Chapter Text
Rosinante hated Sabaody.
Technically, that’s not entirely true. He loved the joy and excitement that could be felt in the air. The tasty foods, various shops, and many other wondrous things that made Sabaody so unique. Sure, it could get loud and overwhelming at times. But a quick, subtle application of his Devil Fruit took care of that and gave him a break without having to leave.
So it’d be more accurate to say he hated certain parts of Sabaody.
The auction houses Doffy insisted on dragging him to being at the top of the list.
“Rosi, come on. The auction’s going to start soon,” Doffy griped as Rosinante lingered at the back of their retinue.
Their party stopped and parted, forcing Rosinante to walk to the front and join his brother. He glanced at the building and grimaced. The outside was painted in bright, gaudy colors. People of questionable repute lingered outside, talking amongst themselves.
“Don’t give me that look.” Doffy groaned, then cheerfully slapped Rosinante on the back. “This is the best auction house on Sabaody. You can find just about anything or anyone here. Let’s go make you a proper Celestial Dragon.”
Rosinante had no choice but to follow him inside. The interior was dim with rows and rows of seats angled down towards the brightly lit stage. Most of the seats were filled, numerous voices melding to create a low-level cacophony. As they descended the stairs to their reserved seats, people froze in fear when they saw them. Subconsciously leaning away, quieting their voices, avoiding eye contact, or making themselves smaller.
This was another thing about Sabaody he hated, even if he understood their reactions.
There were times he acted the same way around his godly ‘kin’. Not that Doffy would ever allow anyone to lay a finger on him.
Their seats were lined with plush red velvet, though it hardly mattered with the suit he was forced to wear. With its thick layers, he could sit on concrete, and it wouldn’t hurt.
Doffy leaned over and said, “Try and pick something this time. Mama and I are getting worried about you.”
No, you’re worried about your image. Rosinante doubted their mother was actually worried over why her youngest didn’t have any slaves or “pets” like everyone else. And while he didn’t doubt Doffy’s love for him (or his version of it), his elder brother was quite determined to show their peers they were still like them.
This was the fourth auction house Doffy had brought him to and Rosinante refused to pick any of their… wares. How could he when he could still clearly remember the hatred and anger of those villagers who’d been wronged by his kin? By participating, he’d be justifying their anger and proving he was no better than the next dragon.
That hadn’t stopped Doffy, who grabbed one or two that’d interested him. One such being was Doffy’s personal valet, an overly serious individual named Vergo. Rosinante thinks he might’ve been a Cipher Pol agent at one point who was betrayed, captured, and sold to the highest bidder. He didn’t like the man at all and was confident the feeling was mutual.
The lights moved to the stage, and the host, a sleezy man with a clear flair for dramatics, strode out. “Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to my humble business. We have for you today a magnificent menagerie of products. Fishmen, hybrids, Devil Fruit users, and one very special surprise.”
He had the audience’s undivided attention; even Doffy looked piqued. Rosinante suppressed a sigh and slouched in his seat, willing this deplorable show to end soon. One person after another was carted out. Some begged for help or mercy while others accepted their fate with a gut-wrenching resignation. Men, women, young, old, human, and nonhuman, it didn’t matter.
Everyone was for sale.
Rosinante felt sick and angry. He wanted to leave, to run back to Mariejois and pretend this wasn’t happening. But Doffy’s patience was finite even for him. He would maybe tolerate Rosinante going home empty-handed again, but not him making a scene by abruptly leaving.
His brother sighed, glancing at him. “Still nothing?”
Rosinante sharply turned his head away, not trusting himself to open his mouth without being ill.
Doffy sighed again and rested his chin on his hand, “Yeah, I’m not too impressed either. Guess we’ll have to try again somewhere else.”
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I have saved the best for last. The special surprise I mentioned earlier.” Two muscled men wheel out a cage draped with a large red cloth, effectively hiding its contents. “This creature was captured earlier this week, a truly rare find, especially in this part of the Grand Line. It’s small now, but I guarantee it will grow into something far larger and fiercer.”
“Get on with it,” Doffy muttered.
The host grabbed the cloth, “Today you could own your very own,” he ripped off the covering in a grand flourish. “Mink!”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, everyone leaning forward to get a better look at the small white creature inside. The furry being flinched at the sudden bright lights and covered its face with its paws. Rosinante could see it trembling from where he sat. The Mink wore tattered overalls and looked to have been roughed up quite a bit, judging by the dried blood and dirt marring its fur.
It’s a polar bear cub. A baby. Rosinante dreads to think what happened to its parents. And don’t these… people live in the far reaches of the New World? How did it possibly get over here? The poor thing…
“Bidding starts at 100 million berri.”
He pressed his fists against his lap. Rosinante knew how cruel, callous, and selfish Celestial Dragons can be. He despised the idea of owning a living being, let alone doing so himself.
“150!”
But the idea of someone taking this creature, breaking it, or even killing it, galled him more.
“250!”
“That one. I want that one.” Belatedly, Rosinante realizes that’s his voice and his words.
Doffy grinned, “Good choice, little brother. You always did have a soft spot for animals.” He holds up his paddle and shouts, “350 million berri!”