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Rosinante woke up on his side, facing the balcony.
The sky was still dark. He didn't need to turn around to know Doflamingo had left.
A letter sat on the bedside table, held down beneath a cup of ginger tea.
Steam still drifted from the surface. Doflamingo couldn't have left long ago.
Rosinante pushed himself upright and hurried to the balcony, leaning over the railing.
The unmistakable silhouette of the Numancia Flamingo was already reduced to a dark smudge against the horizon.
His shoulders sagged.
He returned to the bed and picked up the letter.
Rosinante.
By the time you read this, I would have left with most of the Family.
Pica's Army officers have stayed behind to ensure your safety.
There will be additional staff stationed outside your room as well.
Tegata will come to the palace for your appointments.
I do not want you to leave the palace while I am gone.
Take care of yourself until I return.
— D
Rosinante's vision blurred. Even though the letter wasn't even emotional, more like a list of instructions.
He rolled onto Doflamingo's side of the bed and drew in a deep breath.
The pillows still carried the faint scent of him.
Rosinante shoved his face in them and let his tears fall.
He woke a few hours later to the sound of Rosalia crying for milk.
A soft knock came through the door before he could even sit up.
"Come in," Rosinante murmured, already knowing it was Mila.
She stepped inside with a polite smile and paused beside the cot.
"Good morning, Cora-san. Would you like me to handle Lady Rosalia's morning feed?"
A sour taste rose at the back of Rosinante’s throat just as he shook his head.
He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.
“It’s okay, Mila.” He gripped the sheets and swallowed it down. “I can handle it.”
Without a word, Mila picked up the cup of lukewarm ginger tea from the bedside table and brought it to him.
Rosinante took a shaky sip, most of it spilling down his neck.
"Cora-san," Mila said gently, "please rest and let me take care of Lady Rosalia."
She lifted Rosalia from the cot and carried her towards the tray table of milk powder and bottles.
The moment Rosalia spotted Rosinante, she reached both arms towards him. Fresh tears spilled down her round cheeks.
Rosinante sighed and took another sip.
"Mila," he murmured, "hand her to me while you make the bottle."
"Of course."
Rosalia settled into his arms almost immediately. Her tiny fingers found the damp patch on his shirt where the tea had spilled, opening and closing against the wet fabric.
Her cries faded into soft sniffles.
A moment later, she was babbling happily at him instead. Little palms prodding at Rosinante’s face and neck.
“Good morning, Rosi.”
Rosinante managed the smallest smile despite the heaviness in his chest.
Doflamingo called the first night.
It was late. Later than Rosinante had expected, which meant the crossing had been more complicated than he thought.
Rosinante answered on the first ring.
"Rosinante."
The Den Den Mushi made Doflamingo's voice sound impossibly flat.
"Doffy."
The line was silent except for static noises.
"How was the crossing?" Rosinante asked.
"Difficult. It'll take more than a week to reach Vespa."
"I see."
"You read my letter."
"Yes."
"You’re not allowed to leave the palace."
"Doffy, I read the letter."
"Good."
"How is Dr. Tegata going to conduct the checkup here?"
"That is his concern, not mine."
"Doffy."
"How are you feeling—"
A voice from the back was calling for Doflamingo. Señor Pink’s.
"You're busy." Rosinante frowned.
"I have three minutes."
The shouting in the back escalated.
"You don't have three minutes."
"Rosinante—"
"Go," Rosinante said. "It's fine."
He heard the receiver get muffled, the muddled sound of Doflamingo barking an order back, and then, "I’ll call tomorrow."
The line went dead before Rosinante could say anything else.
He set the receiver down and stared at it for a moment.
He knew it wasn't fair to be upset. Vespa was a long way from Dressrosa, and the crossing was notoriously dangerous at this time of year.
He knew this.
He still felt the sting of it anyway.
The next call came two days later.
"Rosinante."
His voice was scratchy.
“You didn’t call yesterday.”
“There was a situation yesterday.”
Doflamingo cleared his throat. Rosinante could hear the shuffle of papers on his end.
"Anyway, Umit responded."
Rosinante sat up straighter. "And?"
"Thirty-nine, like you said. He pushed for thirty-eight before I'd even finished my sentence."
"Told you."
"You did." Amusement crept into his voice, audible under the exhaustion.
"The contracts are nearly ready. I want you to review them."
Rosinante blinked. "Me?"
"Yes. Make sure you see it through. I'll have the papers sent to the palace."
A small smile tugged at Rosinante’s lips.
"Okay, I'll have it done within the day."
"Good." Doflamingo's voice softened almost imperceptibly. "I expected nothing less, Corazon."
The calls started slipping once Doflamingo arrived in Vespa.
Two days between the next one. Sometimes three.
The calls grew shorter every time. Doflamingo's voice was distant, as though only half his attention was on the conversation.
There was always noise behind him. Shouting. Footsteps. Gunshots.
Rosinante stopped asking about Vespa.
He stopped asking when Doflamingo was coming back.
Eventually, he stopped asking anything at all.
He just sat on the bed with the receiver pressed against his ear and listened to whatever Doflamingo had to say. Which was never much.
"Rosinante, I'm still alive."
"Good."
"How are you and the babies?"
"Fine."
"Is everything alright at the palace?"
"Yes."
"Alright. I have to go."
"Okay."
Click.
The morning sickness started the same week.
It came every morning like clockwork. Rosinante would bend over the toilet until his stomach was empty, rinse his mouth, and carry on with his day.
Then it stopped being just mornings.
It struck in the afternoons while he played with Rosalia. In the evenings while he read to her.
The nights were the worst.
He would sit on the bed with his back against the headboard, facing the Den Den Mushi on the nightstand.
Watching it. Waiting for it to ring.
The room would grow dark. Rosinante stopped lighting the lamp.
The only sounds were Rosalia's soft breathing and the staff changing shifts outside his door.
He waited.
The Den Den Mushi never rang.
He waited anyway.
His eyes would sting. His stomach would churn. He would feel the sour taste creeping up the back of his throat and swallow it down.
He told himself he'd go to sleep after the call.
But the call wouldn't come.
So he stayed seated upright, fingers clasped tightly together, praying to any god willing to listen that his brother was still alive and well.
Mila would find him like that in the mornings. Body slumped sideways, face turned towards the Den Den Mushi.
She stopped knocking after Rosinante stopped waking up to it.
“Cora-san.”
Mila came in holding a small pile of Rosalia’s laundry.
Rosinante looked up from the floor. His hands were under Rosalia’s arms. She was bouncing on the mat.
“Dr. Tegata is waiting for you in the second room down the corridor.”
Mila set the folded clothes in the cabinet and came over to take Rosalia.
“Oh. Okay.” He stood up, stretching his sore body and made his way over.
The unused storage room had turned into a makeshift doctor’s office.
He sat on the examination table.
Dr. Tegata looked at him. The hollowed cheeks. The dark circles so deep they looked bruised.
He let out a long sigh.
"Rosinante." He started pulling his instruments from his bag. “You look terrible.”
Rosinante flinched at the harsh words.
"I'm fine."
"You certainly do not look fine.”
Rosinante didn't answer.
Dr. Tegata gestured for him to take off his shirt and lie back.
Rosinante lay back and closed his eyes. He became acutely aware of the fingers tracing every single curve of his ribs.
He cracked one eye open. Dr. Tegata was staring at him with a deep frown.
Dr. Tegata’s hands moved across his stomach, pressing and feeling. Then he placed the cool bell of the stethoscope to his lower abdomen, listening carefully before nodding.
"The baby is healthy," he said. "It has developed a heartbeat. Development seems to be on track."
Rosinante exhaled. He hadn’t realized his fists were clenched.
"But you are not." Dr. Tegata prodded his protruding ribs. "You've lost weight. Your pulse is elevated, indicating high levels of stress."
Rosinante stared at the ceiling.
"Stress affects the baby, Rosinante. And I believe I have mentioned that you need to increase your intake."
"Okay," Rosinante mumbled.
Dr. Tegata studied him. Then he shook his head and handed Rosinante his shirt.
"I'll come back in two weeks. Inform me if you're unable to keep food down."
Dr. Tegata left.
Rosinante got dressed and walked towards his room.
Mila was on the floor, trying to coax Rosalia onto her feet.
Rosalia wobbled on unsteady legs before collapsing into giggles.
Mila glanced up as Rosinante appeared in the doorway.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile.
Rosinante tried to smile back. The corners of his mouth wouldn’t lift.
He turned back and walked to Doflamingo’s bedroom instead.
He climbed into the empty bed, pulled the covers over himself, and went to sleep.
He didn't call Doflamingo to tell him about the appointment. Didn't mention the weight loss. The elevated pulse. The fact that the morning sickness had spread to every hour of the day.
There was no point.
The call came the same night.
Rosinante was already in bed. Eyes closed.
The Den Den Mushi rang.
He used his devil fruit to form a silent bubble over Rosalia so she wouldn't wake up.
He stared at the Den Den Mushi and let it continue ringing.
Then he finally reached over and picked it up.
"Rosinante."
Doflamingo's voice was sharp.
"Yes."
"Why did I have to hear about your appointment from Tegata?"
Rosinante kept silent.
"He called me. About the checkup. You haven't told me a single thing about the pregnancy since I left."
Each word was clipped.
"I had to find out through Tegata that my pregnant brother has lost so much weight his ribs are showing. That his pulse is elevated. That he's under constant stress."
"Doffy—"
"Rosinante. Why didn't you tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"There is everything to tell. You are carrying my child and you are not well—"
"I’m fine," Rosinante said, keeping his voice as even as he could.
"Is this because I didn't call every day? I told you. I'd call whenever I could. I told you—"
"You told me a lot of things, Doffy. You told me four weeks. It’s the third week and you’re not even on the way back."
Silence stretched between them.
“I’m going to call Tegata to change your appointments to weekly.”
"You have time to call Tegata," Rosinante whispered, "but no time to call me."
Rosinante could hear the frustrated exhale through Doflamingo’s teeth.
Then suddenly, the sour taste surged up the back of Rosinante's throat.
He swallowed once. Twice.
He dropped the receiver and barely made it to the bathroom before he was sick.
He gripped the rim of the toilet and pressed his forehead against the porcelain.
Breathing slowly, until he managed to get up to rinse his mouth.
He walked back to the bed and stared at the receiver on the floor.
He sat on the edge of the bed and picked it up.
Doflamingo was still on the line.
"You didn't tell me the morning sickness had started," Doflamingo said, voice softer now.
"There's no point."
"You have to tell me these things."
"What for? You can't do anything about it from Vespa."
"You don't get to decide what I should know, Rosinante." Doflamingo spat out.
Rosinante didn't respond.
"Rosinante. Answer me."
"What do you want me to say, Doffy?"
"I want you to tell me things. Anything. Tell me what's wrong."
"You're not here."
"I'm trying—"
"You're not here." Rosinante repeated it softly. "Every night, I wait for your call. Most nights, it never comes. I just sit here in the dark, sick with worry that something's happened to you—"
His hand pressed against his stomach.
"I can't keep waiting and worrying, Doffy. Dr. Tegata said no stress," he finished. Barely above a whisper.
Doflamingo didn't reply for a long time. Rosinante could only hear his heavy breathing.
"I'll call you every day," he said finally.
"Don't—"
"Rosinante—"
"Don't promise that. You already promised four weeks and—"
The line crackled.
"I have to go," Doflamingo said.
"Of course you do."
Rosinante sat at the desk with Umit's signed contract spread out before him.
His gaze traced each line, making sure no clause had been altered.
He should have been elated. He had secured an exceptionally good deal. It would bring the Family a massive profit.
He couldn't find it in him to be happy. His eyes had gone unfocused instead, the words blurring into grey lines.
He set the papers on the table and pressed the heel of his palms into both eyes. It was the fourth week already. Doflamingo was still in Vespa.
Then he felt something brush against his feet.
He looked under the table.
Rosalia was there.
Looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her small hands flat on the floor, little body raised slightly off the ground.
Rosalia, who was supposed to be six feet away on her mat.
“ROSALIA.”
Rosinante dropped to his knees so quickly he struck his head against the edge of the desk.
He scooped her up and buried her against his chest, smothering kisses all over her hair and face.
She giggled and squirmed in his arms.
He pressed another kiss to her cheek and looked up, the widest grin on his face.
The room was empty.
No one was there to witness this milestone with him.
Rosinante held her tighter and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Grin fading into her blonde locks.
Breathing her in as though it could quiet the ache in his heart.
Doflamingo called at night, sometimes very late, but he called every day.
"Rosinante."
"Mmm."
"You're tired. Should we talk another time?"
"No. I want to hear your voice." His words were slow, heavy with sleep.
"Alright. How are you feeling today? I heard the contracts are settled."
"Yes. Everything's been finalized."
"You didn't answer me. How are you feeling today?"
Rosinante sat up and poured himself a cup of tea. The first sip chased some of the sleep away.
"Nauseous, still?"
"I'm managing," Rosinante replied. "Rosalia crawled today."
"What?!"
"Quite a distance too. She made it all the way from her mat to my desk while I was checking the contracts."
Rosinante smiled as he looked over at the small shape of his daughter sleeping in her cot, her tiny chest rising and falling.
"Rosinante, you should've called me immediately."
"I thought you might've been in the middle of something."
Doflamingo's voice became muffled. He was giving someone instructions.
"Doffy." Rosinante's voice was small. "It's the fourth week."
More muffled voices.
"Rosinante. One more week. Then I'll head back to Dressrosa."
"That's what you said last week."
This time, Doflamingo didn't even bother covering the receiver. His shouting was so loud that the receiver quivered in Rosinante's hand.
Rosinante took another sip of his tea.
The shouting hadn't stopped.
Doflamingo was genuinely busy. He shouldn't keep asking him to come home.
"Rosinante. I have to go."
"Okay. Take care."
The days came and went.
Doflamingo’s absence was not only felt by Rosinante.
Rosinante was on the bed with Rosalia.
Every time a shadow slipped beneath the gap under the door, her head would turn.
Whenever the door opened, she would push herself up onto her arms and look.
Her face would fall when it wasn't him.
It happened again with Mila. Again with the staff bringing lunch. Again with the guard notifying Rosinante that they would be changing shifts.
Every single time.
She was looking for Doflamingo.
Rosinante watched her, a pregnancy book open in his lap that he hadn't read in twenty minutes.
Another shadow passed beneath the door.
Rosalia's head snapped towards it. She pushed herself upright, pale red eyes fixed on the door.
The door stayed closed.
She slowly settled back down on her stomach and frowned at Rosinante.
Rosinante's throat tightened. He lowered his eyes to the book.
He mentioned it to Doflamingo that night during their call.
"Rosalia keeps looking at the door. Every time someone walks past, she thinks it's you."
Rosinante swallowed before continuing.
"Then she looks at me with the biggest frown like it’s my fault.”
He heard Doflamingo exhale softly.
"I miss her too."
Rosalia stirred beside him.
She had fallen asleep while he was reading to her, and he'd let her stay on the bed rather than wake her.
At the sound of Doflamingo's voice, she blinked awake.
Her head turned towards the receiver.
She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself up on her arms, and let out an excited squeal.
Rosinante's eyes widened. He quickly held the receiver close to her.
She babbled loudly. Her arms trembled and she went down, flopping back onto the mattress. Her face scrunched with effort as though she was trying to say something very important.
The corners of Rosinante's lips lifted into a fond smile.
"Did you hear your daughter?” he asked, pressing the receiver back to his ear. "She’s complaining about how much she misses her father."
"Is that so?" Doflamingo let out a soft chuckle. "Tell her she's not the only one."
His voice dropped an octave before he spoke again.
"I miss her father too."
Rosinante's face went warm. The blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
He pressed his palm against his burning skin.
Rosalia reached for the receiver, apparently not done with her complaints. He let her grab it. She held it with both hands and babbled directly into it.
Doflamingo stayed silent, listening to his daughter for the first time in five weeks.
It had been raining for days.
Light showers that never seemed to end.
Then at last, the skies turned violent.
A deafening crack of thunder shook the palace. Lightning split the sky.
Rosalia screamed, trembling from head to toe. Mila, who had been feeding her on her lap, jumped as well.
Rosinante rushed out of the bathroom. Water still clung to his skin, dripping from his hair and soaking through his clothes.
"Cora-san. She's fine." Mila had already set the small bowl of carrot purée aside. She rocked Rosalia gently in her arms. "She was frightened by the thunder."
Rosalia had buried her face in Mila's neck, her cries showing no sign of easing. Mila rubbed slow circles over her back.
Rosinante covered the room in a silent bubble, shutting out the storm.
His breathing was still uneven. The last time he'd heard Rosalia scream like this was when she'd been frightened by him and Doflamingo arguing over the letter.
"Cora-san." Mila waited until he looked at her. "Please dry yourself first. It's cold today." Her gaze lowered to his drenched shirt. "You still have the little one to take care of."
Rosinante glanced down.
The fabric of his shirt was completely plastered against his body.
The skin of his stomach was already turning cold.
"I can't leave Vespa. Not yet."
"Is it the weather?" Rosinante asked, looking out at the dark sky.
He sat in the armchair with Rosalia asleep against his chest.
"No. More resistance showed up. The locals here can't seem to mind their own business."
"Mmm."
"It's mostly handled. Just a few more days, I promise. Then I'll leave Vespa."
"Alright."
"Rosinante. Tegata said you're doing better."
"You didn't have to confirm with him. I told you I'm managing."
"Eight weeks pregnant now. Are you showing yet?"
"Showing?" Rosinante asked incredulously. He rested his palm against the flat plane of his stomach. "No. Of course not."
"Good." Doflamingo let out a relieved sigh. "I don't want to miss that."
"Then come home soon."
"I will. You know I will."
Rosinante's fingers brushed Rosalia's cheek, tinged pink from the cold.
"I don't know anymore, Doffy. A few more days and you'll have been gone six weeks when you said four."
"I can't predict these things, Rosinante."
Rosinante heard the frustration in his voice and felt his own anger rising.
"Then stop making promises you can't keep," he muttered harshly.
He heard the receiver creaking in Doflamingo's hand.
"Rosinante."
"Stop it."
His own grip tightened around the receiver.
"I don't want to hear any more lies."
Rosinante could hear Doflamingo's breathing turn ragged.
"Fine."
Click.
The line went dead.
Doflamingo didn't call the next day.
Rosinante stared at the silent Den Den Mushi the entire night.
Another promise broken.
The rain had finally stopped.
Rosinante woke up to the warmth of the sunlight.
It must have been almost noon. The sun was already high overhead.
He had only managed to fall asleep at dawn, after convincing himself Doflamingo wasn't going to call.
His eyes moved from the ceiling to Rosalia in her cot, before settling on the windows.
He was sick of staring at the same four walls.
Rising from the bed, Rosinante changed out of his sleep clothes and lifted Rosalia from the cot.
He walked to the kitchen where Mila was dicing fruits.
"Mila. I'm taking Rosalia to the garden."
"Of course. I'll bring some snacks over."
"Thank you."
The garden door opened onto bright light.
Rosinante breathed in.
It was the first air that hadn't come through a window in more than a month.
He found the bench near the back. The one partially shielded so that the sun wouldn't hit them too hard.
Mila appeared with a small tray. Sliced fruit. Rosalia's wafer snack. A cup of tea.
"Thank you, Mila."
She set the tray beside him and retreated back to the palace.
Rosinante cut the sliced peach into smaller pieces with the fruit knife before mashing one with the back of his fork.
He held it out to Rosalia.
She immediately grabbed at the fork with both hands, trying to shove it into her mouth.
Rosinante smiled and slowly guided it to her mouth.
Rosalia was impatient. Her hands moved to grab at the fruit directly.
Rosinante laughed softly and fed her another bite.
After a few more, he glanced down. His shirt was covered in mashed peach.
"Rosalia," he said with a tender smile, "look at the mess you made."
Rosalia's giggles and Rosinante's soft laughter drifted through the serene, still garden.
For the first time in weeks, the tightness in Rosinante's chest loosened.
Then something in the air caught his attention.
The figure landed at the far end of the garden path. Large white wings folded back, transforming into hands.
Tall. Lanky. Long dark hair.
Rosinante dropped the fork and stood up.
He knew that figure.
Giberson's party. The man Umit had been talking to.
The one whose deal Rosinante had stolen.
The man caught his eye. His smile spread wide across his face.
He started walking towards them.
Rosinante's blood went cold.
"I've received news that your King is out of town." The man kept walking.
Rosinante's fingers snapped. He shifted Rosalia behind him. One arm locked around her, pressing her small body against his back.
Rosalia squirmed, her face scrunching in confusion. Her mouth opened but no sound came out.
"Are you one of his men?"
Rosinante didn't answer.
The man was getting close now.
"GLADIUS!" Rosinante shouted. "BUFFALO!"
A head poked out from the palace's window. Baby 5. Her eyes went wide and she immediately transformed her arm into a shotgun.
It was too late.
Rosinante felt it.
Hot. Sharp. Raw.
He looked down at the fruit knife wedged into his flesh. The man's smile was suddenly inches away from his face.
"Listen, pretty boy. Tell your boss not to meddle with my affairs."
The man twisted the knife and drove it into him harder.
"Tell him Laffitte came to leave a message—"
Laffitte looked up.
Gladius reached the garden first. Both hands up, a blast already forming.
Laffitte stepped back, still grinning. His arms turned into wings and he rose, disappearing into the sky.
Buffalo came next. Gladius hopped onto him and they gave chase.
Rosinante's knees buckled. He caught himself on the bench. He pulled himself up and sat down, holding Rosalia close to him, soothing her.
"Cora-san—" Baby 5 had appeared, skidding to a stop in front of him.
"Rosalia—" Rosinante's voice cracked down the middle. "Take Rosalia."
Rosinante's vision was tunneling at the edges. He looked down at the knife still in his thigh. The blood soaking into the fabric of his trousers.
Baby 5 quickly took Rosalia from Rosinante's arms and cradled her against her chest.
Rosinante's hand grasped Baby 5's shoulder.
"Listen to me. This is an order," he rasped. "From Corazon."
The garden had started to tilt.
"This news is not to reach Doflamingo. Is that understood?"
Baby 5 nodded, tears flowing helplessly down her cheeks.
Rosinante lay down on the bench so he wouldn't fall over.
He pressed both hands to his stomach.
The only thing left to protect now that Rosalia was safe.
Please, he prayed. Please don't take my child away.
The last thing he registered before he lost consciousness was Rosalia's silent, terrified crying.
Mouth opened wide inside the bubble that swallowed every sound she made.