Archive of Our Own

Doflamingo woke before dawn. Couldn't sleep. Too much energy coiled under his skin with nowhere to go.

He was in his office by six. Read through the overnight reports. Signed documents. Approved shipments. All with a smile on his face that sent every staff member in and out of his office with sweat running down their backs.

By nine he had sat through two meetings. The first with an explosives contractor who kept losing his train of thought because Doflamingo would not stop grinning. 

The second with a devil fruit broker who left the room visibly unsettled.

Unsure if the good mood meant he was safe or about to be executed.

By ten he had cancelled three afternoon meetings and rescheduled two more.

By noon the family knew something had happened. Nobody asked.

The afternoon was decidedly his.

He was pulsing with pride.

Another heir of his blood.

The remaining paperwork was finished with unusual haste before Doflamingo went to find his family.

Rosinante was propped against the headboard, reading to Rosalia from a picture book about sea beasts.

Rosalia leaned against his side, gnawing her fabric cube, looking at the book with faint interest.

Doflamingo sat on the edge of the bed.

Rosinante's eyebrows rose. "You're back early."

"I've cleared the afternoon."

Doflamingo wasn't just smiling. He had that devastatingly proud grin plastered to his face.

Rosinante still wasn't used to it.

Doflamingo smoothed a hand over Rosalia's hair. She giggled, pressing her face against Rosinante's stomach.

"She’s spending time with her sibling," Doflamingo murmured.

Before Rosinante could process the words, Doflamingo’s hand was already moving.

It slid from Rosalia’s hair, beneath the hem of Rosinante’s shirt, and flattened against the pale skin of his stomach.

"Doffy." Rosinante rolled his eyes. "She's five months old. She doesn't know anything."

"She’ll know soon."

He leaned in. His mouth found the sharp curve of Rosinante’s jaw.

Then it dropped lower, his tongue dragging a searing line against the pulse in his neck.

Rosinante swallowed a shaky breath.

Rosalia made a small noise of complaint at the abrupt interruption.

"Continue," Doflamingo said, low voice rumbling against Rosinante's skin. "Continue reading."

"This— this is a sea cow—"

Doflamingo's lips ghosted along his collar, thumb tracing idle circles against his belly.

"They swim fast—"

A kiss below his ear. "—have hardened skin."

Doflamingo's teeth grazed the tendon in his throat.

"Doffy." Barely a whisper.

"Mm."

"She's right here."

"Keep going."

"Sea cows—have sharp teeth." The book was wavering in Rosinante’s grip. "Rosalia, look. They’re really—big."

Rosalia stared at the bright illustration. The sea cow’s gold nose ring caught her attention. She reached for it at once, eyes wide with interest.

Doflamingo’s hand slid up, gripping the back of Rosinante’s head. Blonde strands caught in his fingers as he tilted him to the side.

The collar pulled taut, exposing the crook of his shoulder. Doflamingo pressed his mouth to the skin and sucked a fresh bruise there.

A soft moan escaped Rosinante. His head fell further to the side.

"Rosinante." Another kiss. "Don’t stop reading."

Rosinante steadied the book and turned the page with trembling fingers.

"This—this is a sea monkey—" Doflamingo lapped at the new bruise. "They have—they have powerful—flippers—"

Rosalia looked up from the book at the sound of Rosinante's voice going strange.

A kiss at the hollow of his neck. Doflamingo found a mark already there and sucked it darker.

Rosinante gave up on holding the book.

It slipped from his grip onto his thigh as his hand reached up to tangle in the front of Doflamingo’s shirt.

Doflamingo leaned in and Rosinante’s lips parted with a soft, defeated sigh.

Doflamingo’s mouth curled in satisfaction, fingers locked around Rosinante’s jaw. He angled him exactly where he wanted, thumb digging into his cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Rosalia swatted at a pink feather drifting across her face. Her bottom lip trembled.

Neither of them noticed.

The book slid off Rosinante's lap with a loud thud.

Rosalia shrieked. Her tiny face crumpling as she realised she had been thoroughly ignored.

They broke apart, breathing hard.

Doflamingo stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. A muscle working in his cheek.

Then he shook his head and laughed, breathless with disbelief. He reached down and scooped Rosalia up one-handed, swinging her onto his chest.

"Sorry, princess." He kissed her head. "Your father is terribly clumsy."

Rosinante slumped against the headboard.

“Doffy,” he pointed a finger at his own stomach. "We're just making more people who are going to interrupt us."

Doflamingo gently patted Rosalia’s back to soothe her. That arrogant smirk right back on his face.

"We're expanding our Donquixote bloodline, Rosinante," he corrected. "Not making people."

"You're insufferable."

Doflamingo swung his legs off the bed. Walked to the coat rack and snagged Rosalia's small feather coat.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going out."

"Out? Right now?"

"Yes."

"Doffy, she's too small. The streets are packed at this hour—"

"The streets belong to me. Nothing will happen to the three of you as long as I'm around."

He was already sliding her arms into the sleeves. "Get your coat."

Rosinante looked at him. The sheer, ridiculous, high-spirited energy radiating off his large frame.

He let out a resigned exhale and got his coat.

Rosinante had been worried about the crowd.

He needn't have been.

The upper town saw them first. Vendors calling, carts rolling, the ordinary noise of a bustling afternoon.

Then the pink feathers came into view and the crowd parted like water.

Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty.

The greetings rippled ahead of them, clearing the way.

Rosinante kept his head down.

Doflamingo's hand settled low on his back.

Rosinante glanced at him. He was scanning the street ahead, eyes tracking every doorway and corner, cutting through the crowds and vendors.

A cart rolled near and Doflamingo guided Rosinante to the side, his gaze unblinking and his hand pressing more firmly against his spine.

"Doffy," Rosinante mumbled softly. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."

Doflamingo's hand did not move.

Rosinante looked ahead at the perfectly clear street and the bowing citizens.

The sight made his skin crawl and his breath go uneven.

A woman selling lace pulled her children aside. A man unloading heavy wine barrels stopped mid-lift and held the position. Two old men at a café table stood and stayed standing until the King of Dressrosa passed, their legs trembling the whole time.

Then Rosinante saw her.

A young mother on the edge of the crowd, holding a baby. Rosalia's age, maybe. Her little round face peeked out from a wrap. The mother bowed low, one arm locked around the child, pulling the baby's head down with her.

Forcing the tiny body to fold in half.

The baby made a sound of protest. The mother's hand clamped over its mouth, muffling the sound, pressing her head down further.

Holding the bow until Doflamingo passed.

Rosinante closed his eyes and kept walking.

A few meters ahead, a small boy was bowing. Head down, one hand clutching a bright wooden pull-toy.

Rosalia saw it.

Her arm went out, fingers pointing, and she let out an insistent babble. The sound she made when she wanted something.

The boy dropped the toy with shaking hands. It rolled a few feet away from him.

Rosinante stopped walking and quickly reached over.

He took Rosalia from Doflamingo's chest, pulling her against his own. Cutting off the babble before it could even finish.

Doflamingo shot him a questioning look, then followed Rosalia's fingers to the toy.

He felt Rosinante's back go stiff under his palm.

"No, Rosalia," Rosinante whispered, staring straight at Doflamingo. "That's not yours."

Doflamingo looked at him and saw it clearly. Dread, plain and unmistakable, all over his face.

Rosalia's arm was still reaching back, fingers opening and closing, her small body arching towards the bright thing she somehow couldn't have.

Doflamingo's hand moved to Rosinante's shoulder and squeezed once.

"There's a toy shop on the next street," he said. "She can pick her own."

Rosinante nodded as he felt the knot in his chest slowly unravel.

The toy shop was on a quiet street. Painted shutters, stuffed animals in the window.

Doflamingo had walked past it several times. Never had a reason to enter.

The bell chimed. The owner looked up and the colour left his face.

"Y-Your Majesty—"

"Continue as you were." Doflamingo was already moving down the first aisle.

The owner did not continue as he was. He stayed in a low bow while standing stiffly at the counter.

Wooden shelves were stacked with every shape and colour. Soft blocks. Stuffed animals in rows. A wall of rattles. Puzzles of all sorts.

Rosalia's eyes went wide. Her head turned. Left. Right. Left again.

Her body vibrated with a low, urgent sound. Like a tiny engine revving before takeoff.

“Doffy, you bought her twenty toys last month. She plays with two.”

"Exactly," Doflamingo said, taking her back into his arms. "She's unsatisfied. We should let her pick ones that she likes."

He carried her down the aisle, slow enough for her to take everything in.

A wooden teething ring. She gummed it once. Dropped it.

A stuffed rabbit. She pulled its ear. Lost interest.

Her eyes flickered and she saw it.

A small fabric cat. Cream with brown patches and stitched button eyes. Designed for exactly what she was about to do.

She reached for it. Doflamingo held it steady for her.

Her small hand came forward and closed around the fabric.

Crinkle.

Rosalia froze. Her eyes went huge. Her mouth formed a perfect, stunned circle.

She pressed it again. Crinkle.

Her head whipped around to Rosinante.

Crinkle.

Rosinante leaned in to cup her chubby cheek. He brushed his thumb against her skin, smiling as he watched her face light up.

"Yes, Rosi, I heard it."

She crinkled it again, harder. Then turned her whole body towards Doflamingo, the cat clutched in both hands, pressing it beside his ear.

Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.

Her expression was so pure and earnest. As if the crinkle were a great discovery she had to share with him personally.

"She's showing me," Doflamingo whispered, the proudest smile tugging his lips.

Doflamingo pressed the cat once. Crinkle. Rosalia's whole face broke into a gummy grin.

"We're taking this one."



Doflamingo paused at a display of squeeze toys. Rubber animals in bright colours. A duck. A pig. A dog.

And a frog. Bright green with bulging eyes. A wide, cartoonish mouth.

He saw Rosalia staring at it and he picked it up.

"Rosalia. Look."

She looked at the frog.

“Remember the frog? Ribbit ribbit.”

He squeezed the frog.

The eyes shot outward, two protruding orbs launching from its face.

Rosalia screamed. The piercing sound bounced off every single wall in the shop.

She drove herself against Doflamingo’s chest and buried her face in his neck. Her whole body shaking in terror.

Doflamingo looked at the frog, then at his baby against his throat.

He laughed loudly.

"Rosinante, she—"

"Doffy." Rosinante bit his lip to stop his own smile. "You scared her."

"The toy did what the toy was designed to do."

"She's terrified."

Doflamingo looked down. Small, broken sobs were muffled in the crook of his neck. Tiny shoulders were shaking.

He could not stop laughing.

“Rosalia, look.” He tapped her shoulder.

She pulled back with a frown, lower lip still jutting out.

Doflamingo threw the frog to the back of the shelf. It knocked down several other rubber toys.

"The frog is dead, princess." Still laughing. "The frog will never trouble you again."

Rosalia let out a frustrated wail and looked past him, found Rosinante, and reached with both hands. Her whole body arched towards him, fingers opening and closing in frantic little grabs.

Rosinante took her. She pressed her wet face into his shoulder, one hand in his shirt, the other still gripping the cat.

The crying started to ease.

Rosinante gently wiped her tears away.

"She’s upset that you laughed at her," Rosinante said.

"She is adorable."

"Frogs are her favourite animal.” Rosinante combed her messy fringe back with his fingers. “Don’t use them against her.”

Rosalia had mostly recovered and was crinkling the cat against his shirt with small hiccups. 

Doflamingo went to the low rack of fabric crinkle toys. Looked through the different animals before he found it.

A frog with stitched eyes that could not move.

"Rosalia. Look."

Her face stayed in Rosinante's shoulder. One hand still squeezing the cat.

Doflamingo pressed the frog. Crinkle.

Her hand stopped moving.

He pressed it again. Crinkle. Crinkle.

Her head turned. The smallest tilt towards the sound. Then she pressed her face harder into Rosinante's shoulder.

Doflamingo stood frozen, arm extended, fabric frog still clutched in his hand. His daughter actively refusing to acknowledge his existence.

"She's ignoring me."

"Yes. You deserve it."

Doflamingo’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting between the back of Rosalia's head and Rosinante’s amused expression.

His mouth formed a thin, tight line.

Rosinante ducked his head, fighting to keep his shoulders steady as he suppressed a laugh.

"We're taking both," Doflamingo said.

A small shop came into view. There was no signage, only a faded canopy with racks of linens and soft cottons being displayed.

Hanging from the lowest rack, swaying in the breeze, was a frog blanket.

Bright green cotton with a gigantic frog in the center, surrounded by lily pads and other smaller frogs.

Ridiculous. The kind of thing that had no business in the palace.

The flash of green caught Rosalia first. Her whole body leaned towards it. A loud babble poured out of her.

Doflamingo was already moving.

The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with glasses on a chain, looked up. She saw the pink feathers and went still.

"How much?"

"Please, Your Majesty, it's an honour—"

He tossed five thousand beli on the counter and walked back.

He held the blanket up between them, letting the frog face sway in front of Rosalia.

"Rosalia." She looked at the blanket, then at him. "You want it, you come to me."

Her face turned away slowly, cheek pressed into Rosinante’s shoulder.

But her eyes tracked the blanket.

Every sway. Every flutter.

Her foot shot out in irritation and caught Rosinante in his stomach, irritated that she couldn't have what she wanted.

Doflamingo lifted her from Rosinante immediately.

The cry came instantly, aimed straight at him. Her arms reached back towards Rosinante, her whole body pulling away from Doflamingo.

“Rosalia, enough.”

Doflamingo draped the frog blanket over her. The crying vanished in three gasping breaths.

Her hands came down. They touched the green cotton and found the frog's face. Her fingers curled into it.

“Do not kick your father.”

She peeked up at Doflamingo, lashes still wet, face still blotchy. Then tucked her face into his collar with the blanket held between them.

Doflamingo's arm tightened around her. He looked at Rosinante over her head.

Rosinante rubbed his stomach once. “It’s fine, Doffy.” He gestured down the street. “Shall we head back? It’s almost her feeding time.”

“One last stop.”

The junior store staff appeared, then disappeared, only to return with the jewelry store's most senior manager.

She bowed low to greet them, before remaining at a polite distance.

Rosinante accepted the chair offered to him. A small dish of candied citrus was placed at his side.

He settled in, the frog blanket draping over his knees, while Doflamingo moved through the displays with Rosalia on his arm.

Her head swiveled from case to case, one palm pressed against Doflamingo's cheek while the other reached out to show her father what caught her eye.

Doflamingo hummed in acknowledgment, pointing out the different jewelry to her in a soft voice he used for nobody else.

Rosinante chewed a slice of candied orange.

"One thing," he said.

Doflamingo looked at the six items already laid out on the counter.

"Three."

"She's a baby."

"She's my daughter."

Doflamingo adjusted Rosalia slightly higher on his arm to whisper in her ear.

"Your father is being unreasonable."

Rosalia seemed to consider his words seriously before patting Doflamingo's cheek.

"One," Rosinante insisted.

Doflamingo ignored him and scanned the cases until his eyes landed on a far display. "That too."

The manager swiftly handed Doflamingo a delicate gold chain featuring a tiny rose charm and a bell no larger than a fingernail, sized for an infant's ankle.

"Doffy—"

"When she starts crawling, we'll need to hear her," Doflamingo said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "And it’s safe. She can’t get it in her mouth."

He shook the anklet, letting the rose charm clink against the bell. "Her name is Rosalia. She needs this."

Rosinante stared at him. Doflamingo held his gaze.

"...Fine."

Rosinante stood to stretch his legs while Doflamingo occupied himself at the counter.

He wandered towards the far end of the shop.

Most of the displays were bright and beautifully decorated to draw the eye, but one piece had been set apart in a case of its own.

It wasn't well-lit or prominently displayed. If anything, it seemed almost hidden.

A necklace.

The pendant was small, an intricate silver heart wrapped around a dark stone at its center.

Rosinante's eyes traced the silverwork. The details seemed endless. Every curve flowed into the next, weaving together seamlessly.

Doflamingo’s jewelry was always loud. Heavy gold and extravagant gemstones.

Rosinante had grown up beside that and learned early on that it wasn't for him.

He never wore jewelry. He never even thought about it.

Yet, he remained anchored in place, eyes fixed on the dark stone.

He was still staring at it when a delighted shriek made him turn.

Rosalia was wearing a gold crown.

It was tiny. Tilted slightly as she patted it with both hands, confirming it was still there.

Doflamingo watched her, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

"We're getting this," he said. "The rest I can leave. But this. She chose it herself."

Rosinante took in the sight.

The tiny pink feather coat. Her father’s pale red eyes peeking out beneath the gold crown she had apparently decided was hers.

"She’s the Princess of Dressrosa," Doflamingo added. "She should look like one."

Rosinante shook his head. There was no point in arguing with the inevitable.

He simply took Rosalia from him, letting Doflamingo handle the payment.

He sat back in the chair, adjusting the crown into place. Rosalia immediately knocked it askew again.

"You have your father's taste," he told her.

She grabbed his finger.

"You have his eyes." He studied her face. "I carried you for nine months, and you have nothing of mine."

He reached out and gently pinched the tip of her nose.

She laughed her full-bodied, gummy laugh that took over her whole face.

Then suddenly, Doflamingo appeared. He scooped her up without a word, and walked to the large window near the door.

The manager approached Rosinante with a polite smile.

"Sir. One more item."

Rosinante turned to Doflamingo. "We agreed—"

"This piece is not for sale."

She set a small box on the counter. Inside was the silver necklace.

When the light from the window hit the stone, it shifted between deep purple and black.

Rosinante froze, his breath hitching.

"This was commissioned," she explained. "By the King." She lifted the neckalce with both hands.

"The design is his. He sent references, extremely detailed ones." She moved the heart-shaped pendant, showing the details of the curves.

“The stone was His Majesty's personal selection as well. He came in three times before he was satisfied."

Rosinante looked across the shop.

Doflamingo was pointing at something in the street, his back towards them. Then, for a second, his eyes moved sideways.

Rosinante caught it.

Doflamingo looked away at once.

“There is a second stone,” the manager added, turning the pendant over to reveal a small, brilliant pink gem.

She placed it back on the velvet.

“His Majesty was very specific about the placement,” she said, touching the back of it lightly, “so that when worn, it rests against the heart.”

She paused, tipping her head towards the window.

"His Majesty's words, sir."

Rosinante pressed his fingers over his mouth, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes.

"Would you like me to help you put it on?"

"No," Doflamingo answered, from behind Rosinante's shoulder. He picked up the necklace and leaned in to clasp it.

His fingers lingered at the nape of Rosinante’s neck, lightly touching the chain before he stepped back to see the result.

The pendant rested perfectly at the center of Rosinante’s chest.

Doflamingo’s eyes tracked the way the stone caught the light, then they moved up, locking onto Rosinante’s watery gaze.

Rosalia reached out, her tiny hand grabbing the pendant.

"No," both of them said.

She let go, startled by the unison. Doflamingo redirected her hand back to his coat.

Rosinante looked down at the pendant, tracing the silver heart with his thumb. He wiped the stray tear from his cheek and tucked the necklace inside his shirt.

By the time they returned to the room, the sky was bleeding into orange.

Doflamingo set the paper bags on the floor. Then his hand came up to stroke Rosalia's cheek.

She had fussed the whole way back. Hungry and thoroughly exhausted by her first shopping trip.

Rosalia stirred at the touch, lifting her head from his shoulder. She looked around the familiar room and broke into a loud wail.

Doflamingo rocked her lightly while he made the milk.

"Put the things away," Doflamingo said, already settling into the chair. "I'll handle her."

Rosalia took the bottle greedily with both hands, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Rosinante moved through the room in a daze. He had not left the palace in so long that just a few hours in the crowded streets had left him completely drained.

He put the toys away first. The frog crinkle into Rosalia's toy chest, the cat crinkle into her cot so she could easily reach for it.

The frog blanket was folded and carefully draped over the cot rail where she could see it.

With a huff, he sat on the bed. His head was still swimming.

“Tired?” Doflamingo asked.

"For some reason, yes." Rosinante’s hands ghosted lightly over his stomach. He stretched his stiff arms before standing up again.

He picked up the jewelry bag and took out the crown box and the anklet box, tucking them away at the top of his cupboard.

Then the empty box for his necklace.

Or so he thought.

Folded inside the box was a receipt envelope.

He opened it.

Inside was the order form. Design specifications, stone selections, detailed references. Doflamingo’s precise instructions in the staff’s careful handwriting.

He looked at the date.

Nearly eight months ago.

Before the betrayal came to light. Before the blood-stained walls of the execution room. Before the gun in Doflamingo's pocket.

Before Rosalia was even born.

A sharp inhale escaped his throat.

His eyes started to fill. Far too quick for him to fight back the tears.

He walked across the room and stopped before Doflamingo, holding the paper out, his trembling finger beside the date.

Doflamingo looked at the ink.

His eyes dropped to Rosalia, sucking sleepily at her bottle against his chest.

“It was meant to be a gift,” he whispered. “For when you gave birth.”

Rosinante stood there, shaking. Clutching a scrap of paper that proved Doflamingo had loved him long before he had ever been able to believe it.

"The stone had difficulty passing through customs," Doflamingo said, lifting the empty bottle from Rosalia’s lips. "So the shipment was delayed."

He set the empty bottle on the side table and reached up, closing his hand around Rosinante's wrist.

"It only arrived last week."

Rosinante nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He lifted his sleeve to wipe the tears away.

"Rosinante. Stop crying so much." Doflamingo's thumb brushed over his pulse point. "It's not good for the—"

"It's the hormones," Rosinante choked out.

“…Alright.”