Chapter Text
Days of Wander
The wind was cold and sharp, like a thousand blades cutting against his skin.
Blood pooled out from his bullet wounds, echoing the final stand between two brothers.
Donquixote Doflamingo would never change, he would never love. Donquixote Rosinante tried his best to change the system from within as “Corazon”, but it wouldn’t work, his brother was just as stubborn as he was before at Mary Geoise.
Deny. Deny. Deny.
But it wouldn’t work. From the moment the bullet hit his flesh, his fate was sealed.
Nothing would change, things would still remain as it was, his brother a tyrant always.
Flesh and Blood. Family. His brother would never treat him as family, he never saw him as a brother. His flesh and blood. His so-called “family”, people he used. There was no love. (I love him, isn’t that enough?)
Donquixote Doflamingo is not family. (yet he is still his flesh, Rosinante still loved him, even if Doffy never loved him back).
His only real family was behind him, his child, one he’d die, for every lifetime, one he’d die for today. (He’d die for Doffy too, just the same way)
“Nothing will restrict you anymore. You are now...truly free” Rosinante whispered. Law was crying, he could sense it within his barriers.
Back against the treasure chest holding his dear family - oh Law, how his heart ached as sorrow filled him. He was leaving him, lost and alone. He wished he could have protected him better, and he was sad to be unable to see him grow up.
He could feel his soul slip as he reached out to comfort Law, to hold him, to tell him it was alright, but his voice was now gone and his body paralyzed.
He closed his eyes, as he felt his soul slip. 10.. 9.. 8.. 7..6..5..He didn’t even get to 3. Then, he opened his eyes.
There was a legend that the souls of the dead would stay in the world for 7 days to wander. 7 days a funeral, a ritual to the dead, to mourn. He had heard all about it in his youth: people holding a plaque for the dead, kneeling in front of it for seven days, putting delicacies to honor them, to let them feast.
He never thought it was real, but standing next to his body in this nonphysical, intangible state, he was proven wrong.
I’m dead, but I haven't disappeared.
His body was still lying in the snow, each bullet wound had a purplish hemorrhagic rim, several tiny punctuated abrasions in the skin surrounded the entry wounds, Gunpowder. Doffy must have been really mad.
Oh. Gods. Law.
Law was shaking, tears running down his face in rivulets. He was biting his fingers, fighting the scream. Trying to deny. Quiet sobs leaving him as he struggled with his denial.
Deny. Deny. Deny. (Just like he did, it wouldn’t work for him either)
Law climbed out of the chest, biting into the snow to hide his scream. It was instinctual, primal, more animalistic than human. A grief screech. Stop, please don’t cry for me. Smile for me. Please. Law stopped, he went to his body and curled up against him. Bloody and sticky. Not even warm. He was so small..
After a while, Law sat up, his lips tightly pressed together as he took his hands. He took his heart, Rosinante’s heart and love, now frozen by the winter. Rosinante smiled, Law could use his powers. He watched in wonder as Law slowly put the glowing bubble holding his heart behind him, giving whimpers as he felt the heart gone cold already. Law walked towards the docks, Rosinante followed.
Law reached the docks, clutching his heart, (adorably so), there was still snot on his nose, frozen into tiny icicles. Thankfully there was a boat, and Law left Minion Island.
Rosinante was unable to leave the island, there was still unfinished business, and Law had already left for his next adventure. (He could follow him of course. But he would rather stay with his Doffy)
He walked towards the mansion on the top of the hill, there was no people in this abandoned town, already cleared out by the Doflamingo “family”.
[[TW: Gore]]
Doflamingo was having a meeting at the mansion.
“Corazon has betrayed us, Law has gone with the marines, the Ope Ope no Mi gone with him. Vergo, you failed me.” Doflamingo sat on his chesterfield armchair, legs crossed on a table. He stared at the man kneeling in front of him, disappointment and anger evident by the deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.
The man on the floor, Vergo. Part of the marines he belonged to, a venerable vice admiral, yet just an underling of the Donquixote Pirates, he betrayed all the values of being a marine, as dishonest as they come. Now, seeing his face swollen with bruises and his torso cut with a thousand strings, on the floor, so subservient to Doflamingo, he felt no pity. Imagine being so pathetic in front of my brother.
“Tell me, did you know Corazon was a marine?” Doflamingo sneered. He flexed his wrist, strings once again taut against Vergo’s skin, making him wince as the strings cut into his wounds again.
“L-Lord Doflamingo! This servant is sorry for my negligence. I have committed unforgivable sins. I gladly accept whatever punishment you give!” Vergo wailed desperately.
Doflamingo took out a knife, “Cut off your leg. Any.” Vergo took the knife hesitantly. Glancing at his legs. “Carry on. I’m letting you choose which leg to cut off. Am I not merciful?”
Vergo raised his knife and cut off his right leg. Blood squirted out of the leg. “Y-yes you are very m-merciful today- my Lord-”
“Why thank you.” Doflamingo laughed, putting down his legs and leaning forward. “I’m pleased. Take your leg and leave.”
Vergo stumbled towards his leg, and left through the door, leaving a trail of blood.
“Disgusting.”
Rosinante watched as a servant came in to clean up the blood. Doflamingo had now stood up, face towards the window, watching the snow fall. Once the maid left, he took off his sunglasses.
Rosinante remembered when Doffy got his glasses. Ones to hide the eyes of a conqueror, the legacy of a bloodline that only occurred once in 5 centuries. He still remembered when Doflamingo sometimes left for “lessons” in Mary Geoise that left him bruised and bloody. He remembered when he always said he was fine and that Gods don’t need help. Rosinante knew from the bottom of his heart that Doffy was hurt, and in denial.
Deny. Deny. Deny. (The pain hits harder when you try to deny it)
Doffy was shaking. Was he crying? Grieving for him?
But he killed him.
He still loves me.
I don’t want to see him so sad.