Chapter 4: Reverie
Summary: An international incident is narrowly avoided.
Violins sing and wind instruments sigh, low horns hoot and the conductor sweats beneath his doublet. He does not want to catch the ire of the seats of the world after all. Or worse, the Gods themselves.
He is afraid, as he should be.
Fury sizzles under Doflamingo's skin, as he is afraid too. But he should not be. He should not be afraid at all, here, home at last in the land of the Gods! His birthright! And yet, they do not deign to glance his way, treat him like . He watches the princesses and princes twirl and whirl across the polished mosaic tile floor. They simper and giggle and whisper and plot under the frescoed ceilings. Stupid little rodents, wide eyed puppies delighted that their masters have let them in for this one night. Oh how gracious the Gods are, how benign, how benevolent.
They won't even look at him.
How satisfying it is to see the Kings and Queens across the world bow and kowtow and pander and kneel and fawn over their betters. The Celestials who do not mingle among the high born commoners, they sip wine that is just worthy enough to be served to them and give the kings and queens something to remember. A chuckle escapes Doflamingo's lips, how utterly hilarious. The rage bubbles in his veins like the champagne in his glass. How easy it would be to sow chaos, just for a few moments. A beautiful instant and his glistening threads would splatter rubies in a spray across the glittering floor.
The stupid Kings and Queens (who believe him to be their equal, the gall) would scream and sob and shit themselves as they fall before him. And the Gods? The Gods, who share his blood, who share his heritage, who own his home of the finest wood and stone! The playroom with the things he could not keep and mother's garden and the slaves who rocked Rosinante to sleep and Father's stupid stupid stupid manifesto on parchment worth a thousand pathetic simpering lives in value, they keep it from him, they won't let him see it, they won't let him march in and take what is his!
Oh how the God's would bleed across the tiles, how their eyes would bulge from their very first instance of pain! Doflamingo's fingers twitch, his lips curl upward, stretching wide over his teeth. Only a God should be a Godkiller! At last they'd see him and know, know that none can escape hubris!
"Whatever you're thinking, don't."
She stands in the corner of his vision, not dressed in finery. Just her uniform, medals pinned to her aging breast. No makeup cakes her face, her wrinkles on display, no dye in her hair to hide her gray. No delicate heels, no garish jewelry.
Vice Admiral Tsuru does not fit here, she sits outside the parthenon, beyond the realm of the pantheon that once swaddled him within its grasp. A bright and beautiful child full of promise for their future now dashed against the rocks.
"Don't ruin my evening," she says.
"Fufufu I would never," Doflamingo's lips stay stretched over his teeth, rigidly locked in place, near white from the pressure. The Vice Admiral shakes her head and sighs.
"Go dance with one of the Princesses. Marriage would do you good. Live in the life you've built. It doesn't do to dwell on the coulds and shoulds."
The coulds and shoulds? Oh ho, his lovely woman has pictured cleansing this world of the gods has she? His eyes crinkle behind his glasses. Of course she has, who doesn't want to slaughter those who slight them? Who would not revel in the power to bring the world to its knees?
He sees them in his peripheral vision. The ants whispering and conspiring. Alliances through blood, the kings and queens wish to marry off their daughters to him. As if a God would breed with dogs. Marriage would do him good? Live in the life he's built? With these⦠imposters, these copy cats, these insects?
"Care to dance with me, Vice Admiral?"
Her lips purse tightly together. He longs to smooth the wrinkles in her brow, yearns to twirl her around and around. Bring the outsider in from the cold. Give her a taste of this world she watches.
"No, now be a good boy and do as you're told." She leaves his side, the ants parting before her to avoid the stench of commoners, the gods themselves lured into a false sense of security by her presence.
Doflamingo laughs.
Notes:
Doffy/Tsuru hhhh
