#(I kept finding typos&errors in my story until the very last moment--sorry again mods!

[majoraop]

Here you are my full fanfic for the @mothersea-zine: it’s about Doflamingo‘s backstory but it contains spoilers up to the Reverie Arc. Please also check the fanzine blog to watch/read the others contributions and to download the whole zine for free!  ^^

Paradise Lost

Unseen by his family, the child wept.

He was just ten, but the enraged mob didn’t spare him or his younger brother. Years of violence and oppression had hardened their hearts: all they wanted was revenge against the Celestial Dragons that had enslaved them or their loved ones. And now, two children and their father were at their mercy: blindfolded and tied, unable to move or fight back. When an arrow pierced Doflamingo, he uttered a sharp cry. His little body was hanging over a large fire that was consuming the building. The wall pressing against his back was trembling as portions of the palace started crumbling on themselves, and only frail ropes kept him from falling into the cruel flames. The heat was unbearable and the smoke filled his lungs, but worst of all were his younger brother’s cries: Roci was babbling between the sobs that he wanted to die, his words muffled but still unmistakable as he begged in his tiny, broken voice. Rage took Doflamingo over. “I won’t die!” he screamed. “Whatever you’ll do, I’ll survive and kill you all!!!” It was then that a criminal gang, observing the lynching from the sidelines, witnessed an incredible scene: all the people in the mob collapsed as if hit by an invisible force, foam at their mouths and eyes rolling backwards. “Conqueror’s Haki,” murmured the gang’s leader, a slimly old man with malicious eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Haki was a manifestation of someone’s ambition, and only people destined to rule had the rarest variation of it. Apparently, that screaming child was destined to be a king. --- Doflamingo could barely sleep at night. While the scars on his body had faded, nightmares still haunted him even weeks after that terrible day. Sometimes, he even relived the experience while awake, memories flashing uncontrollably through his scarred mind. He often found himself trembling without any apparent reason, but tried to hide the fear gripping his heart from showing in his eyes: he had always worn shades, so that was relatively easy to do at least. What Doflamingo didn’t even try to hide, though, was his hatred for his father. It was his fault if they had left their homeland, the Holy Land Mary Geoise, renouncing the privileges granted by their blood and lineage. It was his fault if they had needed to run away from their new home and hide in a horrible shack in a smelly landfill. It was his fault he and his younger brother were forced to eat garbage from trash cans, with the constant fear of being beaten by other derelicts living in that ill-famed area of the island. It’s your fault mother has died in this lowly, hellish world! Doflamingo clenched his little fists and gritted his teeth, promising to himself he would do anything to go back to the Holy Land he had been exiled from. He would take Roci with him too, but first their father needed to pay for what he made them go through. Though still a child, Doflamingo had grown to hate that naïve and useless man more than any other person in the world. --- “I’ll give you power.” Doflamingo glanced at the leader of the gang who had saved them from the lynching, and then at the two objects he was being offered: a flintlock and a Devil Fruit. He took the first, examined it, and slipped it inside his belt. It was huge compared to his small body, and its pressure against his side made him feel safe. Next, he grabbed the pear-shaped fruit and looked at it suspiciously. He had heard of those cursed fruits, but he had never seen one before. “Its name is ‘Ito Ito no Mi,’” the old man explained. “Not a rare and powerful Logia, but a Paramecia: harder to use in an effective way, but more fitting the intelligence and wisdom of a King.” Doflamingo nodded in acknowledgement, and then took a bite of the pallid fruit. The taste was awful, but not much worse of what he had been forced to eat in that hellish world. He stoically chewed the morsel and then swallowed it. He felt a strange wave of energy running through his body, and when he focused his mind on the image of strings near-invisible threads materialized and grew from his fingers. “As expected from our future King!” The old man clapped his hands, excited. “It’s rare for a Devil Fruit user to be able to use their powers right away, but you managed to do it!” Doflamingo listened to him silently. He wasn’t sure that was such a big deal… those were just strings! How could such fragile things be useful to him? As if reading his mind, the man said, “Still, mastering it will take time. But don’t worry, Doffy: these powers will become useful to you one day.” Doflamingo nodded at him again. He did have patience, and would study and train hard if that was necessary to gain his original status and privileges back. But there may be an easier way… A dark expression on his face, Doflamingo turned on his heel and searched for an isolated area to try a few things with his new powers. --- A tall man had his knees on the ground and a pistol pointed at the back of his head. Behind him stood a child, his little body quivering with anger and his hand barely managing to hold the large weapon. “Stop, brother! Stop!!!” a younger child cried and threw himself into the man’s arms, sobbing. Doflamingo ignored him and yelled at their father, “It’s all your fault!” You killed mother… “You can’t fix what you did, but we’ll bring your head to the Holy Land in order to be accepted there again!” …It’s all been your fault!!! The child steeled himself and closed Roci’s desperate cries off, preparing to shoot. Surely, by killing that traitor of their clan he and Roci would be accepted back into the Holy Land. Surely, that would put an end to their current miserable life, to the pain, to the starving. Surely, he was doing the right thing… And yet, a small part of him maybe wished for their useless father to stop him, to act as an adult for once and take the lead. Maybe, their father would finally take his responsibility and let him be a simple child. However, Homing simple turned to look at his son with a pathetic expression on his face and whispered, “I’m sorry you’ve had a terrible father like me.” Furious, Doflamingo pulled the trigger.

--- A child was flying under the ruthless, scorching sun. That wasn’t really “flying” actually but a trick made possible by Doflamingo’s magical strings, which he attached to the dense white clouds of that windy summer afternoon. According to legends, dragons flew through the skies by creating clouds and climbing up to the heavens thanks to them; one day Doflamingo had tried to do the same with the clouds drifting across the sky, and to his surprise it had worked! He had read about the White Sea and the islands in the sky in the books his new family had provided him with, but he hadn’t imagined he could actually reach them with his strings… Even then, learning to “fly” hadn’t been an easy task: a few times he had risked falling into the sea, which would have resulted in sure death since Devil Fruit users couldn’t swim. To make things harder, right now the child was weighted down—and not just physically—by the bundle tied on his back: the fabric wrapped his father’s severed head, and even if the cloth was thick blood had still managed to resurface and had stained Doflamingo’s tattered shirt. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the damp sensation on his back as he latched onto the clouds with his strings, slowly proceeding to his destination: the Red Line. He would avoid both sides of the Red Port—the only official access to the Holy Land—and instead climb the rocky ring that divided the ocean into two separate halves. Doflamingo was sweating profusely for the exertion, but with a last twitch of his fingers and a carefully aimed swing he finally landed. It was evening already but he decided to keep going, ignoring not just the cold wind blasting against the steep rocky wall but also the hunger and the thirst—he hadn’t brought water or anything to eat with him not to further weigh himself down—as he half-climbed and half-flew to the top of the Red Line. His eyes fixed upwards, the child never looked down at the hellish world he wanted to leave behind. --- The moon was high in the night sky when the exhausted child finally climbed one of the long stairs leading to the Pangea Castle. Doflamingo intended to bring his father’s head to the Gorosei, the “Five Elder Stars,” who were the highest-ranking World Nobles. That would be proof of his loyalty to them, and he would then request to be accepted back among the Celestial Dragons together with his brother and the people who had saved them. Nobody was around at that late hour so Doflamingo managed to enter the Pangea Castle unnoticed, but he had only been there once before his family left Mary Geoise so he eventually got lost. He walked along dark and empty corridors, up and down stairs, across large rooms and luscious courtyards. After what felt like hours, the child finally ended up in what he assumed was the basement of the castle. It was cold down there, and he wondered if he should go back upstairs: it was unlikely that the Gorosei were in such place. And yet, something inside him spurred Doflamingo to explore that lonely area of the building a bit more. Not long later, the child stepped into a freezing chamber with niches on its walls. A faint glowing had drawn him there, and he took a few silent steps closer to the source of that ghostly light. When he finally reached the only illuminated niche he stared curiously at the giant straw hat inside it, which looked ancient and frozen in time. Doflamingo reached with his small hand to touch the relic, but a voice yelled from the end of the chamber, “Who is there?” Then, a figure cladded in dark clothes and wearing a peculiar headgear, tall and narrow, emerged from the shadows. Startled, the child jolted and turned his head, but he regained his composure almost immediately. “I’m Donquixote Doflamingo,” he replied, “and I want to see the Gorosei.” “Your family has been exiled, and you shouldn’t be here anyway. Guards!” the stranger called through a den den mushi. A few moments later, a group of soldiers appeared at the entrance of the chamber and asked, “What’s happening, Your Majesty?” “Take this whelp away—no, wait, it’s better if you kill him.” Doflamingo’s blood froze. “You can’t do that!” he screamed. “I’m a Celestial Dragon too—a god!!!” “No,” the tall figure with cold eyes retorted, “you’re just a mere human now.” Doflamingo gritted his teeth, rage building up inside him. A moment later he dashed towards the door, cutting down the soldiers with his strings. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back and kept running, enduring the lightness in his head and the pain in his feet: he hadn’t had water or food for nearly a whole day, and his body was nearing its limit. The child ran and ran, clinging to life and unwilling to give up: he didn’t understand why his plan hadn’t worked, but he wouldn’t die there. Doflamingo cursed his father, his fate—heaven itself!—but never let go of his ambitious spirit as he dodged or got ridden of the soldiers sent after him. After a while he got lost again, but this time he ended up in a large chamber with a throne towering above him: sitting on it was the same person he had met in the basement of the castle. “It’s here!” the tall figure stood up and yelled into the den-den mushi. Doflamingo didn’t have time to catch a breath as soldiers rushed into the room to murder him. With no other way out, he threw himself at the nearest stained glass window. A crashing sound was followed by colourful shards being shattered around. They cut the child’s delicate skin and he screamed. The glass had also torn the fabric wrapped around his father’s head, which rolled across the floor and stopped only when it hit Doflamingo’s feet. He looked down at those empty eyes staring at him and screamed again, tears now freely running down his face as the full weight of what he had done finally hit him. And yet Doflamingo still didn’t stop, still didn’t give up. He found an escape route out of the Pangea Castle and rushed outside: he was safe. However, his thoughts kept running in circles: killing his own father hadn’t granted him and Roci access back to Mary Geoise; they were still stuck in the lower, hellish world. It’s all been useless. --- The child had miraculously managed to leave the Red Line alive, but once back to his new family a bitter surprise awaited him: his brother had disappeared. Doflamingo secretly searched for Roci for months, but to no avail. Eventually, he gave up and focused on just surviving. Following his escape from Mary Geoise, assassins had started being sent after him. He was forced to grow fast and to become smarter, stronger, ruthless. He couldn’t go back to the Holy Land, but was determined not to succumb. And to achieve that, he accepted to become the King of this hellish world. For a long time the youth fled from island to island with his family, and when they finally found a little peace in Spider Miles he promised to himself that one day he would drag to the ground the Celestial Dragons that hadn’t accepted him back. In order to do that, though, he needed even more power, even more influence. Tirelessly, the young man studied the history of the world; he even read about myths and legends, not wanting to risk overlooking anything potentially useful to his cause. Then, one day he finally decided his next move: he would start with taking back Dressrosa. After all, that kingdom had once been his family’s—but that was before the Donquixote had joined the other nobles that had united most of the countries under the current World Government. Doflamingo laughed to himself, thinking about how easy it would be to take control of that island. Obviously, he had researched it: its current king was a naïve, foolish man who reminded him of his own father. Triggered by those memories, flashbacks of his childhood suddenly assaulted Doflamingo. The smirk on his face disappeared and he started sweating, his head spinning so much he had to sit down. He took some deep breaths to calm himself while frantically checking his surroundings, but luckily nobody from his family was around. I am their King… I can’t show weakness to them. A king couldn’t falter, couldn’t cry, couldn’t touch the ground with his knees or bow to anybody. I need to be invincible… or even better, immortal. --- At last, the plan to gain control over Dressrosa had been fully defined. At that time, Doflamingo was still living in Spider Miles with his family—and also pirate crew: a varied and eccentric group of people who had naturally accepted him as their King and had always supported him. He couldn’t really feel love anymore, but he did his best to protect them. Besides, he needed their help to invade Dressrosa in order to become its rightful King. Then, I will show you my dream: destroying this hellish world ruled by the Celestial Dragons. However, to reach his goal he had to become the king of the underground first. Doflamingo assumed the “Joker” alias, but he had another moniker too. It was only known by the few people in the world aware of his identity, who appropriately called him “Heavenly Yaksha”—a demon descended from the heavens. Doflamingo smirked: that sounded fitting for a fallen Celestial Dragon like himself… Anyway, while as the “Joker” he easily took control of the slave market, he actually aimed to become a weapons and fake Devil Fruits smuggler. He needed more men and facilities to realise that, though. First, I will gain control over Dressrosa and use it as our new operations base. Doflamingo had already started to move his pawns towards that objective, when something unexpected happened. --- One freezing winter night, just when the wind calmed down, the brother Doflamingo had thought lost forever appeared before him. …Roci? Fourteen years had passed since the last time he had seen him, but those amber eyes and thick blond hair were unmistakable. Feeling something he couldn’t really put his finger on, Doflamingo ignored his suspicions and moved automatically: he didn’t hug his brother, but put his pink feather coat over his shoulders to shield him from the snow that was falling down heavily. Rocinante didn’t move or speak, his eyes staring at the ground. “When you disappeared… what happened to you back then?” Rocinante didn’t answer and just shook his head. Doflamingo didn’t know if his brother’s inability to speak was related to him killing their father, but he didn’t care: what was done was done, but from now on he would protect his little brother. “Come with me,” he told him. His brother nodded and followed him inside the Donquixote Pirates headquarters. In the following days, Doflamingo tried to communicate with Rocinante a little more. He gave him some paper sheets and a pen, and that way they were able to share some words and simple phrases. Rocinante’s reserved personality didn’t help though, so he couldn’t learn much about what had happened to him during all those years of separation. Even then, he kept ignoring the warning voice inside him: he didn’t want to distrust his own brother. Other than having lost his voice, Rocinante had apparently become clumsier than ever while growing up. He often slipped and fell on the floor or even put himself on fire—the smoking habit he had picked up not really helping with the latter. That aside, he was surprisingly skilled when it came to investigation and sailing. Not long after Rocinante’s arrival, Doflamingo decided he would assign him missions too. But before that, his brother needed an alias like the rest of his family. Doflamingo remained pensive for a moment, and then said, “When we’ll take back Dressrosa you’ll occupy the Heart Seat, so you’ll be ‘Corazon.’” Rocinante simply nodded as he always did when he agreed with his decisions, and also accepted the black feather coat Doflamingo had had made especially for him. The next day, when his brother was about to leave for his first mission, Doflamingo stared at him and asked, “What’s that?” Rocinante touched his own face, and then wrote on a piece of paper: “Makeup—to scare enemies away.” “Fufufu… you’re so silly. But it isn’t a bad idea.” Rocinante nodded and put a pair of black glasses on. “Be careful out there,” Doflamingo told him. His brother’s lips opened as if he wanted to say something, but it was just a fleeting moment. “You don’t need to strain yourself… you’ll eventually talk again one day.” Rocinante smiled sadly, and again the voice inside Doflamingo told him that something was wrong. That he should be careful. As his brother walked away, Doflamingo shook his head and murmured, “Please don’t betray me, Roci.” --- Doflamingo couldn’t ignore the evidence anymore and simply accepted it as fact. His younger brother was a traitor: a marine—an undercover agent—sent to spy on him and stop him from taking over Dressrosa. When Rocinante pointed his pistol at him, screaming words of hate and resentment, Doflamingo took out his own flintlock—the same one he had used to kill their father—and shot him down. The fallen god cursed his fate: he had been forced to kill his own blood a second time. --- “That word on your back, ‘Corazon,’ what does it mean? And the name of your crew, ’Pirates of Heart,’ what’s its meaning?!” Doflamingo was confronting Trafalgar D Law, the man who had refused to give him the immortality he sought after. He couldn’t believe his brother had given his life to save someone as miserable as him. “You… you’ll never sit on the Heart Seat! How you dare to carry a heart on you back?!” Intentioned to dispel that curse, those memories of Corazon—of Roci—that kept haunting him, Doflamingo emptied his weapon on Law’s body. It’s over now, he thought, panting. It’s really over. On that very day, though, a different “D” still brought him ruin. The legends were true: people of that accursed clan really were the predators of the gods. --- Donquixote Doflamingo was still alive. Even in solitary confinement in a dark cell of Impel Down, the most infamous prison in the world. Even with his powers suppressed by the heavy seastone chains wrapped around his body, immobilized on the floor with his arms and legs spread open in a cruel parody of the most humiliating memory of his childhood. Even if he had nobody to talk to, his boredom growing day after day and gnawing at his sanity—or what little remained of it. Even in the bottom of hell, Doflamingo was still alive and his ambition was still intact. It had been dented when he had been dethroned and his glasses had shattered, but he had a spare pair of them back on now. And like when he was a child, those shades concealed the fear that sometimes tried to resurface in his eyes. Given his current predicament, Doflamingo wouldn’t be able to protect himself when the assassins still after him would finally strike. But despite that, he still laughed, still plotted, still waited eagerly for those damned Celestial Dragons to be dragged to the ground. Doflamingo had no doubts that, one day, those fake gods would taste some of that hell as well.