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Chapter Text

Coming back from a fishing trip with your small dinghy, you notice something massive and… pink? in the harbor. Was that supposed to be a ship? 

The closer you get, the more you regret taking so many mushrooms last night. Not only did you fall into the ocean once due to your hangover while out fishing, now you’re hallucinating a huge flamingo figurehead on top of a pink ship flanked by flamingo wings. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t even have thought yourself to be creative enough to make this stuff up. 

You guide your boat to go right by the ship’s flank, staring up at it. It doesn’t get better up close. There’s an elderly man who must be at least 200 standing there in the most offensive combination of red and blue you’ve ever seen and right beside him is a large woman with two-coloured hair spinning around and singing something obnoxious. 

But if this is just a fever dream, you might as well approach them, right? You must be safely laying in your bed dreaming all of this, after all. 

“Oi, grannie! Gramps! Who are you?” 

They stare down at you like you’re the person that looks incredibly out of place in this small harbor instead of them. 

“Young maste-e-eeeer!!”, the woman sing-yells and bounces away. 

“Oi! Answer me!”, you yell up. You know, for a fever dream, this is all pretty realistic. You can feel the salty breeze running through your hair and that bath in the ocean earlier felt rather real too. 

The old man doesn’t respond, just staring at you, mumbling something to himself. 

You can hear a loud SWOOSH and then before you know what’s happening, a large man is crouching on the railing of the ship right above you, looking down towards you. He must have some giant genes based on how large he looks even at a distance. 

He scrutinizes you quietly and you blurt out the first thing you can think of, seeing him balance himself on the railing so carelessly, merely the front of his shoes connecting him to the ground. “Be careful! Don’t fall!” 

He looks taken aback before laughing loudly. He throws his head back and now you’re even more concerned for his safety. 

Suddenly, something invisible lifts you out of your boat and up into the air, towards the large flamingo dreamship. Your struggles are useless, it feels like you’ve been bound in place, but there’s no visible reason given. 

The invisible force sets you down almost gently on deck and now you’re even more certain that you must be dreaming. There’s a man who’s half as tall as the mast, another man who looks like a slug bathing in snot, there are tiny kids running around and somebody just tripped and fell over a cannon. Honestly, you find this fever dream rather entertaining. Certainly better than the travelling circus that comes around once every year. 

“I’ve never fallen off of the railing. But thank you for your concern, mother.” 

You whip around at the sound of the voice. The man you’d seen on the railing is now right in front of you. You can barely reach his hips and looking up to meet his face is a distinctly uncomfortable sensation. “No problem.”, you reply bluntly. 

Not knowing what else to say, you take in his appearance. An unbuttoned white shirt, plain orange trousers, set off by a massive pink coat draped around his shoulders. Oh, right. Probably made of flamingo feathers, based on the design of the boat. You’ll have to look up what it means to dream about flamingos. Probably something about fertility, as per usual. 

The large man leans down to inspect you more closely and now you can see that he’s wearing purple sunglasses. On anyone else, you’d call his fashion sense a disaster, but somehow, this man makes it work. Another sign that this is a mushroom-induced fever dream and not reality. 

“Do you have business with us, little caretaker?”, the man inquires. 

You shrug. “Probably? I don’t know where this fever dream will take me next.”

“Fever dream?”, he repeats. “I see.” 

“So, seeing as you’re literally the man of my dreams, what’s your name? Maybe I can look that up in my psychology books too.” 

You never knew lucid dreaming could be so fun. The man seems genuinely startled by your blunt approach - but he’s a figure in your dream, shouldn’t he be aware that he exists only in your dream? At least by your usual dream logic he should be. You were getting a headache thinking about this too much. 

He catches himself quickly. “Donquixote Doflamingo. At your service, madame.” He bows dramatically and you can catch a brief glimpse of his eyes as he does, crinkling with delight at the mystery unfolding before him. 

The elderly man looks like he’s about to have a stroke seeing Doflamingo bow. Probably not an unfounded worry in his old age, you think to yourself. He waves around his hands, his expression pained. “Sir, are you alright?”, you ask him worriedly, trying to see if he’s able to control the left side of his face. At least you’re pretty sure that’s what you need to look for when somebody has a stroke, you couldn’t tell for sure. You pat his cheeks forcefully, trying to figure it out. 

Doflamingo pulls you back, prying you off of the old man gently. “It’s all good, little nurse.” 

“I’m a fisher. Not a nurse.”, you correct him promptly. 

Doflamingo completely ignores your correction, speaking as if though he hadn’t heard you. “Tell me, little nurse - have there been any rumors of devil fruits appearing on this island or any of the neighbouring ones lately?”

“No? Not that I know of.” Aha! So maybe your dream would take you on the hunt for a devil fruit. 

“Most unfortunate. I’d heard rumors… but alas, oftentimes humans embellish their stories senselessly.” His voice is laced with genuine regret. 

Doflamingo invites you for tea and you’re all too happy to accept. It’s strange, having this much downtime in a dream with nothing happening. Usually your dreams are more action-filled than this. 

Come late afternoon, after his associates scoured the island for any useful information, Doflamingo gives the orders to set sails again. He turns to you. “It’s time for you to go home, little caretaker.” 

You bristle, putting your hands on your hips. “What?! That’s not how this works! I’m the main character here. You don’t get to just throw me off the ship and hunt for devil fruits on your own. I won’t stand for it!” 

Once more Doflamingo seems more than just a little taken aback. “The main… character?”, he muses. “Very well. If you work for your meals, you’ll be allowed passage on the ship. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” 

You’re surprised how tired you feel at this point. Sure you’d spent all day out fishing and out in the sun, but this was just a mushroom induced delirium. Oh well, no point in thinking about it too much. 

It isn’t until you wake up the next day in a foreign bed, entirely unfamiliar with your surroundings, that you realize that you have made a colossal mistake. 

Chapter Text

It had been a political marriage. You were the daughter of a highly influential and wealthy family and so Doflamingo chose you. 

He went about it sneakily. If you hadn't been born expecting people to only be after their own benefit, if you hadn't had the pleasure of receiving the best education money could buy, you might have missed it. You might have thought that he really was in love with you. 

He wasn't. He charmed his way into the relationship, going so far as to make you doubt your own trust issues until you yourself put in a favourable word with your father when Doflamingo asked for your hand. 

Doflamingo himself was of noble birth, yet his father had given all of their wealth away to charity, something that Doflamingo resented greatly, as he'd admitted to you in private. Because of that "noble" action Doflamingo had had to fight his way to the top, starting at a lowly working job when rightfully he should have been born into the lap of luxury. 

For you, it was something you admired. It meant that Doflamingo actually knew more about life than anyone else who had been born into wealth and swum in it for all their lives. For Doflamingo it was a stain on his reputation, a dishonor that tarnished his prestige, a disgrace that he spoke of with nothing but spite and hatred in his voice. 

You didn't like when he got that way. To you, the fact that Doflamingo now held a secure leading position in your father's company meant that things were well now and that the past, of whatever nature it may be, wouldn't be a problem anymore. He didn't share your views.

When he got that way, he would scare you. He would pace up and down the living room angrily, veins throbbing on his forehead, cursing his father in such colourful words that it left a bitter taste in your mouth and on your marriage.

Doflamingo didn't mind you much. You lived together, but the maids and chef did all of the housework for you, so there was no need to arrange for anything between each other. You accompanied him to each social gala, each event and outing without fail, but sometimes you wondered if you could even consider the two of you to be friends. You helped him with his political aspirations, you supported him where you could, but it felt hollow, like you were only helping yourself by helping him at the end of the day. 

Things changed when your father died. His will arranged for Doflamingo to inherit everything, the company, the place in parliament, even the shares that had been promised to you became Doflamingo's. You didn't mind losing some of your inheritance. You missed your father genuinely and didn't care about having a little more or less money, you were well enough provided for as it was. 

Doflamingo however, became insufferable. Your father's position freeing up meant that Doflamingo could be crowned the new king of business and that development was one you deeply regretted. It meant that Doflamingo could now get away with essentially anything and boy did he abuse his power. First he made his own father's life a living hell, sending lawsuit after lawsuit after lawsuit. 

You'd talked to Doflamingo's mother in secret and given her and her husband financial aid when Doflamingo had tried to ruin everything they had, the small farm they'd built for themselves where they grew crops in peace. 

After the lawsuits came the genetically modified bacteria that Doflamingo set loose on the farm, destroying an entire year's worth of hard work. When you found out during your weekly visit, Homing had tried his hardest to pretend he hadn't been crying. Losing the crops was one thing, but the Donquixotes were utterly heartbroken at having their only son be so monstruos towards them. 

When you find plans for killing the cattle at the farm in Doflamingo's office while looking for a book he'd borrowed from you, you decide you've had enough. You approach him in the living room, where he's laying languidly, browsing through some newspaper. "I've had enough." 

"Enough of what, darling?", he responds, sounding utterly bored as he doesn't bother to raise his eyes from the newspaper. 

"You.", you state simply. 

"That does tend to happen in most marriages." Doflamingo is still not looking up, reaching out and sipping on his cup of tea. 

"You've done enough to your parents." 

Doflamingo lowers his newspaper. "Ah." He scrutinizes you for a moment. "I know that you helped them."

You had assumed he'd learn about it before long. It wasn't that he didn't allow you freedom - but he still tracked every single penny on your bank accounts like a hawk. 

"You're going too far, Doflamingo." 

He scoffs. "If I hadn't made it on my own, I'd be piss poor like those peasants. My father deserves to know what kind of poverty he tried to subject me to." 

"And what of your mother? You'll willingly let her suffer just to harm him?"

That's his weak point. His face hardens and he glares at you. "She's not suffering." 

Now it's your turn to glare. "Don't give me that. Of course she's suffering. You're ruining her happiness. Do you think she wants her only son to be at war with her husband?" 

He nearly snarls. "I've offered her to move in with us if she leaves that bastard." 

"What?!" That's the first time you've ever heard of that. "You're kidding." 

"She refused like it wasn't even an option." He seems rather upset about that. 

You scoff. "Yeah, because she's the last line of defense between you and him. If she did move in with us, god knows what you'd do to him next." 

He doesn't seem surprised. You're sure he's had these thoughts countless times. "Good riddance.", he mumbles. 

"Riddance? Is that going to be your final move? First you ruin him financially, then you destroy all of his hard work and finally you want to what? Assassinate him?" You can't believe this. 

"The world would be better off without him." He says it so matter-of-factly like he's had this thought quite a few times. Of having his own father killed. You wonder if he's ever thought of doing it himself. 

You inhale shakily. "Either you change, or I'm divorcing you." 

Now that gets a reaction out of him. His head whips in your direction, eyes boring into yours. "You won't." 

"No? Why not? The conditions of my father's will clearly state that everything is given back to me in case of divorce."

He gets up impossibly quickly, standing before you, looking down at you with a gaze so intense that it takes all of your training to retain your schooled neutral expression. "You need me." 

You huff in disbelief. "Need you? Need you? Seriously?" 

Doflamingo nods, his gaze attempting to hypnotize you with the intensity of it alone. "You do." 

You narrow your eyes as you glare up at him. "I don't need anything from you. I barely know you, even after all of this time together. But what I do know is that I won't stand for this. Your parents are good people. I won't let you continue to harm them." 

An icy expression sets on Doflamingo's face. "You would choose their side over mine? After everything I've done for us? For you?"

You laugh bitterly. "Everything you've done? What you've done is further my father's business. We have so many millions upon billions of beri that it doesn't make a damn difference anymore. You haven't acted like a proper husband for a single day since I've met you. I'm tired of watching you be a bastard towards your only living relatives. You never know how much longer they'll be around, yet all you do is fucking torment them." The curse slips out before you can stop yourself. You've spent too many hours training your manners into perfection, you can't even remember the last time you cursed so freely. 

"My father deserves every bit of torment that comes his way.", Doflamingo insists. 

"Then you deserve every bit of inconvenience that will come your way from this divorce." Your eyes are steely, unwilling to budge even in the slightest. 

You hadn't expected your blackmail to be as effective as it had. In fact you had been more than surprised when Doflamingo, after a few days of consideration that you'd allowed him, had suddenly started being nice to you. Not polite. Not cordial. Actually, genuinely nice. He struggled a bit at first. He offered making you a coffee and then messed it up a good few times before he finally got it right. But he started trying to do little things to win your favor little by little. 

He still pursued his plans to make his father's life a living hell. Until you threatened with divorce again. And again. And again. 

You invited his mother over. She'd previously been caught in the crossfire between her husband and her son and so she hadn't felt as if though she could visit without choosing one over the other. 

You're surprised at how sweet Doflamingo acts around his mother when his father isn't present. Almost as if though he actually knew what love was. 

Things get better. Gradually. Doflamingo's mother tells you about the progress on the farm. Doflamingo gives her some expensive super-speed fertilizers that are supposed to help out a lot and so they do. It's a peace offering.

A year down the line, you've progressed to the point where Homing is allowed to visit you and Doflamingo at the mansion. He only ever visits in company of his wife, but things mostly work out. Doflamingo is still incredibly petty and leaves out few opportunities to insult Homing grievously, but Homing's skin gets thicker with every visit until eventually he starts countering Doflamingo's insults, turning them into some very harsh but somehow simultaneously funny banter sessions. 

You and Mrs Donquixote start taking bets on which of them will come out victorious for each of the verbal sparring matches. You've got no chance against her. She knows both of the men far better than you do and you lose quite a lot of money to her, but you don't mind. You keep betting on Doflamingo just because of some strange sense of loyalty, but with every meeting Homing gets better and Doflamingo seems to lose his fire to be as vicious as he once had. You're glad for it. 

These days, he invites you out for dinner at least once every week. Sometimes you got to fancy restaurants, but mostly you go to a small pub that Doflamingo had discovered during his working days. It's small, cozy and most importantly, nobody recognizes you there. You get the chance to just be yourselves without any cameras flashing or people spying on you. 

You discover that he doesn't need to try and be charming - it comes to him naturally, once he discovers his feelings for you.

You may have been married for five years already, but it takes eight for the two of you to genuinely warm up to each other and fall in love. 

Doflamingo's new favourite saying is: "Other people are done with their marriages at this point. We've only just begun. We're doing something right." 

You hit him over the back of the head when he says that every time. Intelligent as he may be, he is a godforsaken idiot. But at least he's an idiot that's capable of fixing his mistakes and becoming a better person. One that you find you are content to be married to, flaws and all. 

Chapter Text

"I'm so excited for tonight!", your best female friend squeals on the bed beside you, grinning at you as she munches on some snack, legs swaying behind her. "Do you really think he's gonna show?" 

"Yeah. Without fail. He's been doing it every night for a week now."

Your best friend giggles. "How exciting! Your very own minstrel." 

You roll your eyes in exasperation. "Hardyhar. It's less funny when you're the one whose sleep gets disturbed every single night." 

The sun sets so you and your best friend turn the lights off and sit on the bed in silence, waiting for the man of the hour. 

You don't have to wait for long. Except this time, there's something new. This time, you can distinctly hear the clatter of hooves. Great. It's getting more ludicrous by the night. 

You and your friend sneak to the window to look out. On the lawn in front of your house comes ridden a knight - or somebody who's trying to look like one, at least. It's twilight out so you can't make out the exact details, but his shadowy form appears to be wearing some large kind of helmet as he comes ridden on his horse. 

He clears his throat and then announces loudly. "I come forth to serve thee once more, my beloved. May mine presence scatter away all that is evil, for that you shall sleep the righteous sleep of the just." 

You can faintly make out your best friend's wide eyes in the dim light coming in from outside. She's pressing a hand against her mouth in order not to burst out laughing. 

You sigh internally as the next part of the man's performance begins. The recitation of poems that he claims to have written himself, just for her. 

"Oh sweet and tender Dulcinea, 

How I long to see thine soft visage once more. 

How mine heart breaks at the distance that separates us, 

How mine soul cries out for it has been split apart from thee. 

If only there was any chance for my eyes to behold your beauty, oh, once more, 

Then, and only then, could I die happily." 

"Dramatic much?", your friend whispers. She risks leaning up a little higher to get a better look at the man, but you pull her back down inbefore she alerts him to your presence. He's yet to get to the best part, after all. 

"Alas, your presence makes itself not known once more -

I, your faithful servant, will wait with patience rivalling the gods. 

Rest assured that I, Don Quichotte, will do everything in mine own power, 

To gather fame and fortune alike, 

For that in the distant future, when once more I shall be blessed with thine appearance, 

I may propose to thee." 

Your best friend boxes you in the side and you nod in response. Now's the time. 

You'd set up some floodlights in front of the house with her earlier today and now you're reaching over to turn them on. You've been incredibly curious just what kind of man it is that has been disturbing your sleep every night. 

When the lights turn on, the man cries out in pain, shielding his eyes. "What devilry is this?", he cries. 

You had been right earlier. He was actually wearing a helmet. But at a closer look it looks like it's about to fall apart, or at least so the cardboard patches suggest. 

The mighty horse that your knight had ridden into your lawn on was not so mighty either, after all - in fact it looked like a thin donkey, legs shaking underneath the weight of its rider. 

What really takes your breath away is the appearance of said rider. Based on his physique he must be a young man, maybe 20-30 years of age, not the kind of person you'd ever expect to speak in such flowery talk. 

He takes off his helmet, still covering his face and cries out. "Clemency! Please! I have no interest in thee, satan!" 

Now you're getting a proper look at his face and it floors you. He's handsome. Breathtaking, even. He's a tall, blonde man with strikingly sharp cheekbones. If you'd met him in the mall, you wouldn't have minded him asking you out. But coming to your house night after night? That certainly was a bit much. Especially since your name wasn't even Dulcinea. 

"Who are you?", you yell down towards him. 

He shudders at hearing your voice, straightening up on his poor old donkey. "Can it be? Ay me, she speaks! Oh speak again, bright angel!" 

You snort at being addressed in such a fashion. "Yes, I speak! Now answer me! Who on earth are you?" 

The man gets off of his donkey and bows, getting down on one knee as he does so. "I am but your most faithful servant, my lady! My name is Don Quichotte and I carry in my heart the greatest delight that you have chosen to speak to me this night. No greater blessing could be-"

You interrupt him quickly. "Yes, yes, okay, I get it. Why are you doing this?" 

He looks startled. "Wherefore? Mine only reason for existing is to court you, my lady! To fill your heart only with the greatest of joys and pleasures known to all of mankind.  'Tis a steep quest for a lowly knight such as myself, but I shall venture forth with only the most sincere of intentions and-"

You cut him off once again. "Seriously, are you doing like a theatre play or something? Can you talk normally for a sec? Please?" 

He looks almost offended at the notion. "My lady, thou art not deserving of commonspeak, for in the presence of beauty such as thine such foul words would taint the angelic glow that surrounds you!" 

You don't feel like you're getting anywhere with this. "Okay, whatever, can you stop doing this every night? It was funny the first night, even though I don't know you and it's kinda creepy since you're a stranger, but the joke has run its course now, okay?" 

He clutches at his heart as if though you'd just shot him with an arrow. "Dost thou not wish for mine feeble attempts at bringing you joy, my lady? Have my foolish words really had such an effect, that thou would cast me off with no concern for my humble heart which has been sworn to none but you for all of eternity?" 

Your best friend pipes up and yells out of the window. "Dude, you're hot so we won't call the police on you, but piss off!" 

"What? What does him being hot have to do with anything?", you chide her. 

"Oh. Uh. Yeah.", she responds to you before shouting once more. "Okay well if you keep this up then we will call the cops regardless of how good you look!" 

It's hard to make out exactly what he says, but he mumbles something like "Rocinante, we must go for we are not welcome here at my fair lady's court any longer." 

His shoulders slump and he drags his feet as he walks off, dragging his donkey behind him by the reigns. You feel almost bad watching him like this, but then again, you miss being able to sleep peacefully. 

"Man I wish cool stuff like this happened to me too.", your friend sighs. 

You snort. "Trust me, I wish it happened to you instead of me too." 

"Do you remember that guy who said he'd uproot a tree bare-handed to prove his love to you?" 

You laugh. "How could I not remember? He tore some muscle in his arm and had to go to the hospital." 

"Men always do the craziest things for you." Your friend's voice is laced with envy. 

Your knight in shining armor doesn't reappear after that night. You're glad since the only reasonable explanation seems to be that he must have broken out of a looney bin (or read one too many books on knights and their ladies) but still, part of you misses him. He'd seemed so earnest, no matter how melodramatic his words and actions had been. 

It isn't until ten years down the line when fate would have you meet this very man again. You've become the CEO of your company and are to meet with the CEO of a different company for a new business deal. The location is a beautiful five star hotel at the seaside in a foreign country, courtesy of your future business partner. 

When you get there you notice him stand by the poolside, glass of champagne in hand. He turns around as you approach and when you see his face recognition immediately lights up both yours and his alike. It's him. The melodramatic donkey knight. 

His eyes widen with shock, then his entire face turns more red than the sunset in the stunning backdrop behind him. 

He had been drunk, is what he tells you at first. He'd been an alcoholic when he was younger, is his explanation. He'd messed up his brain so much that it had seemed like a good idea at the time. You don't really buy it. Most drunks couldn't form a cohesive sentence, let alone speak such flowery talk while drunk. 

He acts perfectly normal now and you seal the business with him. The memories of what had transpired in your lawn all those years ago seem like a fever dream now and if it wasn't for the embarassment you see in his eyes every time he looks at you, you'd have thought you made it all up. 

It isn't until a few years later, when you've become married to him, that he admits to having had a massive crush on you back then. He'd noticed you during your lessons for one of your favourite hobbies and everyone had told him you'd be out of his reach, so he'd made up a desperate plan. 

He'd don the knight's armor that had been in possession of his family for generations if not centuries and state his love firmly and openly. The rejection was sure to come no matter which approach he chose, after all. He feels silly looking back on it now, but he does call you his Dulcinea affectionately every now and then. 

When you first introduce your fiancee to your former best friend, she absolutely loses it. She can't stop laughing for nearly half an hour, and she never really manages to take your later-husband seriously. 

As for you? You're happy. Now whenever any man wants to do something stupid for you, you point to your ring finger and say that you're already happily married to a delusional lunatic. That usually shuts them up.

Even further down the line, when you give birth to your daugther, Doflamingo gently suggests calling her Dulcinea. "You named your donkey after your brother. I don't trust your strange naming ideas."; you tell him. But the both of you ocassionally call her "Dulce" as a nickname, befitting of her sweet disposition. Doflamingo reads her tales of knights and fairies which she loves more than any other. 

Chapter Text

When the tyrannosaurus bites Doflamingo's arm off, he feels nothing. 

Not that he should. 

If there's one thing Doflamingo prides himself on, it's contingency plans. 

Approaching the dinosaur (since when are there dinosaurs on Little Garden?) had seemed unwise, so he sent his string clone forth. 

A thoughtful decision that paid off handsomely now, as the tyrannosaur spit out the severed arm. He's never tried them himself, but the strings can't possibly taste good. 

Using his conqueror's haki, he tames the wild beast. It's a bit taller than him and appears to be able to carry him with ease. 

The Family cheers when he returns to the ship bringing a small army of dinosaurs with him. 

He gestures at Diamante. "We're taking these with us. Maybe we can train some to help us for specific missions. As for the big carnivores, have the gladiators in the colosseum face up against them. But make sure they don't get killed." 

Doflamingo doesn't care much for the colosseum fights. They're a good way to show to the citizens of Dressrosa what human nature is really like, to reveal the immoral beasts they truly are, but they've long since stopped entertaining him. It's all the same after a while. 

Having dinosaurs in the arena changes that up for good. Doflamingo feels something like childlike joy seeing these prehistoric beasts run around and eat people. It's almost like playing with toys, except these are real, living animals and they're at Doflamingo's disposal. 

Sometimes he'll play with the Raptors, create a yarn on a string and have it dance around. The Raptors love that like nothing else, even if he still needs to be careful not to lose any limbs to them. 

Chapter Text

The warlord meetings were insufferable for Hancock.N ot that she attended them very often to begin with.

She had been threatened with having her status as a warlord revoked if she didn't attend the current one, which wasn't anything unusual and something she was very happy to ignore as she always did, but the mention of a new warlord having been appointed caught her interest. 

She'd never had much to do with the others - all of them were disgusting pigs, in other words, men, and the only one she could find herself taking a liking to was Jinbe. Which, admittedly, had much to do with the fact that he was a fishman. And a former part of the Sun Pirates. Not only a part of, but a rather important part of, since he'd taken over the command after her hero's death. 

If she had been honest to herself, she would have realized that the only reason she still went to any warlord event at all was because of Jinbe. The tall fishman wielded a strength that was very reminiscent of Fisher Tiger and she'd often pulled him aside to aid him and Fishman Island with resources from the Kuja when need arose. Or at any other time, really. Her debt to her hero ran so deep that she'd have done anything to aid Jinbe and his people. 

When she arrives at the warlord meeting and finds Jinbe's seat vacant, she has half a mind to turn around and walk right back out. 

A stern gaze from Sengoku commands her to stay, which really makes her want to turn him to stone right away. 

But the meeting shouldn't take so long and on the way here she and her sisters had stolen the loot off of quite a few wealthy pirate and marine ships full of degenerated men that lusted after her, so she was in a relatively good mood. 

She strides over to her seat, Salome right by her side, deliberately ignoring the pink something sitting on a balustrade on the balcony adjacent to the meeting. Probably the newcomer, but she'd rather let hell freeze over than admit to her curiosity regarding this person granted they were likely male. 

Most likely they weren't worth her time either way. 

When Sengoku announces that they should begin the meeting soon seeing as neither Jinbe nor Mihawk seemed to be coming, the pink something makes its way from the balcony to the room. 

"I suppose it is time for my introduction. I am Donquixote Doflamingo, the newest addition to the Warlords."

Hancock doesn't bother looking at him. It's a deep voice, undoubtedly male, and judging by the amount of confidence and pride swinging along in that man's voice it's not somebody she is willing to pay any respect to. 

"I appreciate being given the courtesy of being looked at when I am speaking.", Doflamingo adds, his voice laced with an undertone of fake levity. 

The words make Hancock want to look at this ridiculous man even less but she suddenly finds herself looking at him against her will. This wasn't her moving her own head. Some devil fruit? It would have been great for Sengoku to inform her beforehand of just what she'd be facing here with this newcomer. 

Doflamingo is standing on the table in the middle of the room. He's large even by Hancock's standards of being around her sisters Marigold and Sandersonia all the time, although the table adds to the illusion of his increased height, especially since she is seated. 

She feels like he's staring at her, but it's not something that she's able to visually confirm as the view of his eyes is obstructed by purple sunglasses. 

Who did this clown think he was? Coming in here with a pink feather coat and purple sunglasses, acting like he deserved even the slightest bit of respect? His clothes might potentially have looked good on her, but then again she was the most beautiful woman there was and he was but a disgusting man with ridiculously hairy legs that made bile rise in her throat. 

He hasn't said anything since demanding "courtesy" and the silence in the room is starting to be of ridiculous length. The only thing interrupting it is Crocodile's feather pen scratching on paper as he silently does his sudoku, a habit of his when the meetings got boring, which they always were. 

Hearing the sound of the pen, Doflamingo's head whips around to look at Sir Crocodile. A nasty frown mars his already ugly face. "The same goes for you." 

Hancock watches with interest as thin lines appear in Crocodile's body, as if somebody had cut through him with a tiny knife in trying to get a hold of his body. 

Crocodile didn't even look up, he just continued doing his sudoku as if nothing had happened, as if his body hadn't just been separated into five slices. Of course it didn't matter to him, he was made of sand, but Hancock found herself admiring his nonchalance against her will. 

Doflamingo let out something like a quiet hiss before sitting down on the table cross-legged. He waived to Sengoku. "You may begin."

Sengoku seems to want to protest but then sighs and crosses his arms. Hancock had watched the man be ridiculed by most of the warlords at some point, but apparently he was already familiar enough with Donquixote's eccentricities to not bother addressing his behaviour in the first place. 

As Sengoku commences and starts going on about the shift in balance between the powers with a new warlord in action, Hancock notices a faint twitch in Crocodile's lips, as if he was surpressing a smile. She's able to move her head freely again and watches him curiously. Sand trickles down from his body and she realizes that his remaining five slices, which had previously mended back together, had started being cut apart again, even separated into little cubes by being cut into from the sides. 

The spectacle fascinates her and she watches from the side as Crocodile continues to be cut and mend himself back together. Still, he's simply doing his sudoku, laughing this off as if nothing was happening. 

Hancock wonders what the new guy's powers might be. She'd been forced to turn her head against her will, which alluded to something like mind control, maybe? Something to do with her neurons? But what was happening to Crocodile was of an entirely physical nature, which made her suspect that maybe something physical was what had turned her head too. It would have to be something invisible, small and incredibly sharp, although she supposed it didn't take much to tear apart sand. 

The meeting goes by in a daze as Hancock inspects her nails, thinking about why Jinbe might be absent today. He hadn't sent for her help, which he knew he could always do, so he probably wasn't in any type of danger. She knew of his strength either way, so she wasn't particularly concerned for his safety. The fishman oftentimes travelled alone and was not weak in any sense of the word. 

Suddenly, she finds her head being turned against her will once more. She can't exactly decipher where it's coming from, but there seems to be something pulling at her, forcing her to do the invisible force's bidding. 

Once more she is forced to turn her head towards Doflamingo. He mouths silently. "Outside. Later." 

A second too late she realizes that she should have pretended to not be able to read his lips, but the flash of anger, disgust and recoil is all too visible in her eyes, making Doflamingo smile broadly. 

She folds her hands to hide how much they are trembling with rage. Who did this insect think he was? Summoning her to do his bidding? Acting like she had no agency of her own and would simply do as he said? 

Her teeth clench so tighly that it hurts and she puts as much disdain and disgust into her eyes as she can as she continues staring him down. 

He doesn't look away. Not for a second. He doesn't blink, he doesn't falter, not even a muscle on his face twitches. The more he keeps staring at her, the more she wants to go over there, kick him to the ground and dig her heels into his cheeks until they drew blood. 

And still he doesn't falter. She won't lose this staring match. She won't. She won't ever let any man force her into submission ever again and if it costs her her life. 

Her eyes are starting to sting for having been left open for so many minutes now and she has to actively fight her instinct to just close them even for a brief second.

"Doflamingo!", Sengoku's angry voice interjects their staring match. Doflamingo stares at her for another long moment before turning his head so slowly that it sends a clear message of the match being postponed, not forfeited. 

"What?", he snaps at Sengoku, after which Sengoku ropes him into the conversation taking place. 

Hancock is fuming internally. She has a good mind to turn him into stone and shatter the pieces right here and now. It would probably get her title taken away from her instantly, but it would be worth it. How dare this vermin dare to defy her, to challenge her in this way? He needed to be taught a lesson and quickly at that. 

After the meeting is finally over, she strides out of the room purposefully, Salome a little closer to her than when she'd entered. He can read her moods like no other and can easily sense the turmoil within her. On one hand she feels like she's going to combust if she doesn't put this disgusting man into his place. On the other, more sensible hand, she still didn't know the extents of his devil fruit, and she wasn't going to enter a battle without the necessary preparation. Devil fruits couldn't be underestimated unless one wanted to have a very rude awakening. 

As she's nearly outside, something whooshes right past her. It's Doflamingo, having propelled himself forward through some means she can't decipher, effectively blocking her way out. 

"Did I give you permission to leave?", he snaps. Permission? Hancock can feel her rage surge right back up. She needed no man's permission and especially not this clown's. 

She strikes her pose, looking down on him so far that she's looking up again and speaks haughtily. "I don't need your permission, worm." 

Her observation haki warns her, but it's too late. Doflamingo moves with a velocity that belies his tall height, grabbing her by the throat and smashing her against the wall behind her with a force that would have made Hancock's spine crack if she hadn't used haki in time. 

"Worm?", he spits out. She looks up into his face, seeing an almost alarming amount of veins throb on his forehead. He looked angry enough to spontaneously combust. Maybe he'd do her the favor. 

She can barely breathe, so she needs to act fast. Her knee comes up to connect with his crotch but his disgusting, large hand stops her by grabbing her calf, his hand wrapping entirely around it with ease. 

"You dare call me a worm, you worthless bitch?", he snarls. 

Salome springs into action, lunging at Doflamingo's throat. With a burst of conqueror's haki that is strong enough to make itself felt even against Hancock's own, the snake is quickly put out of commission, falling into a heap on the floor. 

She's had enough. Hancock uses her free hand to summon a love love beam, aiming it right at Doflamingo. 

Her rage and disgust turns into shock and then fear when it does absolutely nothing. How could he be immune? This wasn't possible. It simply wasn't. 

Doflamingo scoffs. "Oh, I know all about your powers. People need to lust for you or adore you, isn't that right?" He laughs shortly and the cruel sound makes the hair on her neck raise. "Well, most unfortunately for you, you're nothing but vermin to me. A filthy human that dares defy me. I should kill you right now." 

Disgust blocked her powers? That was new to Hancock. No woman nor man had ever been able to resist her beam. Everyone admired her to some extent. And this horrid man was supposed to be immune? This one man who had her by the throat and seemed to want to kill her? She cursed her fate for attending this horrid meeting in the first place. 

"But perhaps there is other use for you yet. I heard rumors from Marie Geoise, about a small girl and her sisters eating some very specific devil fruits..." 

This time, Hancock can't control her facial features anymore. Her face pales impossibly and her mouth suddenly feels dry. How on earth would he have such specific knowledge from Marie Geoise? No pirate was in contact with them. With those... celestial dragons. She can feel the sweat break out on her skin just from thinking of them. Of the ones she had been forced to be with. She curses her body for such an obvious admission of fear, but she can't help herself. 

Doflamingo cackles. "Oh, yes. The King Cobra and Anaconda model devil fruits. Not ones that are sought after very much, so they might have gone under my radar. But yours, dear Boa Hancock..." He lifts the hand off of her thigh just long enough to stroke a finger against her cheek, in a painfully slow motion that makes her wish she could bite his fingers off right there and then before returning to hold her in place once more. "The Love Love fruit. It's funny how small the world is, you know?" 

His fingers tighten around her throat as he continues, a broad smile adorning his disgusting face that she wishes she could scratch and scratch until nothing but bloody streaks remained. "I happen to know the celestial dragon that was in possession of it. So of course, I was left to make assumptions. How would the pirate empress get in possession of this devil fruit? Marie Geoise hasn't ever been robbed... except for once." 

He stopped, letting the dramatic pause settle. He knew a celestial dragon? How? They would have considered pirates scum and unworthy of communicating with. Hancock knew that all too well from the ones she'd had to serve. They'd never been particularly secretive in her presence, after all she was  just a slave and far more likely to die than to ever be able to tell their secrets to the outside world.

Doflamingo continues his monologue, seeming to enjoy himself in his role of grand exposition. "Fisher Tiger.", he exclaimed. Hancock could curse him just for daring to utter her hero's name. It didn't belong here. Not in such a filthy mouth. "He robbed many celestial dragons of their slaves, freeing fishmen, humans and whatever other races there were alike." 

Doflamingo is now grinning victoriously. "And seeing your reaction simply confirms what I already knew. How'd a little runaway slave like you get into such a position of power, hm?"

Hancock wants to scream, she wants to gouge his eyes out, she wants to cut him apart until he's left bleeding out slowly and painfully for every word he's saying. Being reminded of her past in such a position where she's at the mercy of this volatile man hurts like nothing else, it makes her feel just as powerless as she had been once upon a time, just as powerless as she had been when she was young. She's so angry she could scream, but most embarassingly it is tears of anger that spring forth from her eyes. 

Doflamingo laughs as he sees them. "Oh, don't cry, little slave. I'm sure you missed being told what to do, hm? Simple humans need somebody to lead them, after all. You're all so incapable of making your own decisions." 

Had she had the air to do it, she would have been cussing him out with a million and one different insults. She chokes out a breath and he finally releases her throat long enough for her to speak. "You're a celestial dragon.", she says. 

The way he's been speaking, the way he speaks of humans as if not being one himself, it's the most likely conclusion. 

Doflamingo's mouth sneers with cruelty. "I'm better than those filthy celestial dragons. I was chosen by heaven itself." 

Hancock blinks in surprise. She'd been so sure that he was one, but celestial dragons considered themselves to be the height of creation. Was he one, or was he not? 

"For being chosen by heaven, you sure look ridiculous.", a deep voice intercepts their thoughts. Hancock and Doflamingo's heads alike whip around to look at the passageway from whence they came what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Doflamingo looks incredibly angry at being interrupted, but Sir Crocodile quickly adds. "You're blocking the exit, feather freak." 

Hancock had felt a small margin of hope blossom in her chest at the sound of another voice. She didn't know how to free herself from this position. She was entirely helpless, for the first time since getting to flee Marie Geoise during that fateful night. But Crocodile wouldn't help. She knew he wouldn't. What did he care? He was just another man without empathy that had joined the warlords to amass more riches. He was driven by greed and greed alone, like all men. 

"I'd hoped to get on a little better with you, Sir Crocodile, yet you immediately call me names." Doflamingo has the audacity to sound like he's pouting. 

Crocodile stares at him deadpan. "You just spent an entire meeting cutting me apart with your childish strings." 

Strings. So that's what his power was. Hancock feels enraged at having fallen victim to a devil fruit that seemed as insignificant as that. 

Doflamingo shrugs. "I was bored." 

"That's why I do sudoku.", Crocodile retaliates. Doflamingo sets out to say something, but Crocodile cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Let the girl go." 

Hancock blinks rapidly in surprise. Why should Crocodile care? He doesn't care for her. There's no reason for him to. As insulting as being called a mere girl was, she's not going to argue when in such a precarious position, even though her pride took a deep hit regardless. 

"Why should I?", Doflamingo scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the older man. "Is she your lover?"

That does it for Hancock. Mustering all her strength, she sets out to slap Doflamingo with her hand, but a wall of sand blocks her fist from connecting with Doflamingo's face. Whose side was this sand bastard even on? She glares at Crocodile and he lets the wall of sand disappear as quickly as it had come. 

"That's none of your business.", Crocodile says, as if he hadn't just prevented her from hitting her captor. 

Doflamingo scoffs and surprisingly lets her go. "Fine. I've had my fun." He says and walks out of the building as if he hadn't just awoken Hancock's deepest nightmares and left her the most unsettled mess she'd been in more than a decade. 

"Are you alright?", Crocodile asks calmly as he lights himself a new cigar. 

"Yes.", Hancock states firmly, but the tremble in her voice is neither missed by her, nor him, reducing the conviction and strength she's trying to convey and convince herself of. 

"He's a right bastard." 

"Why did you help me?", Hancock asks, searching Crocodile's eyes for any kind of answer, but all they do is look incredibly bored. 

Crocodile half-shrugs. "He pissed me off during the meeting." 

Hancock silently stares him down, waiting for him to continue. There's no way she just conveniently happened to be saved at the whim of Crocodile having been annoyed by Doflamingo. There's always a motive and nothing is ever as simple as it seems. Men always wanted to further their agendas. 

Crocodile nearly smiles, but only nearly. "I see you're not satisfied with that reason. Fine. Your island is rather closed off from the world. I'd be interested in trading with your nation." 

"You want the propietary right to trade with Amazon Lily?" Now that's a reason that Hancock can understand a lot better. She owes Crocodile now and they both know it. But if he's going to be content with settling this debt with something like trading rights, then she's all too happy with the solution. He could easily have demanded much, much more and they're both aware of the fact. 

"I do." Crocodile blows smoke out of his mouth after taking a long drag of his cigar. 

"Fine. It will happen." 

Crocodile nods as if that settled everything, handing her a transponder snail. "We'll arrange for things soon. I'll be in touch."

He waves lazily, exiting the building the same way Doflamingo had so shortly before. 

Hancock takes a shaky breath. Her mind and emotions are a complete mess and she still feels like screaming from everything that just happened. She walks out of the building, to the Kuja Pirates ship, wrapping the unconscious Salome around her shoulders. He should wake up soon. 

She's going to trade with Crocodile as per his request, but she's never going to attend another warlord meeting. Never again. She would resign if that's what it took. Letting go of her pride like this was hurting her physically, but she couldn't attend any meetings if this disgusting demon of a man knew who she was and what she had been in the past. He had power over her by knowing and she would not give him any opportunity to wave that in her face by showing up to another meeting. 

If it was ever impossible to avoid meeting with this man in her function as a warlord, she'd call Jinbe first and ask for his aid. Fisher Tiger may have climbed the Red Line on his own, but his men had been there for the slaves, carrying them away to safety when they'd all been brought back down from that horrid stretch of land. They hadn't spoken then, but she'd seen a flicker of recognition in Jinbe's eyes when she'd been appointed a warlord. He would help her if she told him about Doflamingo being a celestial dragon. He was a righteous fishman, good and trustworthy. 

Her sisters could tell that something had taken place during the warlord meeting the second they lay eyes on her. They fuss just as much over her as they do over Salome, who's now regaining his consciousness, but Hancock doesn't budge. She can't tell them that there is a man as powerful as a warlord and celestial dragon (maybe? he hadn't confirmed it) that knew of her and their past. Sandersonia especially wouldn't be able to handle what had just happened to Hancock emotionally. She had to be strong for her sisters. She was the eldest, she was the empress and she would not worry her younger siblings with the horrors she had experienced. They had seen enough horrors themselves to last a lifetime. 

She would not let herself be broken and she would not let her sisters carry this new weight that had settled on her shoulders. She could do this, even if it took every bit of strength she knew she possessed.