbelieving smile playing across his face.
“...Rocy?”
All the tension in the strings suddenly left as Doflamingo dropped his hands, sending Rocinante tipping forward. He stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, but before he could crash into the snow he was roughly grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into… a hug?
What is he doing? Rocinate thought, frozen in place with wide eyes. There was no knife in the back, no threat whispered in the ear, nothing… just a hug.
“After all this time, my brother, my blood, has come back to me…!” There was a grin on his face now, revealing his sharp white teeth and only adding to Rocinante's unease. Doflamingo had completely changed after recognizing him. He was acting as if this was some normal reunion between brothers– as if everything that had happened fourteen years ago was nothing. But Rocinante could never forget what his brother had done. What he'd done right in front of him. “Where have you been?”
Looking for you. That was all he had to say. Three little words and a forced smile as stiff and ingenuine as the way he stood in his brother's embrace. But all the words seemed to be forced out of his mind, leaving nothing behind but the echo of what had been repeating in there for years.
Monster.
It might have meant almost nothing to Doflamingo now, but sometimes the only thing Rocinante could hear was the bang of a pistol. Sometimes all he could remember was the smell of gunpowder, the curl of smoke, and his own terrified screams as their father collapsed to the ground.
How could he say anything to him at all– let alone say what he knew he had to say?
“What, cat got your tongue?” the other man sneered, noting his silence, and Rocinante shifted his attention back to him. He was somehow taller than Doflamingo, if that was even possible, with long dark hair, small glasses, and a constant stream of snot disgustingly dripping down his face. But despite mere appearances, there was something deeply sinister about him too– an undercurrent of something Rocinante guessed ran through the whole crew. Something he'd only seen before in his brother.
Doflamingo let go of Rocinante and looked over at his companion with what was almost certainly a glare underneath his glasses, the angry furrowing of his brow and the gritting of his teeth not obscured behind the reflective red lenses. “Trebol, this is my precious brother.” He warned, his tone icy and dripping with danger. “Don't ever speak down to him again– I wouldn't even spare you, if someone hurt him. It's the law of blood.”
Law of blood? Rocinante thought, fighting tooth and nail to keep his face neutral. He dug his fingers into his palm, biting back a stream of accusations that would most certainly have blown his cover. You killed your own father!
“Though, you are being rather quiet.” Doflamingo said after a moment, furrowing his brow and turning back towards Rocinante. “Why won't you say anything, Rocy?”
Because I have nothing to say to the likes of you, Rocinante thought. Never to you.
The carefully scripted conversation he'd made with Sengoku was now completely gone from his mind. The thought of saying anything at all, let alone that he missed Doflamingo, made his stomach churn. And asking to join his crew and aid in his monstrous rampage felt even worse. Even if he didn't mean it, to say it out loud felt like a betrayal of himself and everything he stood for. But he had to at least say something, didn't he?
Or… maybe he didn't.
I'd never even have to lie, if I just keep my mouth shut instead, Rocinante thought, the idea creeping into his mind, and alongside it a tiny sliver of relief. I can't trip over my words or contradict myself… and most of all, I'd never have to speak to him again. That was certainly something he could live with... If there was one thing Rocinante was more familiar with than anyone else, it was silence.
“Can you not talk?” Doflamingo asked, posture shifting and eyebrows knitting upwards as he began to piece things together.
This time, the silence spoke for itself. Rocinante wasn't going to waste words on someone who wasn't worth them. Doflamigo could believe what he wanted to believe, filling the silence between them with whatever answers served his perspective best. After all– who better to trick Doflamingo than Doflamingo himself?
“I see… Well, we'll have to work around that, then, I suppose…” he said. “But what matters is that you're back, and together you and I can put this world beneath us. Make the humans pay for what they dared do to us. To gods.”
Doflamingo was a killer and a liar, and he had been so almost all his life. But there was something in his tone and in his face this time that made it seem like maybe he was being honest for once, when he acted like he cared about Rocinante. He was certainly still being manipulative, but maybe, just maybe, in his own horrible way, he really did care that his brother was back. He really did care if someone hurt him.
But even if that were true, Rocinante knew without a doubt that if Doflamingo ever caught wind of the slightest hint of betrayal, then he would meet the same fate as their father. And there would be no hesitation in the hand that pulled the trigger.
So just keep your head down, your mouth shut, and your eyes open… he thought, taking a deep breath. However long he had to keep up with this charade, whatever he had to do to make it believable– he would fulfil his role without wavering. Without faltering. Doflamingo had to be stopped, no matter how far that meant Rocinante had to go.
And contrary to his brother's manipulative tactics– Rocinante would destroy him without a single word.