terra nullius - "nobody's land"

The crew took Rosi's presence in stride. Not that Doflamingo would have accepted any dissent in the first place, but they seemed genuinely fascinated—observing his brother from afar like they would a new, mysterious animal. Lao G ascribed it to the remarkable physical resemblance he shared with Doflamingo, especially since most of the crew figured their young master had no blood relations left at all.

"I'm sure a couple of them also assume you fell out of the sky one day a full grown man," he added, sipping his tea dryly—a comment Doflamingo ignored with practiced ease.

Rosi himself did not seem to mind the scrutiny. Maybe he was use to being gawked at from the astounding number of pratfalls and mishaps he had on a daily basis (and wow, that had certainly not improved).

Doflamingo acquired the black feather coat for him just out of a hope that the weight would somehow counteract Rosi's complete inability to balance himself. It was a hope in vain.

But his brother bore the snorts and the whispers without care. Without a single breath towards anger. His patience was silent and unflinching and stirred Doflamingo's memories.

Some things never did change.

xxx

Perhaps predictably, the only ones who took real issue with Rosi were his executives. Trebol in particular seemed to hate his brother beyond measure or description, while Diamante and Pica were hardly thrilled either.

It was a problem that was becoming more annoying by the day. As if Rosi was a puzzle piece he'd spent forever trying to find, only to discover he would always be an inch too small to fit.

"Maybe it's a sign, Doffy."

He blinked, gaze sliding to the Den Den Mushi adorned in Vergo's likeness. Today, a razor blade hung from its cheek.

"A sign?"

"That he doesn't belong here."

A vein sprouted at his temple. Doflamingo grinned.

"Are you questioning my decisions, Vergo?"

"Never," came the prompt reply, "But I do want to remind you of the facts. He ever explain what happened to him?"

Doflamingo's expression smoothed, the spark of anger forgotten. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

"No. Says he can't remember much."

"Nothing? He's been missing for fourteen years, Doffy. You're telling me the trauma was that severe?"

Doflamingo was quiet. A hazy flash of his parents came unbidden to mind. His mother's still hands. His father's bullet-ridden body. (I WISH YOU WOULD DIE)

Rosi yanking on his sleeves, beating on his chest with tiny fists. Crying. Always crying. His terror had been to Doflamingo's eternal consternation. Father was long dead by the time his head had been taken. It's not as if he'd felt it. This whole detestable situation had been HIS FAULT anyway. Had they been expected to just follow suit? To just lie down and die as well?

Rosi's head was up in the clouds. He never had understood a thing.

"He was weak," Doflamingo said, "But I'll change that."

"So you believe him?"

"Yes."

A long, toneless beat.

"…Then he'll get no trouble from me, Doffy."

That at least made Doflamingo smile, his many teeth glinting. He couldn't help himself and prodded further, "Even if I name him the second Corazón?"

The second bout of silence was much more acute. To his credit, Vergo composed himself within seconds.

"If that is your wish," he said softly, "Though I do think you should hold off on sharing too much with him. Like what I'm currently up to for example. The background checks won't be such a joke as I move higher up in the ranks and who knows what could be found."

Doflamingo cocked his head. It did make sense to keep the number of people aware of Vergo's status as low as possible. He wouldn't want Rosi to ever have the information tortured out of him.

"Fair enough."

The Den Den Mushi gave a respectful nod. There was a rigid air to the motion though and Doflamingo smiled again, a rendition that was softer at the corners.

"…He's my brother through blood. I know you don't like it, but he is. He's family."

There was a sigh.

"Doffy, I just—"

"You are too," Doflamingo let his smile fade, "He's not a replacement, Vergo. No one is. Everything about this crew, this ship, Rosi, you—all of it belongs to me. Only me. And I won't let a single one of you go. You will never be able to leave the Donquixote Family, Vergo. Not until it suits my purposes. Not until I dismiss you personally."

The line went still for so long that Doflamingo's eyes narrowed.

"Do you understand?"

"…I understand."

The voice was barely a croak, almost breathy. Almost, dare he say, aroused and Doflamingo's brow shot up in amusement. Here he was trying to have a serious conversation and Vergo was getting it up. How inappropriate.

"You won't fail with the Marines, will you?" he said, deliberately coy, "You'll keep at it for me."

"Always," he swore and Doflamingo guffawed.

"That's a snail you're looking at, idiot."

"I've already shut my eyes."

Doflamingo shook his head. He really did miss Vergo sometimes.

xxx

Rosi became Corazón. No one liked it and Doflamingo didn't care.

"You're as strong as ten normal men," he said, as his brother chain-smoked on the quarterdeck, "And I've seen you with a gun. If anyone wants to try, then just put them in their place."

Rosi sighed. "It's not that," he said, lips pursing, "It's them. Diamante and Pica. Vergo. Trebol. Why did you…at that time I…I thought you were done with them."

For a second, Doflamingo didn't understand what he was referring to, before he remembered. Huh. There had been a time where he'd rejected them, hadn't there? The first meeting. Seemed like another world now.

"They had what I needed."

His brother's gaze was skeptical.

"And what did you need?"

Doflamingo smiled. Instead of answering, he surveyed the main deck, eyeing a group of fresh recruits playing cards beneath the foremast. One man was throwing down his hand in outrage, kicking over the crate he'd been sitting on.

A sore loser. Doflamingo tutted and raised his hand. Ring finger and thumb.

The man's screamed as he was tossed overboard, crashing with a wet slap into the sea.

The deck fractured with yelps and swearing. With a shocked curse of his own, Rosi dropped his cigarette and grabbed the rail. He was about to vault off the quarterdeck when Doflamingo snatched him by the wrists with crushing strength. Hissing with pain, Rosi tried to yank away, but Doflamingo held him there for almost five minutes, both of them listening to the man drown.

"What the hell Doffy! Let go—!"

He froze, when the grin spread against his ear, two fine rows of teeth.

"What I needed, little brother, was power…"

Doflamingo flicked his wrist, bending his index and middle finger now and the body was yanked out of the waves, tumbling back on-board like a pile of soggy laundry. The man vomited up seawater and jabbered in terror, his bewildered peers circling around him. Senor Pink and Lao G, the officers on duty, didn't even glance their way.

Doflamingo laughed as the strings snapped in his palm. He released his brother and leaned against the railing, nodding towards the sopping man below.

"Power and choice."

Rosi stared too. His face was pale, or maybe that was only a reflection of the dreary, gray-washed day. When he spoke, his voice was measured and low.

"That's what he tried to give us, Doffy."

Doflamingo's grin dropped like a dead thing.

"You are mistaken. That's what he took away."

Rosi didn't reply. They faced each other, toeing the edge of some unspeakable line. They didn't know how to cross it. They didn't even know if they could.

At last, Rosi retreated, expression cooling into emptiness. He lit another cigarette and turned from the deck.

"By your leave, Young Master."

There was not an ounce of sarcasm in the words, but Doflamingo scowled anyway, forcing Rosi to wait a beat before nodding. Their shoulders grazed as his brother passed him by.

For a while after he was gone, Doflamingo remained at the railing, mood officially soured. The stench of brine saturated the ship, soaking into the floorboards. An old, sad voice rolled in the spray.

I am sorry you had to have a father like me.

Doflamingo gritted his teeth so hard his jaw creaked. Spinning on his heel, he stormed down to his room in search of wine.

xxx

Eventually, Rosi got with the program. By the end of the first month, a wobbly truce had been established between him and the other executives. They mocked and jeered him, but never escalated to full-on hostility, while Rosi ignored their existence whenever he could.

Doflamingo was pleased.

He was even more delighted to discover how capable Rosi was as a killer. It was fairly interesting to watch—his long, usually graceless limbs moving with precision and restraint, granting instant death and never spilling more blood than necessary.

His eyes were always blank and cold. Like he fought on reflex and instinct, while the real essence of him was somewhere far, far away.

Perhaps it was all a tad on the bland side, but Doflamingo couldn't help feeling some pride. Some familiarity.

It was easier dealing with Corazón, than a little brother who could not bear the death of a bird.

xxx

His bounty climbed by the month. By April, Tsuru had made a point of stationing herself semi-permanently in the North Blue, taking slow laps around the islands just so he could never relax.

Bounty hunters and crews looking to make a name (and there were plenty of these suicidal fools to go around) began staging raids.

In Doflamingo's opinion, Rosi was at his most impressive then. He could not afford to be careful in close quarters combat. He could not afford to be kind.

"You've really surprised me," Doflamingo said, after a particularly gory encounter, "Though I'm starting to see that's also nothing new for you."

Enemy blood was sprayed across Rosi's temples and neck and hair. Green-tinged rookies swabbed the deck, skirting around him like they were afraid he would reach out and tear open their throats. He hadn't moved in at least three minutes now.

Doflamingo observed him from his perch atop the bench. At his knee, Dellinger rolled and scrabbled around. His current preoccupation with using Doflamingo as a jungle gym had smeared vibrant stains all over his nappy. His sprouting teeth drizzled like syrup.

Rosi was stared at the child, eyes severe under the fringe of his bangs.

"Why is he out here?"

"He's allowed to help if he so feels the need."

"Could've gotten in the way."

Doflamingo shrugged, though he was starting to frown.

"Jora thought he needed exercise."

It was near imperceptible, but the angle of Rosi's shoulders stiffened. His brother never quite managed to wipe the horror off his face when he saw Dellinger. That had always been Rosi's issue after all. He saw only details; Dellinger was an infant, an orphan, he was small, he was innocent, they were pirates, so on and so forth.

Not once had his brother ever considered the bigger picture. The means to an end. You could not have a weapon of your own design if you didn't begin honing it from scratch.

It was frustrating.

"Has it never occurred to you," Doflamingo found himself saying, "That he actually might be happy here? Where he's provided food and shelter and all his wants and needs are met? Has it never occurred to you that we might have saved him from a far crueler fate? That he'd be all but dead now without us?"

Dellinger babbled and crawled under Doflamingo's arm, snuggling into the feathers of his coat. He blinked at Rosi with owlish eyes.

His brother moved finally, frame slumping.

"Do you care about that kid?" he asked, "Do you love him?"

"He is mine," Doflamingo replied, honest for once, and his brother gave him a look precursor to confrontation. Doflamingo was rather tired of arguing. The crew and executives were counting loot beneath the quarterdeck—over two-million beris total from the amount they'd taken from the bounty hunter ships. This was his victory, his conquest and he wasn't going to ruin his own mood fighting with his brother for the hundredth time this week.

Dellinger squealed with joy as strings pulled over a basket of fresh towels. Doflamingo plucked two out and wrapped the infant in one of them. The other he offered to Rosi.

"Here. Clean yourself up. You look disgusting."

Rosi took the towel. He did nothing for a second but stare at it, before plopping down next to Doflamingo with a sigh.

"Thought you said red was my best color."

"Hmm." Doflamingo regarded a shallow wound near Rosi's brow, right above his left eye. It bled sluggishly and his own scar ached.

"Not always," he conceded.

xxx

Doffy had horrific nightmares.

Rosinante did not hear them or see them. The walls were thick and his brother barely slept four hours at a time. No one else told him. No one else had any idea. Rosinante didn't know why he knew, but he did.

The first time, Rosinante paced in front of Doffy's door for hours, agonizing over whether to enter. Concern and pragmatism churned through his mind, vying for control. He eventually fell asleep in a sprawl at his brother's doorway and didn't wake up until he literally pitched over the next morning when the door opened.

Doffy's face was pale and pinched. He looked vaguely ill even with the glasses hiding his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked, and it was half reprimand and half a sigh. Rosinante did not often feel chided by his brother, but he did then.

"I…" he fumbled, both lies and truths warring on his tongue, before his shoulders fell, "…I'm not sure."

Doffy stared at him and despite Rosinante's own height, his brother seemed endlessly tall from the floor. He almost flinched when he squatted down suddenly, so they were eye level.

A hand, wide and long, deceptively gentle, touched his head. It brushed aside hair from his eyes, fingers stretching over his cheek. He was checking him over, Rosinante realized with a clenched heart, reassuring himself. The past breathed.

Doffy's smile was faint. Rosinante wondered why the only time it didn't scare him these days was when it looked in pain.

"You're alright, Rosi."

He stood and staggered past him, the wine bottle swishing in his hand.

xxx

Jora was the one who found Gladius.

Black-eyed and blood-caked, he sat in front of a warehouse, hugging his knees and shaking like a rattle, body one giant mottled bruise. Jora had not dared to look inside and perhaps she had been better for it.

He didn't care much for what he saw in there either.

Even Pica and Diamante looked vaguely nauseous when they exited and Rosi fumbled for his cigarettes, lighting a stick with pale-nailed hands. He even shared his carton with Senor Pink.

Doflamingo slid the door shut. He assessed the waif, still nameless then, with some thoughtfulness.

"Aren't you a nasty one?"

"Young Master," Jora said, "I think the boy was—"

Doflamingo's hand glowed orange. On instinct, his family backed away several steps. The waif raised his head, pupils the size of coins beneath dark, ratty bangs. Rosi's breath was sharp.

"Doffy—"

Overheat exploded from Doflamingo's palm, blasting through the warehouse and setting it aflame in seconds. Diamante cursed, scrambling to dodge a piece of burning debris, while Senor Pink yanked a screaming Jora out of the way. Pica was gaping at him. So was Rosi.

Doflamingo knelt down in front of the boy.

"You can run now," he said, "and no one will ever know what happened here."

The waif stared up at him. Surprise flickered across his pallid features. Terror glittered over him like orange glaze on clay.

"You can run now," said Doflamingo, "but you will always be alone. Without a soul to turn to. Without a single place to call home." A speck of ash landed on the boy's collar. Doflamingo reached over.

"You will suffer all your life and die a small, forgotten death." He dusted the speck off. "Or you could come with me. Sail the seas and be part of my crew. I'll give you freedom and protection. Nothing will ever hurt you again."

"Nothing?" The boy's voice was cracked and soft.

"Nothing. You would be one of my family. One of mine."

The boy stared at his hands, at the smoking inferno of the warehouse. He shivered and licked his bloodied lips.

"…Family?"

Doflamingo chuckled and stood, shedding off his coat without replying again. He'd gotten his answer. And they could play this little parrot game all day, but there were places to be. He wrapped the boy in feathers, uncaring of stains, and carried him to the ship personally. The others trailed after him like ants in a line.

Rosi lingered towards the end.

His stare bore a hole into the back of Doflamingo's head.

xxx

By coincidence, they stopped on Machvise's isle for supplies and picked him up in an underground fighting ring.

Doflamingo's head had been pounding at landing, pain thudding behind his vision in strange rippling beats. He didn't want to do anything save lie in the dark of his room, until Rosi managed to coax him out for air.

His brother was always worried about the migraines. Excessively worried. He asked a lot of odd questions about when they started, how bad they got and how long they'd last. Even more for the wine, which Rosi wanted to know the composition of, the possible side effects, who made it and blah blah blah.

He'd gladly take a walk if it meant avoiding another incessant bout of questioning, even if he doubted Rosi had meant for them to stumble upon the fights.

The makeshift stadium reeked faintly of sweat and urine. Cigar clouds floated in the dim lighting. There was a lot of tension he had to dispel when eyes landed on them, but the matches were fascinating enough that he didn't mind.

"I've got ten grand down on that one," he said, leaning over his brother to helpfully point.

Rosi sighed and pushed his arm away. Not that he didn't glance down too.

"…The black singlet? Why?"

"His name's Machvise. It's his seventh run as returning champion."

An eyebrow rose. "Oh, so that's Machvise. Name was getting thrown around everywhere earlier."

"Fufu, yes, he's an interesting one. Only accepted the prize once, after winning all the rounds his first time, and has been turning it down ever since."

"What was the prize the first time?"

"The Ton Ton no Mi."

Rosi stared. "We've only been sitting here for about five minutes. How do you know all this already?"

Doflamingo clucked his tongue at him. "Little brother, you must be aware of your surroundings. I'll have you know I've compiled entire reports on the underground rings here a long time ago. There's no way I would just walk into such a suspicious-looking building without even—"

"Doffy, I can see the pamphlet sticking out of your sleeve."

He looked down, saw it was true and casually tucked it back out of sight.

"…what was that?"

His brother made a swipe at him and they grappled for a second or two, before Doflamingo let him snatch it. Rosi collapsed into his seat with the crushed pamphlet in hand, breathlessly triumphant.

"Jackass," he hissed.

Doflamingo laughed. He hadn't been intending to and it came out genuine, surprising them both. There was another beat of staring.

Again, Rosi turned away first. A smile ghosted his lips though, even if Doflamingo had only caught it for a second. Just this once, he decided he wouldn't comment.

They watched the rest of the matches in a silence that was almost comfortable.

Without much surprise, Machvise bulldozed through every round, speeding up to the top of the chart with ease. When he crushed the final contender too and the crowd roared his name, Doflamingo knew what he wanted.

"W-Why me?"

Despite towering over both of them, Machvise was a shy man, who stammered and addressed his shoes when they met him after the crowd dispersed. He was having a hard time processing Doflamingo's offer, which was one-part amusing and two-parts exasperating.

"Because you have promise. I think you're something rather special."

Machvise grunted, smiling a small wilted smile. His gaze traveled to the suitcase of Beris sitting beside him, already packed up for return.

"No, I'm not anything."

Doflamingo held in a sigh.

"Why do you keep competing here?" he asked, trying a different angle, "The fights must be child's play considering you've eaten a Devil's Fruit. And it can't be for money, because you've never accepted the prize."

Machvise's cheeks reddened. He glanced at the suitcase again, before his cheeks reddened. "…I just like the noise."

"The noise?"

The man's head bowed. He wrung his comical little police cap in ham-sized fists. Something like humiliation cast over his face.

"The cheering. It's the only time I ever…it's the only time I hear my name."

They were silent.

Pity flickered over Rosi's face like the first flecks of rain on a window. Doflamingo supposed he could agree there was a pathetic air about Machvise that warranted such expression. It's what made the prospect of his recruitment even more enticing after all. Strength and skill were well and good, but Doflamingo had always preferred them with the added insurance of dependence.

A lack of something as it were. Ideally still fill-able.

"Join my family," he said, "And I promise you will never have to worry about that again. You'll hear your name all the time, every day, so much that you'll grow sick of its sound."

Machvise's tiny eyes grew wide. "…Really?"

Doflamingo nodded, unsmiling. He already had him, but needed to show his sincerity. He didn't even notice Rosi was staring at him oddly then, and continued not to until they had led Machvise onto the ship and deposited him with Diamante.

"What?" Doflamingo asked, brow arched.

His brother shrugged. "Just thinking about what you said back there to him. It was…kind of you."

"Heh, I sense astonishment. You don't think I'm capable of being kind?"

Rosi was silent, gaze steady and thoughtful.

"I think you do what you can, Doffy," he said, "I think maybe…"

He paused and then shook his head. A slight smile curved across his mouth again. It looked different in some way, but Doflamingo failed to pinpoint how.

xxx

"You think he can change?"

Rosinante's fists clenched. Sengoku's deliberately even tone aside, the words sounded foolish when repeated back to him.

"I don't know. I mean…sir, you weren't there, you didn't see—"

"You've read Tsuru's profile on him."

Rosinante paused, staring at the Den Den Mushi. Read? More like memorized. More like etched every word into the walls of his brain. Anger. Sadism. Lack of empathy. A shudder pulsed up his spine.

"You even added footnotes," Sengoku's tone grew stern. "You said he was a monster."

He closed his eyes, dragging a hand through his hair. They'd been words unleashed in a moment of pain and sounded overly cruel to him now. Doffy wasn't a monster. His brother was so many, many things, but a monster?

Rosinante didn't believe it.

"He's my brother. He's always...always tried for me."

Sengoku sighed, as if Rosinante was still a tear-stained child. As if he was still naïve.

"You can't let him hide behind that excuse forever, Rosinante," he said, "Trying is not succeeding. It's not understanding. It's not enough. I know you want to help him, son. But I also know you agree."

Rosinante had no reply.

xxx

He's out of wine on a Wednesday. Marines intercepted Caesar as he was bringing the shipments for delivery and mistook the crate for drugs. They were all food for the fishes now, but the bottles were smashed.

Caesar groveled with incessant apologies. Vergo was angrier than Doflamingo could even try to be. He offered to beat the scientist to death, which was hardly productive. Caesar was too useful. He needed him for Kaido.

Doflamingo let him go with the simple request of making more and delivering them when he could.

"Will you be okay?" Rosi asked, when he learned, "You won't go through…withdrawal or something?"

"Hm? Of course not. I haven't really needed it in a while anyway."

"I'm sorry, Doffy." It was so sudden and solemn a tone that Doflamingo finally looked up from his book.

"What for?"

But Rosi was gone. It was only much, much later that Doflamingo would realize he had never shared what purpose the wine had served at all. His brother had seemed to know regardless.

xxx

On Thursday night, Doflamingo opened his eyes and knew he was dreaming.

The ocean sprawled before him, cresting and rolling waves glittering in the darkness. Crisp clouds shifted above, inching along past a white sliver of moon. The marrow of his bones ached at the smell of salt and rock, his blood curdled at the water's proximity. It was a place stripped of life, empty and ancient. An improvement, he supposed, over his usual fare.

With a short sigh, Doflamingo sat down on the raft, eyeing the tiny figure before him.

"It's been a while."

Rosi's face was blank. Seeing him at twenty-two and then now again at eight years old made Doflamingo realize how truly malnourished he had been. The collarbone jutted out at angles and his blonde hair was dull and thinned.

In spite of everything, pride still filled him that Rosi had escaped the hell of that life. That whatever had happened to him, it had made him strong. He was glad Rosi didn't let anyone hurt him anymore.

"Why are you here?"

A clatter. Two feather-light shapes landed on the wooden floor in front of him with barely a stir. Doflamingo blinked.

They were toys. Wind-up dolls that were withered from rough handling and grime. They resembled the broken figurines Doflamingo use to find in the trash, all of which he would sift aside in search of an apple core or chicken bones.

One was shaped like Gladius. The other like Machvise.

Doflamingo smiled and picked them up. The little things turned limply in his hands, winding keys were rusty and fractured. Latches gaped open in their chests, where the clockwork gears hung in stiff suspension. Both motors were missing.

"Broken wretches condemned to the scrap heaps." Doflamingo hummed, smoothing a thumb along the tin features. "You must find this all so pitiful, Rosi."

No answer.

Rosi watched him, smoke-lined and ripple-less. This version of his little brother did not flinch. It did not do anything but spill out blood and tears and keep Doflamingo awake at night. He set the toys back down, propping them against each other, straightening Machvise's tail.

"What is deemed abnormal or a misfit or a freak are all simply constructs made by the many to condemn the few. Things are always changing, terms being reapplied, time marches on and on to no one's beat. Who has the final authority to say what is wrong and right? What is cruelty and what is mercy?"

Doflamingo gestured at the blue expanse about them.

"Everything, one day, will be buried at sea." He grinned and even the darkness shivered, because the words were a promise. "Yet they would still judge these poor souls as contemptible and different, deny them acceptance or a sense of belonging."

He stretched out his hand, fingers flexed.

"No one wanted them but me," he said softly, "I'll give them a place, an identity, a chance. I'll give them everything the 'justice' of this laughable society has sought to take away."

Why can't you see that? Doflamingo wasn't sure why he didn't say it out loud. Not even in a dream.

"Besides, so-called defectives make the world interesting, don't they?"

The compartment latches of the dolls shut with a click, hiding the hollow spaces inside. He hardly noticed when Rosi's shadowy eyes lifted, staring at the spot where his own heart should beat.

"So desperate to fill the hole inside."

He crooked his middle finger and pinky. The toys stood to attention, stumbling and shaky like newborn fawns. He had them totter to the edge of the raft and stick their heads in the waves.

Doflamingo's laugh echoed and echoed into the sea. Rosi looked pale. He looked sick and sad.

Why?