Chapter Text
How odd, Doflamingo thought, the cell was unguarded today. Not unheard of, he supposed, but Magellan had taken to sitting just outside the iron bars like a disgruntled guard-dog. Though as amusing as the image was, he suspected it might not be far from the truth. Whatever moves Marie Geoise had made to silence Doflamingo had clearly started the old devil. Enough at least to sacrifice most of his free time to act as Doflamingo’s personal babysitter.
Magellan was a brute, and one with an obnoxious odour at that. But he was an amusing presence. The perfect blend of serious and grouchy. Plus, it helped that the former jailor tended to indulge Doflamingo in his ramblings. It could not be said that Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t enjoy a little stroking of the ego.
Any other day, he would have expected the large man’s persistent presence, but today he was alone. Perhaps more suspiciously, there was not a single guard posted in replacement. Not that any human they sent down would be worth the company they provided, but it did help to have another puppet within reach in case his boredom grew beyond the limits of his imagination.
How he missed Dressrosa. The country is filled with ignorant fools who would lap up his every word, all while ignorant that their friends and family were toiling away beneath their feet. They were in the palm of his hand, both literally and figuratively.
Though at times it was hard to find some time for himself. Even his own bedroom was victim to the constant barrage of questions from Trebol or Sugar about where to send the weapons or what to tell the marines. At the time, it had grated on his skin. Even as a king, he had to bite his tongue and fulfil his role. His only taste of freedom came when he would leap out of his window and swing out onto the seas where nobody could demand anything of him.
But miles under the ocean in a solitary cell, the only noises were the groaning of the waves against the stone walls. He missed the sun on his skin. How long since he’d felt any source of light but the flickering of torches? He missed the roar of laughter and music that carried through on the gentle breeze outside his palace window. He missed the meaningless questions that his crew would ask him, their leader, no matter how moronic they may be.
At times grating, they were still better than nothing, and they did their best to fill the void inside his chest. Now his only company was his own mind, and what a cruel place that could be.
The situation was so strange that it took a few moments for him to notice the shift in the area. One moment, nothing. And then there was the clamour of what sounded like a whole entourage. For a shameless second, Doflamingo wondered if somehow some of the other prisoners had managed to stage a breakout. But that hope was snuffed almost instantly when the unmistakable lurking silhouette of Magellan lumbered through the torch-lit hallway. He was followed by the hurried shuffle of other guards. The sight of such a large group of prison staff alone would be cause for curiosity, but it was the hooded figure stalking just behind them that caught Doflamingo’s attention.
The figure carried himself with an air of confidence that could scarcely be seen outside of perhaps some of the top brass Marine soldiers, a few of his former warlord colleagues, and of course, the ever loathsome celestial dragons.
Once just outside the cell, Magellan wrestled his fingers into his pocket and plucked out a key. Doflamingo raised his eyebrow, despite the futility of the gesture.
“What a lovely surprise, don’t tell me I have my own visitor,” Doflamingo drawled. He bared his teeth in a lazy grin to the former warden, but to his surprise, his question was met with silence. In fact, Magellan's attention seemed transfixed on something elsewhere. The brute wasn’t even looking at him!
“Not quite,” a new voice answered instead.
The cloaked figure strode forward, shadow creeping up behind him. “If all goes as planned, after today, you won’t need to worry about visitors anymore.”
Doflamingo attempted to crane his neck up, trying to get a view of the figure. His hood shielded his face, and shadows draped over any exposed areas to the point that identifying any features would be impossible.
The figure motioned, and Magellan twisted the key into the cell. The doors flung open. Seastone be damned, it was the first glimpse of freedom he’d gotten in months. This was truly a special day.
The figure turned to Magellan now, and Doflamingo almost missed the way the former warden stiffened.
Suddenly, it dawned on Doflamingo that this man was not just the cause for the nervousness of the other guards but also for the subdued hesitancy with which Magellan seemed to be conducting himself. Marines and staff at Impel Down may work together, but when it came to the underwater prison, it was the staff that held jurisdiction. No doubt, Magellan would show respect to important naval figures, but fear? Unless he was encountering someone not only incredibly powerful, but also superior in hierarchy, he couldn’t imagine anything causing the jailor fear. Yet here he was, eyes glued to the cloaked figure with an intensity he had never seen in the man. Perhaps he truly had been protecting him from the meddling forces of the government, Doflamingo thought. Or perhaps he simply valued the procedural aspect of his job above any pleasure he got from excessively tormenting the prisoners. Either way, there was nothing he could do now. Without a doubt, the man before him was part of the celestial dragons. One with enough power to force his way here.
“That will be all,” the figure stated. Magellan hesitated for a second, then, perhaps sensing the impatience growing in front of him, nodded hastily. He lumbered away with the remaining guards floundering after him. Doflamingo suppressed a chuckle as his mind conjured the image of a trail of ducklings shuffling after their mother. Satisfied that they were now solitude, the figure turned back to the prisoner restrained on the floor.
“Donquixote Doflamingo,” the man greeted.
Doflamingo gritted his teeth. “How kind of you to trek all the way down to the pit of hell from your cosy perch in Marie Goeise,” he sneered. “I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but I think you’ll find that quite difficult.”
The figure didn’t so much as blink in response to his taunting. At least he wasn’t one of those pompous self-righteous bastards who flew off the handle the second they were insulted. “The journey was tolerable, as it always is,” the man explained. “It is quite common for my duty to take me quite far from the Holy Land.”
“Your duty?” Doflamingo hissed. He suspected as much. There was only one kind of celestial dragon that would make their way down here among the reek of humanity without a bubble over their head. “I take it you’re part of the God’s Knights then.”
“I suppose knowledge of the world around you was a necessity for the schemes you pulled, Joker .” He didn’t miss the way the man’s voice grunted out the last word. Like a particularly disgusting thing that tainted his mouth by being spoken at all.
“The existence of God’s Kights is hardly comparable to some of the other secrets I know.” He watched for a reaction. To his credit, the stranger didn’t give anything away. Doflamingo prided himself on his ability to worm his way into the head of his opponents.
It was a fun game to try and unravel someone. Sometimes they’d splinter apart immediately like a puppet whose strings have been sliced. Others took more effort, requiring a tug over time until eventually the thread holding them together unravelled completely, leaving nothing but a tangled mess. He found the latter to be the most amusing. And if he was lucky, he could try and piece them back together, in his own way, of course.
But right now, the man didn’t seem interested in playing.
“Knowledge can be a dangerous thing,” the figure mused. “But only if you have the chance to share it.”
Doflamingo snorted. “I figured as much. So what,” he hissed. “Are you here to silence me once and for all?” Laughter racked through his body, rattling the chains digging into his skin. “I would have suspected a bit more subtlety, though I suppose you already tried that… Magallon prefers to do things by the book.”
“If that was my intention, I assure you, you would be dead already.”
Doflamingo eyed the sword strapped to the man’s waist. It glinted in the torchlight. It carried with it a kind of energy, dancing with a desire that made it feel alive. "Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he purred. “Though I would be remiss to overlook the fact that any victory over me now wouldn’t be much of an indication of your abilities. I’m not quite feeling like myself right now, what with all these chains.”
“Perhaps,” the figure said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Though I wouldn’t underestimate my abilities regardless.”
Doflamingo hummed thoughtfully. “Confident are we?” Perhaps this man would make a better conversation partner than Magallen. He seemed to think highly of himself, at least. “And who exactly are you?”
“I am the commander of the God’s knights,” the man replied. He lifted his hood back so hair sprang loose in a red cascade down his neck. His bangs parted on both sides of his face, and another portion was sectioned off in a braid that wrapped around his head. The hairstyle was achingly reminiscent of the one mother had worn all those years ago. At least when she was still glowing with life. Before the mortal realm had squandered her.
He shuddered to recall the way her face had grown pale with sickness and eventually cold and lifeless.
The man in front of him was quite beautiful for a celestial dragon - at least compared to some of the ones Doflamingo vaguely recalled in his youth, or seen in passing during warlord business. That aside, it wasn’t the beauty that made his face striking. Doflamingo had seen this face in wanted posters. He’d seen it under headlines in the papers. He’d seen it in person once during the Summit War. But this was not Red-Haired Shanks, one of the four emperors of the sea.
“I am Figarland Shamrock, eldest son of Figarland Garling,” the man before him explained, as if sensing Doflamingo’s curiosity. Something about both names stirred a memory in Doflamingo that he felt must have been important to him at some point. A man with hair curled into a crescent shape and a perpetual sneer. Perhaps there was even a time when Doflamingo had wanted to be like him, though now it is all a foggy haze.
“I suppose that means I’m not the only pirate to have a noble lineage,” Doflamingo said, testingly. Shamrock’s expression remained stiff, but something about it felt more guarded.
“My brother has his own ideas about the world,” was the only answer he got. And wasn’t that just so? How loathsome it was to have a brother, and how agonising it was not to, Doflamingo thought. He didn’t know the stranger before him, but perhaps they had more in common than he suspected. It wasn’t quite kinship, but at least a sort of understanding.
“And you? What do you think of this world?” Doflamingo asked.
“It matters not what I think,” Shamrock replied. “The world is as we require it to be; we are its gods. We are the world.”
“We?” Doflamingo paused, his grin loosening slightly despite himself. “Perhaps you’ve been missing something, but your lot threw me out ages ago. Unless you’re using a royal ‘we’, I don’t have much to do with the world now.” Loath as he was to admit it, it was true. When before he could subtly manipulate the world to his liking through his underground connections, now he had but empty threats. He may get the occasional newspaper to keep him up to date on the major events, but there was little he could do inside his cell. Even his taunts to Magellan had stayed largely baseless. He was not the world.
At least not yet.
Shamrock examined the bonds on Doflamingo carefully, as if they were pitiful. “This age is coming to an end as I’m sure you’ve begun to suspect recently.” Doflamingo’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “All sorts of factions have begun to make their plans, including my own.” Shamrock stepped forward into the cell itself. He was not nearly as tall as Doflamingo, but he held the advantage of not being flat on his back. “We’ve taken notice of certain individuals.”
Doflamingo huffed, “I suppose that explains this little get-together. But you still haven’t explained what you want from me.”
“It's less what we require from you and more what you may stand to gain from us.” Shamrock turned his gaze away for a moment. Doflamingo couldn’t help the flare of hatred he felt for the man. Here he lay tied down and powerless, while this stranger droned on. “We’re offering you an opportunity, a chance at redemption, you could say. You see, we’re in need of filling our ranks with powerful allies who can see the world as we deem it.”
For a moment, Doflamingo thought he was hallucinating. Surely this man was not insinuating what he thought he was insinuating. Perhaps this whole interaction was just a large joke, a play at his expense. Surely the figure before him would turn and laugh before leaving him to rot in his cell. But what would be the point of that?
“You were turned away many years ago, it’s true, but you were still born with noble blood.” Doflamingo wanted to hiss at him that he already knew all this. That it was he who’d been shunned when his father had been the fool. “Your path has strayed to more unsavoury areas, but with how things are changing, we’ve been reminded of what matters. What better candidate to join the ranks of the God’s Knights than someone who has known both life as a Celestial Dragon and a pirate?” Shamrock finished, a proud glint in his eyes. Doflamingo couldn’t respond for a second, too dumbstruck by the suggestion.
“It’s an honour to even be considered,” Shamrock added, sensing his hesitancy.
Finally, Dodlamingo found the words that had coiled inside him. They sprang.
“Why would I ever want to work for the likes of you?” he snarled. He bared his teeth in a smile, any hint of friendliness vanishing. A deep-seated hunger for blood bared its teeth again. A desire to kill, to destroy. It’s rage so intense he almost couldn’t see anything in front of him but red. It was blinding. It was painful. How dare he? How dare they!
The pressure in his head ached so intently he was certain it would pop. “I’ve done nothing but work towards your destruction since I was ten, when you fools trained your gun on me for daring to come home. You may have let me have Dressrosa, but only as long as it benefited you and when that came undone, you sent your Marine dogs after me. You couldn’t even leave me well enough alone in my cell without trying to silence me!”
Shamrock frowned, but his composure remained intact. “Perhaps you misunderstand the offer. We aren’t simply letting you work for the Celestial Dragons. By joining as a member of the God’s Knights, you would very well become reinstated as one yourself, including all the privileges and powers that come with it,” he explained cooly. He leaned down slightly as if speaking to a child. Doflamingo only noticed his own harsh breaths in the pause of sound as Shamrock studied him. He could feel his mask cracking.
“What exactly are you saying?” he asked. And if his voice wavered, Shamrock made no mention of it. He only grinned in triumph.
“You’ve satisfied yourself with being a King, now how about becoming a god?”