spiritus contra spiritum - "spirits against spirits"
They docked in Dressrosa for the first time on Trebol's insistence.
He had old connections in the kingdom, knew it well, and guided Doflamingo through the streets like a giant comical tour guide.
It was certainly a vibrant place, full of petals and music and wine. Amber lanterns poured light across checker-stoned boulevards. Everywhere smelled of fruit and rang with laughter and shapely women sized him up without shyness, ruby lips curving beneath painted eyes.
"They recognize a king when they see one," Trebol said adamantly and Doflamingo began to grin.
They took their time strolling around, Trebol insisting on buying and carrying anything that caught Doflamingo's eye. It was like having his own slave again and Doflamingo snickered at the indulgence.
An hour or two of peace glided by before stationed Marines recognized them from their bounty posters. He sent Trebol off to cover as he led them on a merry chase. Scarlet and gold Dressrosan banners fluttered on every windowsill he passed and oh, the dedication, the nationalism, it must be fun to rule here.
The men followed him all the way to the shoreline, where he soon grew bored and had them promptly kill each other in a secluded grove near the beach. He sat there for a while after, flipping through their effects before Trebol managed to find him again.
"Why are we here?" he finally asked, studying one of the soft white roses that had been flecked with blood. "Not that this wasn't amusing, but you must've had a reason to request this visit."
Trebol's smile oozed wide. He squelched onto a stone bench beneath an old fig tree and waved a hand at the spindling castle towers in the distance.
"Ne, do you like Dressrosa, Doffy?"
He smiled, wandering over to prod one of the dead bodies with his toe. "It has its appeal."
"Then what would you say if I told you it should've been yours?"
Doflamingo went still. Trebol's expression didn't change however, even after he gave him a sharp look of appraisal.
"I would say explain."
"Ah, as I thought, you were never told."
"Told what, Trebol?"
"About your lineage," the older man said and just before Doflamingo's mood could turn foul, he supplied, "As you know, the Donquixote Family became part of the Celestial Dragons after helping to establish the World Government. But they must have been in quite a position of power before then to even get to that point. Just what do you suppose their position was, hmm?"
It clicked within seconds. Doflamingo turned back to the castle with widening eyes, to the flags bearing the Dold Family Crest wavering on the parapet. He imagined the view from there, high above the reeking masses, so close to the sky.
"…We ruled Dressrosa."
Trebol cackled, snorting up another strand of snot.
"I mentioned it earlier, Doffy. You were meant to be a king."
A king. A king. A king.
"Nene, how about it?" Trebol urged, "Let's take Dressrosa back for the family. For you."
A flood of giddiness spread through Doflamingo's veins, as strong and corrosive as poison. He imagined the grand staircases leading into the palace, the high walls and windows where the throne room would sit. What a marvelous view indeed. Death always looked funnier from up high.
Doflamingo's face was splitting into a grin, his many teeth glinting in the dark. He turned to Trebol.
And froze.
Dressrosa was on fire.
Orange-yellow and blue-hearted flames consuming the walls and streets, climbing up pillars and buildings. Millions of ropes swung from the melting ramparts of the palace like dead snakes. The coarseness of their fangs rubbed his wrists raw, shredding through skin the more he struggled and growing moist with blood.
Rosi's tiny, ragged silhouette stood against the blaze. A white, gore-splattered rose was held in his shadowy hand. Smoke blotted out the stars and screams twisted and roared in the wobbling heat, beckoning for vengeance and paid debts.
Rosi raised his head and his eyes were lifeless and tear-stained. His mouth opened.
"Doffy?"
Doflamingo jolted and the scene crumbled. The white bulbs of the unborn roses reformed around him and the distant lanterns blinked with their idle innocence. Sweat had streaked his face, made it paler than a sheet and tremors rattled his body.
"What's the matter?" Trebol leaned towards him, tiny eyes squinting beneath his glasses. In the moon's warped shadows, he looked like he'd slithered straight from the bowels of the earth—something gnarled and hunch-backed. Doflamingo's muscled strained with the reflexive urge to attack.
"No." He took a step back. "No, leave it be. Forget it."
Trebol's brows rose. "Eh? Why? It's yours. It was always suppose to be yours."
Doflamingo shook his head, eyes growing wide as the kingdom behind them flickered orange with fire again. His throat closed around his breath. Rosi sat next to Trebol on the bench, wrists swollen and crimson with rope burns.
Doflamingo turned, nearly stumbling.
"We're leaving," he said, and didn't slow down even as Trebol whined for him to wait.
xxx
(Dressrosa faded into a dot as the Donquixote Family left port. It danced on, an orb of color and light cupped in the craggy hand of the mountain.
It would dance for another eight beautiful years to come and never know of the first time those hungry eyes had set it within their sights.
Nor of what power had driven them away that one spring night).
xxx
Rosi became a problem.
Since the visit to Dressrosa and as the family grew, the thrice-damned little nuisance made routine appearances everywhere he went. Sometimes, he'd see two Rosi's, then three, then eleven lined up in a narrow corridor.
He looked so real Doflamingo wanted to reach out and grab him. Maybe try to throttle him. Why was he getting in his way?
It was an incredible distraction and he couldn't focus. Sometimes, Rosi wouldn't disappear for days, dogging him like a tiny shadow—the way he use to an eternity and a half ago for much better reasons. He brought headaches, terrible needling ones that felt like his skull was being stabbed by ice picks.
The crew was certainly noticing how their captain was changing. How he staggered as if avoiding something while turning corners or refused to sit in particular chairs, the violent swears they would hear floating from his chambers.
Raiding and pillaging became a chore. He'd stopped Pica from massacring entire villages and Diamante's depraved nonsense with women simply because he had no energy to deal with it. He let hostages go and gave up the drug trade.
Trebol was beyond upset. Not that Doflamingo really cared or even had the temper to sit through his complaints anymore.
Eventually, all he cared about was lying down in the dark of his cabin, staring at the ceiling until Rosi finally, finally relinquished him to peace.
xxx
In the eve of that year's muggy spring, Vergo sought to confront him.
"Is everything alright, Doffy?"
It was a superfluous question by that point. He hadn't slept or eaten right in weeks, and was perfectly aware of how much a horror he looked. Doflamingo yanked the dagger out of his wall, throwing it with a clatter back onto his desk.
Fifty knife holes criss-crossed different sections of his room, with some even on the ceiling and floorboards. None of them had hit their mark. Doflamingo collapsed into his chair with a frustrated growl.
"Head hurts," he said curtly, staring as Rosi appeared behind Vergo, half-muted by his shadow.
"Again? What about aspirin?"
"Downed half the bottle. Didn't work for shit."
Vergo's jaw dropped slightly. "Are you insane?"
It was a mild reproach at best. Vergo's said far worse things to him than that before and they had always operated with a degree of casualness anyway.
But irrationality wasn't on Doflamingo's mind as he slammed Vergo headfirst into the wall. The man gasped, air knocked out of his lungs as if by a sledgehammer. Doflamingo bunched his collar in a giant, quivering fist.
"I'm getting there," he hissed, "I'm about to be. So why don't you do something about that, Vergo? Why are you just standing around with your thumb up your ass? Why aren't you helping me?"
Vergo stared at him with startled eyes, the glasses having fallen from his nose. Cracks webbed out in the wood beneath his shoulders.
He looked like he was struggling to even understand the past few seconds and suddenly, Doflamingo pitied himself.
Why shouldn't Vergo be helping him deal with this, huh? Or better yet, why shouldn't Vergo just be fixing this for him entirely? He was his, wasn't he? That's what he had promised.
xxx
(Vergo almost flinched when Doffy's free hand skimmed over his cheek.
The movement tugged on his ribs and the faint bruises he knew would soon be forming.
"Oh, hush, it's not that bad," Doffy scolded, voice considerably quieter and gentler than a split second ago, "I've been having a bad day. You shouldn't have pushed me."
Is that what he had done? Vergo couldn't recall. He'd managed to react fast enough with haki to avoid the full brunt of the impact, but everything had escalated so suddenly that he wasn't sure when he'd stepped out of line.
"I'm sorry," he said regardless.
And was gifted with a smile, full lips parting to reveal white chiseled teeth. Doffy shifted his head and a strand of sunlight from the window refracted off his earring, scattering gold across the ceiling.
"Hmm, and if I don't forgive you?"
Vergo's heart plummeted. He had chosen to dedicate his very essence to Doffy thirteen years ago and carried no other purpose besides serving him. No other existence really.
"You could punch me some more," he offered, "If you need to blow off steam that is. I'll use armament to reduce the damage. And we should use my room, so you don't damage any more of yours."
Doffy laughed, a husky sound from the broad center of his chest. Vergo thought he could see the lid of one blue eye piercing into him.
"An offer that can be appreciated, but no. I'd rather have you in one piece." The long, slender fingers were moving again, tracing now over Vergo's jaw. "How about you solve a little dilemma of mine instead? There's someone who's really been pissing me off lately. I need you to get rid of him. You'll do this for me, won't you? Whatever it takes?"
"Of course, Doffy," he said. Instantly. Without a second's thought.
Doffy smiled once more and the hand lifted from his face, plucking something along with it. A teaspoon dangled between his index finger and thumb, and Vergo flushed.
"Hehe, ever the loyal one, Corazón."
And then Doffy told him and by the end, Vergo had departed the ship with only two thoughts in mind.
That he would make certain Doffy was never troubled again.
And that no one in this world made him shiver with more hatred than Rosinante Donquixote).
xxx
"I can't believe you're making me go this far."
...
"Why won't you leave me alone?"
...
"You always asked for this or that from me, but you can't even leave me alone?"
...
"I would've protected you, Rosi. I would've kept you safe."
...
...
...
"Why couldn't you believe that?"
xxx
Despite it all, Doflamingo's reputation did not suffer. If anything, the strange mercurial nature of his actions drew interested parties like moths to a flame.
Big moths.
And one day, the biggest one of all came calling.
It was Jora who answered the Den Den Mushi from Kaido. It was also Jora who screamed loud enough to rattle the shutters, forgot herself entirely and went tearing onto the deck for him like a headless chicken.
Thus, Doflamingo's first few words of exchange with a Yonkou ended up being apologies.
"I don't usually get that reaction from people." The emperor said and Doflamingo could not tell if his tone was of pride or annoyance and doubted the words either way.
It was Jora who answered the Den Den Mushi from Kaido. It was also Jora who screamed loud enough to rattle the shutters, dropped the snail and went tearing onto the deck for him like a headless chicken.
Thus, Doflamingo's first few words of exchange with a Yonkou ended up being apologies.
"I don't usually get that reaction from people," the emperor said and Doflamingo could not tell if his tone was of pride or annoyance.
"You'll have to excuse her," he soothed through a clenched smile, while Jora was hastily ushered out of the room by Lao G, "Living on a ship can do funny things to people as you know."
There was a scoff. "Eh, true enough. Had my share of crazies on my first crew too." The snail looked reminiscent, a little tempted. "Those were the days, boy. Been a long time since I last went out on the blues."
Doflamingo's grin hitched up a centimeter, alarm prickling his nape. Granted, it'd be interesting to stir a Yonkou into movement again-anything to agitate the marines and their Gorosei masters after all-but chaos at this juncture was entirely undesirable.
"Well, we all know how busy of a man you are," he said, forcing the conversation along, "It's what makes this call so...unexpected really. How can I be of service?"
Kaido grunted, still sounding rather miffed. He followed cue without fuss though.
"Alright, listen up, little bird. I don't got time to mince words, so I'll keep this plain. You ever heard of Wano Country?"
That was probably the most pointless question Doflamingo had ever been asked, but he nodded.
"I have."
"Good, then here are the terms. You want safe passage through the waters there? Cut me a good deal and I'll let you sail by without penalty."
Doflamingo stared at the snail.
"…Did you get that, boy?"
"Yes." His mind churned. Wano Country was one of the few territories the marines had no access to and the recent raise in his bounty had been summoning more and more elite officers. Old Tsuru in particular seemed dead-set on chasing him all over the Grand Line.
Promise was ripe here. Doflamingo propped his feet on the table.
"Exactly what kind of deal are you interested in?"
"Dunno," the Den Den Mushi mimed picking its ear, "I heard you've got access to all sorts of shit though, so just offer whatever'll be useful to me. All that extra thinking is your job, not mine."
Doflamingo chuckled, incredulous. He supposed only creatures like Kaido could afford this sort of careless audacity.
"Heh, very well. Is there at least a preference?"
"Better men. Slim pickings here in Wano Country. Too many swordsmen waving their little sticks around. I want claws and teeth. Things that can tear shit up without worrying about some pussyfoot code of honor."
His grin faded slightly. Kaido most likely desired Zoan Devil Fruit—one of the rarer types in the New World. Where the fuck was he going to find enough of those to keep the man happy?
"I'll do my utmost to satisfy you," he settled on at last.
A snarl of laughter rang on the other end, black and rumbling as thunder across a wasteland.
"Oh, there's no need to aim so high, boy. I'm not satisfied by much anymore." The snail's mouth curled into a smirk. "A problem we can both relate to, eh?"
He blinked. Said nothing.
"You know I've been hearing a lot of talk about you, Doflamingo," Kaido continued, "That you're somethin' special, that you've got plans to come. You're after something, aren't you? What exactly is it that you want?"
"Nothing you could understand," Doflamingo said, without thinking.
But there was only more raucous laughter in reply. The speaker piece vibrated in his hand.
"Such spunk! I think we'll get along just fine, pretty bird. In fact, let me give you a small piece of advice. As a gesture."
The Den Den Mushi's smirk widened, revealing long, jagged canines.
"Time to cut the shit with all the softness. There's potential, but you're still holdin' back. You're clinging to something. Or something's clinging to you. What good's a past for a goal like yours? Slaughter the fuck out of those ghosts. Let everything go. You'll be afraid of nothing in time. Trust me."
For a second, Doflamingo sat there, vaguely stunned.
"I—"
Rosi was next to the Den Den Mushi, hands wrapped over its mouth. He looked at Doflamingo and it'd been a long time since he'd last seen any emotion on his brother's face, but now he saw judgment. Expectation.
And suddenly, he realized it was as Kaido said. Rosi…had been telling him what to do, hadn't he? The headaches and nightmares were only excuses. Doflamingo had heeled under the command of a most-assuredly dead little boy. He'd been letting the dust of a memory control him, because…
Because…
Doflamingo's fingers left dents in the speaker.
"I understand," he said and Kaido chuckled.
"I had a feeling you would."
xxx
Vergo returned with an odd bottle of wine, pink as his feathered coat and stinking of chemicals. It was a long, convoluted story, but the basic gist Doflamingo gathered was that Vergo had somehow assisted a Marine squad in raiding an illegal drug lab.
One of the workers there was a man named Caesar, a former disciple of the renowned Vegapunk. Caesar had murdered many, many people in the name of science. He'd crossed every line imaginable and had done it all with a smile, with the most ear-grating laughter Vergo had ever experienced.
But as a result, Caesar also knew a thing or two more about human psychiatry than most and Vergo figured this was worth keeping him from rotting behind bars.
"I have him situated in a safe-house right now," he said, as Doflamingo stared at the swirling liquid, "If it doesn't work or causes some kind of problem, I'll go back and have him fix it."
"Hm, what if it just poisons me instead?"
"Then I'd kill him," Vergo said, without missing a beat, "In the most excruciating way yet invented."
And then I'd kill myself too. The unspoken words reverberate with such thundering conviction they may as well have been spoken. Doflamingo's smile was fond. This was why Vergo had always been his favorite.
Slowly, he brought the filled glass to his lips, downing it all in one go.
xxx
As it turned out, neither Caesar nor Vergo had to die in the end.
Doflamingo was ecstatic, swaggering about the ship with a huge grin plastered to his face. He said hello to everyone he came across, caused more than a couple collisions and terrorized some of the newbies until they looked on the edge of weeping.
And all the while he was alone.
Rosi was gone.
"You did well, my Corazón," he whispered that night, as his hand crept beneath the sheets.
Vergo lay flat on his back, toned chest rising and falling in pleasured repose. A blissful smile was faint on the usually stoic line of his mouth. He'd gotten off so quickly that it was almost pathetic, but Doflamingo refrained from any of his usual teases. The man had certainly earned it.
"I've been thinking about those connections you made at the naval base," he continued, pulling off a quill pen from Vergo's cheek. It had been stuck there the entire time, even when the bed had nearly broken under their combined weight.
"They won't be an issue," Vergo said softly, "I fed them some lie about how I was a recent cadet who joined to support his sick sister. For all they know, I'm back at the academy now."
"Hm, that's what I mean. Maybe that's where you should be."
Doflamingo dropped the quill carelessly to the ground.
"It'd be convenient, don't you think? To have a pulse on the Marines."
Vergo turned slightly, gaze blank. "Do you want me to go?"
Doflamingo smiled and leaned over to look him in the face.
"Of course not. It's only if you choose to. You know I would never force you into anything." He set an elbow against the bed frame, propping himself up with a hand. "It's simply that I trust you the most for it. Infiltration would be smoother for you too, I'm sure, with how dazzled they were by your performance."
Vergo was quiet. He reached up and brushed the edge of Doflamingo's hair.
"I'll go, Doffy," he said, "If that's what you wish, then I'll go."
Doflamingo's smile widened. "You do spoil me."
But Vergo only smiled back. They sat there for a while more, the gloomy light of a single lantern casting monstrous shapes across the pock-marked room. Doflamingo observed them with a slightly ridiculous consternation. He supposed on some level, he was still waiting for Rosi's tiny blonde head to melt out of the dark.
Reaching over Vergo, he snatched up the wine bottle from the dresser, swallowing a huge gulp. It tasted like bitterness and blood—this Caesar character was no connoisseur—but Doflamingo felt better for it.
"Did you ever tell Trebol?" came Vergo's voice suddenly.
"Tell him what?"
"About your brother. How you've been…seeing him everywhere for the past few years."
Doflamingo raised a slight brow before scoffing. Trebol was nosy enough as it was and meddled in his business plenty. The man didn't need any more legroom.
"No, it never occurred to me."
"Really? Not with Diamante or Pica either?"
Doflamingo shook his head. "Just you."
Vergo was silent again, a bemused air about him. Doflamingo drank more wine and figured the conversation was over when Vergo spoke once more.
"He left you, Doffy." The tone was suddenly hard, suddenly angry and cold. "You should forget about him."
Doflamingo didn't immediately reply. More calmly now, he regarded the desk and chairs and bookshelves of his cabin—all of which Rosi had appeared on at some point or another. He'd been such a source of torment for so long and still Doflamingo could not bring himself to hate him just yet. Not the real Rosi—the one he still kept memories of in some rusted crevice of his heart. Not his Rosi.
"He's family."
"No." The mattress creaked as Vergo sat up. "Family is loyal to you, Doffy. Family stays by your side. Family never betrays you. We are your family. Not him."
In his vehemence, Vergo even grabbed his bicep, turning Doflamingo around so they were looking at each other. Beneath the shadows and with only one available eye, Doflamingo just caught the fierce clench in Vergo's jaw. He might've removed said jaw entirely by this point if it was anyone else, but because it was Vergo, he only sighed.
"Well, it hardly matters now. He's probably dead."
It probably took all of Vergo's self-control to keep from saying, Good.
Doflamingo almost smiled. He was…a little flattered that Vergo was so worried about him. At least that's what he interpreted the warm weight in his chest to be.
"A long time ago," he found himself sharing, "Rosi asked me to release this bird that I had trapped. It was his birthday and he said it was the only gift he wanted from me. This one thing, if I could just give it to him."
Vergo grunted. "Why? What were you planning to do to that bird?"
"I'm not sure. Kill it most likely."
There was a sharp pause. Then an even sharper snort.
"As I said, he interfered with you too much. Why would you want to see someone like that again?"
I don't know. Doflamingo thought and remembered the ghost of tiny fingers encircling his wrist.
xxx
Vergo left at the end of spring. The year dragged on without him, but Doflamingo's focus returned in force. With feverish and ruthless energy, he set about clawing his way back up the grimy rungs of the New World, re-establishing territories that he had surrendered in his distraction.
The sun that summer hung like a smoldering coin, as red as the blood he rained down on the islands week after week.
In time, only vice admirals were dispatched after him and his crimes flooded the papers. They called him, "Heavenly Demon," as if they thought themselves clever.
Caesar, who he found was far more useful than being a mere creator of medicinal wines, settled down on Punk Hazard. Doflamingo had a lab built for him on the island, where he began researching the possible creation of Zoan Devil Fruits for Kaido. He supplied Caesar with whatever materials the man requested. His growing prominence as "Joker" in the underworld had made it relatively easy to access almost anything.
He never had to look far for sources in vats, machinery or test subjects.
The occasional bout of paranoia or nightmares still happened, but the wine kept most of it at bay. Until one day in the fall, Doflamingo realized he had started forgetting the contours of his brother's face. He was upset for several minutes, before calming himself down.
Sometimes, it was better to let things lie.
xxx
In winter, they discovered a butchered tribe of fishmen. No survivors except one.
Dellinger was small and loud and of no use to him whatsoever, but Doflamingo knew he would be.
"You take care of him," he said, holding the infant out to Jora. The frail creature fussed and wriggled in his arm, making him slippery to hold. Being soaked in the blood of his kinsmen didn't help.
Jora squawked in protest, embarking on some long-winded rant about gender expectations until Doflamingo shrugged. He figured Dellinger would get the kindest upbringing with Jora, but had no qualms with a much harsher one under Diamante or Trebol.
Either way, they were taking him.
Maybe Jora worked this out for herself too, because she sighed at the glint in his smile.
"Never mind," she said, reaching out, "Forgive me, Young Master, I'll take him. Please let me take him."
Doflamingo snickered and handed the baby over. Dellinger babbled happily as he nestled down in Jora's arms, still holding a fistful of Doflamingo's coat for comfort.
Children in general, he was realizing, would be far easier to train than sailors set in their ways. With decades of habits, superstitions and stupidities to scrape out of their brains. He was onto something interesting indeed.
"You're a survivor, hm?" he said, poking the child's nose, "That's what I like to see."
A cheery little gurgle replied.
xxx
When Doflamingo was twenty-four and the new year had begun, they found a stranger almost his own height sitting alone at a port.
He had blonde hair and brick-dust eyes and was just as clumsy as he had been fourteen goddamn years ago.