Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m warning you! This won’t be the last you’ll hear from me!”

Buggy could feel his lungs burning from overexertion, jaw aching from maniacally laughing as he picked up his pace. Pursuers, most of them pissed off stingy shopkeeps, continued hot on his trail as the mob chased him to the edge of the town; hell-bent on chasing him out . He flipped them off one last time as he pushed his muscles to run faster, ducking down a tight alley. As a final parting gift, a dark object sailed through the air, landing at the entrance to explode in a flashy mixture of colourful smoke and sticky confetti.

It was easy to ignore the hysterical shrieking when you’ve done things long enough and learned that survival should always be your priority. Through a labyrinth of bricked walls, Buggy barely needed to pause at each fork, knowing the route like the back of his hand after nearly a decade of crawling within the town’s shadows. The midday sun only aided him further as most people were out and about their things, whatever it was they thought themselves better than street-scrap Buggy.

Making a last left turn, he burst out of the densely-built area of townhouses and into the forest clearing at the edge of the town. The only thing cutting his final victory laugh short was a shooting sharp pain on the arch of his feet. Stupidly stumbling over some shitty fucking gravel of all things , Buggy winced as he stumbled and landed face-first into the ground, popping a loud crack! in his neck and snorting a lungful of dust and soil. Gagging, he coughed and groaned as hard as he could, paralysed for a full ten minutes to heave the last of the irritants out of his airways.

It took him another five minutes to be well enough so he could pick himself up and stumble to the nearest tree and he was glad no one was around to see such an embarrassing display. Despite the leather vest Buggy had on (and forget it was cheap leather, dammit) the bark was rough enough to feel its texture press against his back while he settled as comfortably as he could on a thick root.

Deeming it safe enough, he started pawing through the drawstring bag he used to store his loot. A small gold necklace, a flashy gold picture frame, a silver-carved candelabrum, all sorts of valuable trinkets. Valuable enough for a small town like this. Belatedly, he slapped his forehead as his stomach loudly protested his third consecutive hunger strike days. He should have gotten some bread, but it couldn’t be helped. It just looked so boring , compared to the shine glinting from precious stones and metals.

Under the duress of his own stomach’s despairing wail, he dug through the bag, wincing when he felt something leathery. A misshapen tuber was all he found out of his whole haul and this time Buggy couldn’t help but admit he really had fucked up. At this rate, he needed to put himself a second loot run just to feed himself, instead of something that would yield tangible value.

If only there was a way he could get his hands on immeasurable amounts of treasure without worrying over his own survival and bodily needs…

Ew . The absurdity of the wish had him gagging. No way he’d start hoping for some insane gimmick to happen when he just hit his thirty-somethings. Digging his heel on the ground, Buggy tugged at the plain black kerchief tying his appearance betwen passably neat and barely-rags-put-together. He had marked one of the trees further away from the town’s edge to keep intruders away, and he was happy to see it worked this time round as well.

Wedged under a particular set of gnarly roots was a deep hole Buggy had dug decades ago. Being that it was set up while he was young, it’s no surprise that the access to it was a little…difficult. If anyone could see him like now, they’d laugh; the infamous nuisance thief, Buggy the Great on all fours crawling on the forest floor like a bug.

Gravel and dust pressed against his forearms as he dragged himself forward, and thoughts of moving his trove elsewhere resurfaced again. One of these days he’ll pull his back if he’s not careful and things would be a slippery slope down. He’s here for a good time though, not for a long time and as long as he doesn’t face a painful ending, anything goes.

The hemp bag rustled noisily as he shoved the whole thing ahead into the burrow’s opening, hearing a delayed thump when it landed. Buggy figured it was a waste of energy to climb in now to count his coins when he planned to eat first. Patting his bulging pocket containing one, single, tuber, Buggy’s expression shifted to glee as he skipped deeper into the forest to pick up dry leaves and stick for his little fire. The single potato should last him another day or two before he needed to slip back into town and pick up actual food this time.

Wisely he steered clear of any mushrooms sprouting off the ground, especially those with bright caps and white spots. The crimson colour reminded him too much of memories that left him confused and sickened, torn between hope and self-loathing. So Buggy will stick with his single tuber, thank you very fucking much , and those fungi can go rot. Far away from him.

The forest around him breathed lightly without much human presence. Instead of the bustle and honking coming from crowds and the horns of docking ships, it was the rustling of shivering trees and the chirping of rodents starting to build their stores for the winter. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could spot a few yellowing leaves dying on their branches. Autumn was arriving. Buggy predicted the date of the town’s Great Feast should be announced soon, and folks would be home more often to begin preserving their yield. 

He made himself comfortable against another random tree and began to rearrange his findings, making sure the fire was decently started before stabbing a long branch into his potato and roasting it over the open flame. Slow and steady, Buggy continued to turn the damned thing over and over, worried that he’ll fuck up and end up with a shitty burnt meal instead. And starving Buggy was no way in the mood for a fucked up meal today, thank you very much .

Soon his patience started to bear fruit, as the air around him shifted from smelling like damp soil into something warm and (dared he say) buttery. Accompanied by the impatient groaning of his starving stomach, Buggy watched closely as the potato’s brown skin fluffed up, cracking in parts exposed to too much heat. His free hand twitched in interest, but experience whispered that unless he wanted to bite into a raw vegetable, he needed to wait a bit more.

So he focused on the dancing, flickering flames licking up the stick, while his mind wandered. He wondered why he stayed and subjected himself to constant exposure when he could have taken the next boat and onto the next great adventure. It wasn’t like he hated it here, it was terrific that the locals were dumb enough to continuously purchase new valuables for Buggy to ‘ acquire ’, but it wasn’t anything grand enough to make a name beyond the whole island.

A flash of white blurred past him, accompanied by soft thump thump thumps of paws trodding closer. Buggy blinked, unable to react fast enough as a curious rabbit hopped closer. Its fur looked brighter than ivory when contrasted with all the foliage around, its bright black eyes shining in Buggy’s direction as its pink nose twitched to sniff the air.

Cute. Buggy thought. Rabbits would taste nice with potatoes . 

His hand shot out without much warning but the damn rabbit was faster. It immediately jumped away as its wild instincts predicted Buggy’s hunger. Still, he didn’t feel like giving up so easily, especially since the animal hadn’t bothered to run away. Instead, it stood on its hind legs, front paws twitching. It was squaring up, answering Buggy’s own rearing desire to fight.

Yes, he’s about to fight the rabbit. He’s done much stranger stuff than this.

He knew it was a stupid decision. He knew it wasn’t worth his time and energy, but something about the fucking thing annoyed him too much. How dare this random rabbit be so excitable. It should be in his hands, afraid, helpless and bending to Buggy’s superiority instead. They prowled around the pathetically small bonfire, predatory gaze unbroken. With nature as their referee, the human-animal pair twitched as the breeze picked up and lunged at each other.

Somehow, the rabbit thought it had the advantage in size and power, shooting straight up and directly onto Buggy’s face. While strange, it made things easier. Buggy’s hands moved faster than his mind, slick instincts from decades of thievery opening up his palms. The rabbit stood no chance to change its jump course. Within seconds, Buggy managed to catch the damn thing. 

“Ha!” He cried out, shaking the rabbit by its ears. “You’re dead meat.”

Sullenly, the white rabbit narrowed its eyes.

Buggy shrugged, tightening his grip on purpose as he crouched to check on his food. Licking his lips, he picked up the stick and brought it closer to smell, stomach rumbling in excitement. The buttery smell had deepened from its longer cooking time. His gaze flicked back to the rabbit who seemed to be as interested in the potato, seeing how its nose twitched rapidly, paws twitching as it tried its best to reach the delectable food. Buggy grinned sadistically as he brought the potato closer, fully intent on teasing the poor rabbit. “Don’t worry I’ll eat you—”

He watched in horror as the rabbit’s jaw unhinged way bigger than what should be possible…

…and swallowed the steaming hot potato in one bite, cheeks bulging as it chewed rapidly.

“ What the fuck? ” He screeched at the flinching rabbit. “ You— ”

Seemingly fed up, the animal bared its teeth at Buggy with a new level of aggression. Front paws twitching, Buggy blinked and all of a sudden he found himself staring at the sky. His jaw ached with a familiar pain that he knew would surely turn into a bruise, while his head stung from the sudden collision to the ground.

The fucking rabbit kicked him.

The fucking rabbit kicked him.

Anger clouding his senses, Buggy scrambled to get up. He was down on food and then some. It was enough to justify chasing after the rabbit, who only seemed to taunt him further. Composure be damned, he didn’t even realise his own voice ripping through the forest. 

Branches snapped underfoot and other critters sprang away at their approach, wisely avoiding Buggy’s wrath as the human and rabbit zipped through the forest. He pushed himself harder even as his lungs and limbs begged him to stop, hell-bent on roasting the thing that dared to steal from him. “You’re fucking dead!”

He grinned as the rabbit ducked between the roots of a familiar tree. Instantly he dove after it, muttering abominable curses when a lump of mud dug painfully against his ribs. But he knew this was the end for the stupid animal. His burrow was a death trap, and no matter how high it could jump, it wouldn't be able to get past Buggy if he were to guard the entrance. It was perfect.

“You’re so dead,” he repeated to himself, inching forward as fast as he could. The rabbit stopped just at the entrance of the burrow, its body heaving up and down rapidly. Just a bit more . His arm slowly outstretched, ready to grab the unsuspecting animal.

He stopped as the rabbit turned around. Its whole demeanour had shifted enough to send shivers down Buggy’s spine despite everything. Black eyes watched him blankly, the lively glint in its eyes nowhere to be found. Still, it didn’t move an inch, staying as still as a statue even as the man crawled closer.

Buggy could now spot a strange stitch-like pattern under the animal’s right eye. Its previously fist-sized body seemed longer as if something stretched the animal’s torso straight upwards like pulled dough.

Momentarily, Buggy paused, wondering if he should back away and let the animal go. Things were getting weird, even an idiot could see that. And it wasn’t the kind of unusual but logical weird like Buggy running into a homeowner when they should not be home. This was the kind of ‘weird’ that made him avoid mushrooms while dearly missing flashes of red hair and ringing laughter.

He weighed his options carefully, chewing on his bottom lip. Shoulders stiffly hunched, his tight limbs slowly twitched backwards as his body started to decide for him. Buggy dared himself to look once more at the rabbit. The thing ’s appearance had twisted into something beyond its animal appearance, its torso as elongated as before. Only this time as he took another long look at its furry head, was a well-worn straw hat that he should have noticed sooner.

Buggy’s eyes widened. “You…”

The white rabbit clicked its tongue, its neck extending way beyond its socket. Like a slingshot, Buggy watched, entranced in muted horror, as it whipped forward. A burst of pain rattled from the centre of his forehead, shaking his vision. “ Wait! ” He reached out, ignoring how pathetically desperate he sounded. Only, he thrice-damned-shit refused to obey, scrambling to avoid Buggy’s grasp as it readily jumped into the darkness of the burrow.

Digging his nails into the dirt, Buggy dragged himself forward with a grunt, clawing down the entrance of the burrow and pushing his whole torso through. The dark hole stared back at him, and he could not see nor hear anything from the animal to indicate it was at the bottom. A part of him wondered if it had broken its neck from the fall, but it shouldn’t seem likely; with how the strange… animal ( was it even a rabbit and not some fucked up alchemy experiment? ) was unnaturally elastic.

One way to find out. He was going to find that rabbit. And he’d be ending what was probably definitely a hunger-induced hallucination.

Chapter Text

The burrow’s hole shouldn’t be this deep.

There was no way Buggy could’ve even dug anything deeper than six feet by himself, and there was no way he’d have forgotten the burrow’s depth when he’s had at least a decade of familiarity with the location. If he were to enter the damn cavern, it wouldn’t even take half a second for his feet to hit the ground and for his head to hit the root-carved ceiling if he tried to jump.

Still, despite what’s supposed to be logical, Buggy kept falling.

And falling.

And then he fell some more.

Deeper and deeper into the abyss, the weight of his body accelerating the longer his continuous descent. He’s given up on counting past the thirtieth second, with no end seemingly in sight. Around him was an absence of sounds, with only the whistling of his falling body cutting through the air as an accompaniment and a cruel reminder. Buggy cursed his own stupidity instead, arms flailing as panic pulsed like an icy river in his veins, each panicked curse spilling between clenched teeth. His eyes continued to strain through the darkness, trying to see through the never-ending darkness and gauge if he had hope of surviving this long fall.

A streak of grey soon flickered from the centre of the void, rapidly spreading larger. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, the echo of his own voice a piercing echo around him, though he was still unable to predict what the object might be. Desperately he tried to wrack his brains, trying to figure out a way to soften his fall. But nothing came to mind, nothing relevant could help him survive the impact of Lips contorted to a wince, Buggy braced himself for impact and hoped he wouldn’t break too many bones. Or end up as messy splatter.

Only the anticipated pain never came. 

Buggy shuddered as he passed through the dense layer of fog, tendrils of not-solid matter brushing against his body. It was cold, electrifying; like a bucket of reality being thrown at him. He gasped, the air unexpectedly light in his lungs as a strange faint echo of something the blue-haired man inferred as deep laughter rumbled. The wind whipping back at his face slowed and so did everything else, as if the world bent around him to distort time.

Downward he continued, his fall decelerating until he was floating gently like a leaf in a breeze.

His surroundings changed as well. Not entirely as the wall of rocks and earth hadn’t, but now strange items surrounded him in large numbers. Buggy stared at common furniture with an edge of wrongness on each of them; wood-carved dining chairs with legs too long, curved coffee tables which would have defeated the purpose of putting anything on them, and door slabs with no handles or locks. Between them were glittering knick-knacks, golden pendants and bejewelled heart-shaped earrings, Buggy realised in growing wonder.

Taking advantage of his slow pace, he had time to reach out and snag them off the air, ignoring scuffed portraits depicting the same grinning man garbed in pink and gold to stuff precious treasure into his pockets. If he paid closer attention, Buggy would have noticed each painting would have the upper half of their faces shredded. But he was quickly distracted by a broken mirror further down, its spiderweb cracks shimmering and shifting to distort his visage in infinitely different ways as he watched the splintering shards out of the corner of his eye.

After what seemed like an eternity, he could finally see the end, a chequered pattern of black and white exactly like a chessboard. It spanned across the whole floor, still and solid unlike the wisp of fog he had passed earlier. And Buggy’s snail-like descent meant that he no longer had to worry about falling down.

Extending his right leg straight, the heel of his shoe met the tile with an echoing clack as he righted his posture. Despite the lack of lighting, whether natural or manmade, he could see his immediate surroundings fairly easily but there didn’t seem to be an exit in sight. Brushing off an imaginary lint off his pants, Buggy decided to walk towards a random straight line. Since the room appeared to be circular, he figured that tracing the room’s edge would lead him somewhere.

Unlike the rest of the room’s upwards, the floor area had no obstacles to weave through. And aside from his footsteps and breathing, the room was quiet. The objects above him continued to float in stasis, so death by that grand piano above him didn’t seem like something he needed to worry about. Regardless, Buggy wanted out, having no desire to stay in this creepy room longer than necessary. Instead, he focused on his starving stomach and the rabbit he needed to find.

His instinct whispered the place was where things were left forgotten, and Buggy whole-heartedly agreed as he looked back at the disturbed dust surrounding his own footprints. Something else tickled at the back of his mind, another memory of glowing blue lights and the chimes of boisterous laughter.

It shouldn’t be like this, it’s too quiet…too dead.

But Buggy couldn’t exactly point out why when he’s never been here before. Slow steps quickening into a jog, the blue-haired man followed the curve of the room’s edge with a newfound determination to get the fuck out. He avoided staring at the floor as much as he could, the pattern catching him dizzy if he stared too long. Instead, he pressed his right palm against the wall and used that as a guide.

He must have been halfway over the room when he saw the table and chair. Plain and unassuming, it looked like something Buggy would find in any rundown pub. But he knew better than to underestimate the weirdness of his place, despite his recent arrival. Warily, he approached, in case the furniture would suddenly burst into flames. It stood still and against the ground though, unlike the other objects above him. But nothing happened as he found a cake and vial instead, respectively labelled with a chicken scratch that read ‘Eat Me’ and ‘Drink Me’.

In hindsight, he should have been more careful with strange food and drinks lying around, but a starving Buggy wasn’t exactly the smartest Buggy in the room. Picking up the lemon bar from its dainty porcelain plate, Buggy readily took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully as the refreshingly tart flavour spread on his taste buds. Buggy barely swallowed his last bite before there was a whoosh and thump and then he was on the ground, hissing as he nursed the bump on the back of his head. Maybe it was the oncoming concussion speaking, but he felt the ache of his joints stretch and snap, the echoes of his own pained yowling ringing too loud in his ear and his surroundings squeezing him in place.

Except it wasn’t the concussion, he learned when he was still enough to open his eyes through the tears.

“What the fuck…” His voice came out as a soft whisper, too afraid to use a louder volume. As if he hadn’t experienced enough weird shit today, his new size took up at least half the room from where he crouched. The top of his head brushed against the edge of what felt like a furniture’s edge, threatening another bump if Buggy carelessly moved around. 

Though the new height though, he had a different vantage point. Buggy greedily spotted another diamond ring and a heavy-looking necklace decorated in rubies and sapphires. Atop a lacquer dresser, he pinched up a key with a shimmering red glow between his thumb and forefinger. The brass was rough to touch, its small form hinted it might be for some jewellery case, but it looked far too intricate to be one.

Maybe...? Buggy squinted at the table by his knee, which miraculously hadn’t toppled over. A red crystal vial blinks up at him innocently, its ‘Drink Me’ label scrawled in cursive ink. Seemingly challenged, Buggy picked it up, popping up the cap to throw it somewhere. He finished the whole thing in one gulp, sweet syrup on his tongue as he heard a shatter, and then heard another whoosh as the world around him rapidly grew larger. 

“Come on, come on, come on!” He kept his eyes open, the grin on his face growing wider as the sizes morphed from large to just right. The tight feeling under his skin disappeared as he readily embraced his normal size.

Only, things didn’t stop there. With growing panic, Buggy gasped helplessly as his body shrunk. The world continued to grow around him like he was being stuffed into a jar and soon he couldn’t even see the top of the table and chair set beside him. The vial in his hand grew larger and heavier until it slipped out of his grasp, fragile glass shattering upon impact on the chequered floor. Buggy barely had time to scramble away, avoiding dangerous shards flying in every direction as he realised how lethal they could be now due to his size.

“Dammit!” Buggy screamed, burying his face in his hands. There was nothing else he could eat to fix his size. And he couldn’t even grab any of those floating treasures when he was this short!

“Hey!”

The blue-haired man turned to the source of the voice, ponytail whipping his neck from the snappy gesture. Rage boiled in his chest as his eyes laid upon the furry scourge that started his chain of problems. “You!”

“You’re that guy that grabbed me.” White rabbit said, his expression flat and serious. “That hurt.”

“You—” Buggy felt his jaw drop. “You fucking ate my food!”

“That still hurts.” Came the reply, stated as if it was the most clear-cut crime in the world. “You tried to eat me too.”

“That’s because I thought you’re a…y’know—a normal rabbit?” He tried again weakly, only now realising that he and the long-eared rodent were the same height.

It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. The rabbit only frowned as he leaned back on its back legs and crossed its forepaws across his chest. It's dark eyes were shadowed eerily under the straw hat’s brim. “You should try getting eaten too.”

“What?!”

Buggy had no time to process what the damn thing meant, and he didn’t need to. The shitty thing leapt at him in no time, a blur of white as its jaw unhinged five times its length to try to get a nibble of the human. Only…Buggy’s current size meant that the rabbit could eat him in one gulp. Scrambling away in no way he could ever justify as ‘dignified’, Buggy barely even cared to contain the shrill scream ripping out of his throat. “Get away from me!”

“Shishishi,” that fucking rat dared to laugh. “C’mon, just a nibble so it’s fair!”

“How the fuck is it fair?!” The floor on his right exploded, sending Buggy careening the other way as he tried to not fall on his ass. Somehow, the force of the rabbit’s landing hit hard enough to shatter the marble flooring. Yeah, one hit from the shitty rabbit was definitely going to kill him.

The damn thing attacked like a rock flying from a pulled slingshot. He watched every time the shitstain’s torso elongated, winding up for another attack before parts of his body shot forward. However, the observation was nearly useless given how fast the animal moved, or rather, how slow Buggy was. Three new cracks appeared, everything Buggy so much as blinked, kicking up dust in every direction. No matter which direction he jumped, he would be a breath away from broken bones.

It was entertainment for the rabbit, no doubt, its shitty grin never faltered as it chased Buggy. That stupid shishishi laugh echoed around the room dogging after Buggy’s own panicked curses and shouts. What the fuck did he even do? Tug on some rabbit’s ears? Which was supposed to be fair given how rabbits were prey animals?

A heavy slam right behind his heel was Buggy’s undoing. The next thing he saw was the divide between a black and white square as he planted face-first across the floor, and then slid across it with a vicious squeak. Friction burned his nose redder, and he could feel the inflamed thing pulse from pain.

“That’s it. I’m gonna fucking skin you alive!” He leapt back up to his feet. Death be damned, Buggy was determined to rip the ears off the rubbery rabbit’s head. “And I’ll make sure to use salt when I roast you.”

His threat seemed to spur the animal on instead, whose unsettlingly human grin only widened. Laughing freely, the rabbit tipped the straw hat lower to shadow his eyes, the cocky action justified by how strong the animal’s body deceptively was. Buggy ignored the tremble in his knees and forced himself to stand up as straight as he could even if he lost any intimidation points against the animal with his current height.

An unexpected clock chime interrupted them both, bellowing throughout the chamber with each ringing contralto hum louder yet lighter than its previous one. Both paused, one with confusion, the other in surprise. Yet the pair remained unmoved in a standstill. Buggy kept his gaze upwards despite the threat across him, fixed on a random dresser to see if the vibrations would cause the objects to loosen from their position and crash down.

As the bell toll sang in a soprano, the final note shivered through the stagnant air and slowly faded to nothingness. Yet the tension stayed. Buggy’s eyes slowly flicked back to his opponent, nearly flinching out of his skin when he saw the smiling expression had been replaced with a frown.

“Man, this isn’t fun.” The rabbit replied, “You’re making me miss snack time. I’m out of here.”

Before Buggy could comprehend what had been said, the fucker punched a hole through the damn wall and hopped out and away from the scene. Picking his jaw up from the floor for the umpteenth time today, Buggy stumbled after the rabbit, still dumbfounded at the furry animal’s destructive power.

Only, his momentarily burning courage faltered seeing the blur of white disappearing into the horizon between a thicket of silver trees. 

His shoe kicked something, and a cracked door ripped from its hinges from the rabbit-sized force that he hadn’t noticed before. Judging from where he stood, it seemed just the right height for his current size to go through. Meaning that Buggy was actually meant to eat and drink in that particular order before going through the door. Fucking weird. 

There was a name on the tip of his tongue, a word that he couldn’t exactly remember how it sounded. A word that the blue-haired man hadn’t uttered for years. Hell, even trying to force himself to say it out loud made his head hurt. Whatever it was though, it was something related to the familiarity Buggy felt in the air.

From the electrifying atmosphere to the weight of each step he took, the shift from what he was used to didn’t seem difficult.

Not knowing what else to do, he followed the only path ahead, sullenly kicking each gravel that dared to appear on his path. The air smelled sweeter the deeper he entered the glowing forest, reminiscent of vanilla in the baked goods that Buggy used to swipe off from the town’s baker. Silver trees shivered and bent at his approach, thick braided trunks twisting in a posture the blue-haired man considered as peering in curiosity. But any mirrored sentiments seemed unacceptable, as each time he tried to move closer or touch any part of its outstretched limbs only resulted in branches pulling away from his reach. Though unlike the forest he was familiar with, this one was as quiet as the storeroom filled with forgotten objects.

Even that rabbit seemed silent until the animal decided not to be. As if there were missing puzzle pieces that nobody ever bothered to fix. Therefore, even if his only companions were cowardly trees, lazy humming fireflies, and spotted toadstools which he stayed clear of, nothing that he encountered here so far was exactly as they seemed.

Faintly he could hear the rumble of drums as he approached a fork in the road, rhythmic and deliberate like the choir chimes he heard before. Buggy turned to follow the sound without hesitation, glaring at the trees around him as they bent their trunks backwards to avoid his touch.

Pale grass snapping under his steps, Buggy frowned as he stepped onto a bare clearing. The smoke wafting around instantly put him on edge. He squinted to make out the shapes hidden below the dull greyish wisps.

It was only when he recognised the scent of tobacco that he loosened the tenseness in his shoulders. “Hello?”

Chapter Text

“Huh. Hello.”

His forehead twitched. “Yeah, I said that already, who the fuck are you?”

There was a guttural rumble, and then a sigh. The smoke around him thickened enough to make Buggy’s eyes water and throat itch. Coughing the taste away, he stormed forward as his hands frantically waved the thickest of it away from his face. Whoever this was, they better drop dead from their addiction before his fists met their rude face. 

He regretted his actions as he got close enough to see the other’s form. Sitting amongst a high chair surrounded by flowers and skull-shaped blooms growing from the same stem, was a massive, wizened reptile chewing a lit cigar between its snout. Buggy swallowed the shrill scream on its way up his throat and took a few steps back as he laughed to try and diffuse the situation.

“I-I… What I was gonna say was, ‘How do you do?’” His pitch clawed a few octaves higher. “Fine weather right? Heh… ”

The crocodile huffed another cloud of smoke, unimpressed.  “Name?”

“Why the hell do you want to know?! …Uhm– sir .”

“Rude brat. I’m the one who wants to know.”

“Did you just…” Buggy’s flaring insult dimmed as he flinched under the beast’s stare. “...say something about my nose…”

“Say that louder.”

“Nope! It’s nothing!” He didn’t know if the pinched smile he snapped on was convincing enough he meant no harm, he could only hope it did. “It’s Buggy. My name’s Buggy uh…yeah…”

Beady yellow eyes flicked across his form, observing and appraising from the tips of Buggy’s blue hair and rumpled black neckerchief, til the ends of his brown loafers. The crocodile let out an unimpressed grunt, the cigar’s ember glowed a bright red before Buggy found himself coughing his lungs out again. His nape prickled at the loud whistling of wind picking up around him, ready for the tightening of his skin as the smoke faded quickly this time.

“Buggy, was it?” Gone was the large, dangerous crocodile, replaced by a man of equal size. A scarred face peered down at him, his expression as disinterested as he pinched his half-smoked cigar between human fingers. If one looked closer, the previously crowded peach-tinted blooms draping his chair had mostly been replaced by skull shapes instead. “How did you end up here?”

“Huh, funny thing. I was trying to eat my potato and then—”

“I really don’t care.”

Then why the fuck did you ask you shitty overgrown lizard? “Okay…Well, I’m kinda lost though. So if you want me to leave, do you mind pointing me where I should go?”

“Sure, you can go back the other way and take the road on the left. You’ll find people who’d like to see you.” Another puff, another cloud of smoke. “Glad, even.”

“How’d you know something like that?”

“I know a lot of things.” Crocodile-man rolled his eyes, blowing tobacco into Buggy’s teary eyes. “That’s my whole business here.”

“I…okay?” His gaze flicked around nervously, trying to decipher the other man’s intentions. “Anything else I should watch out for?”

“Depends. How are your croquet skills?”

He couldn’t remember the last time he played the game. No one in town were keen players. Buggy only remembered playing the game once in decades. Though when and who he played with, he couldn’t remember. So…“it’s shit.”

Either the man hadn’t heard him or he just didn’t care for Buggy’s answer. He fidgeted as he watched the tall man take in another drag of his cigar, his hook for a hand idly fiddling with a flower bloom.

“Well? Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

“How do I know you’re not leading me to a death trap?”

That seemed to snap the Crocodile-man up, letting out a loud guffaw as his expressionless face contorted into a baffled smirk. Seeing Buggy’s confusion seemed to spur him on and he continued to laugh and laugh, ending up doubled over with his elbows leaning over his knees. “You? Into a death trap? This world would never allow that. She loves you too much to let that happen.”

Petulantly, the blue-haired man crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t really believe that.”

“Doesn’t matter whatever you believe.” Crocodile’s expression slipped into a flat one as his composure pieced back together. “Things just happen, no matter how much of a bullshit it seems to you or anyone else.”

“Okay……?”

“Yeah, ‘Okay’. Now hurry along and fucking leave me alone.”

“Rude.” Buggy spat out, stomping his heel onto neatly trimmed grass to drive his point home. The ‘purposely’ dramatic action only drew a raised eyebrow from the large man and nothing else. Stomping towards the direction had pointed out earlier, the blue-haired man hissed out insults under his breath, pressing his lips shut together when Crocodile-man’s flat gaze bore into him.

With one last glance, he stared at Crocodile-man’s scarred face before marching away with furrowed brows. His path, as he quickly found though, was blocked by a spotted blue butterfly inches away from his face. Dark eyes frowned as he watched the insect’s cerulean shift between pastel to near-midnight tones with every flip of its wings, black and white spots seemingly staying still despite constant movements.

This time he was better adapted to the sudden surprise thrown his way, Buggy said nothing as he sidestepped his newest blockade to enter the mouth of the clearing. To his surprise, the insect followed, keeping up every time the man tried to move away from it. His ears twitched at each flap of gossamer wings growing louder, the sound multiplying as cacophonous echoes. The clamour was enough to tempt Buggy to turn around, yelping when he came face to face with a cluster of similar butterflies swarming towards his direction.

Swallowing down the scream halfway up his throat, Buggy gasped as the cloud of shimmering brown-blue butterflies swooped in his direction. Within seconds, he was now the centre of the fluttering storm, desperately flailing his arms in front of his face to try and swat them away. Their actions were relentless though, Buggy’s own were for naught. He shivered as multiple insects landed across his body, something that the blue-haired man could only describe as being kissed by a thousand butterflies.

Cold touches caressed his exposed skin. He flinched at the foreign sensation, squinting his eyes as he batted the meddling insects away to try and make out the path in front of him. All he could see through the chiffon-like curtain of wings were numerous floating black and white spots, seemingly floating in the middle of nothing.

Like empty eyes peering through his soul.

Whimpering softly, Buggy avoided their gaze, violating despite its meaningless existence. Crocodile-man’s grating cackle faded in and out amidst the chaos and he had half a mind to question the other man’s words. He felt unmasked, raw, like he was meant to be dissected and scrutinised under infinite unseeing eyes. What part of this meant the world loved him?!

As quickly as it started, it ended. Buggy gasped at what he felt crawling across his bare skin was now the lack of insect legs and feelers and gossamer-like wing beats. His head snapped towards where the shape-shifting reptile had been, sucking in a sharp breath when he found himself alone. Not even a single flower bud or skull-shaped husk was left. Even the smell of lingering tobacco was missing as if the strange cigar-smoking shape-shifting reptile had never existed in the first place.

Silver trees around him trembled again at his approach. Crackling branches as wooden limbs twisted inwards with each lonely step as Crocodile-man’s words echoed in his ear. The blue-haired man stepped back onto the beaten path with trepidation as his gaze flicked around the corners of his vision, wary a leftover butterfly would attack him.

The world loves you , his mind repeated in a disjointed voice. Yeah, and he’s royalty, surely there are much more believable lies.

He kept his ear strained to hear any other strange noises as he tried to guess what other talking animal would pop up next. And because that crocodile man had been able to turn into a human, could that stretchy rabbit do the same? Buggy hoped not.

There was a time Buggy barely remembered when he was younger, the most his mind could conjure up were the briefest flashes. Anytime he tried to remember sharper details, the thought would pull away just out of his reach. In the end, Buggy wondered to himself just why he was trying so hard and stopped bothering. Glittering jewels and gold coins were much more reliable anyway.

Yet, his body remembers what his mind could not. Buggy could not even approach a growing fungus in the forest without his own legs locking up, without icy sweat trickling down his nape. He could barely stand seeing the colour red longer than a few moments before rage boiled in his chest. He could not stand to see that disgustingly familiar straw hat on that accursed white rabbit (even if part of him was convinced this whole experience was an incredibly detailed drug-induced delirium).

The trees around him continued to twist away, broad trunks creaking as they shivered under his withering glare. Cautiously, Buggy glanced behind him, curious if the cowardly things untwisted themselves when he wasn’t looking…

…Only to suck in a sharp breath when he came face-to-face with the detailed pattern of swirling wood grains. Instinctively he jumped backwards, disbelief painting his face. The trail he walked on had closed, blocked by the trees that he had thought to be fearful of him. He could not see a walkable path anymore if he wanted to turn around, not unless he planned to climb around the thicket that would most likely shift at his approach.

“Lost…?” A nasally deep voice asked, his question trailing off into an amused cackle.

Buggy whipped around, tense arms raised for a fight. Yet the path in front of him remained empty and the world once again, stilled. He frowned, clicking his tongue as he refused to loosen his posture. At least unless his hidden enemy cared to show themselves. 

The grating laugh started again, low in pitch until it grew louder and much more hysterical than beguiled. “Up here, you stupid fool. Or are your eyes merely for decoration where it rests in your sockets?”

His gaze snapped up higher across the higher branches, still narrowed as he tried to parse anything between the monochromatic branches. There was movement, floating tinted spectacles and thin lips split into an impossibly wide grin. A flash of bright pink gradually faded into view. Buggy found himself face-to-face with an eerie cat-shaped monster this time.

This time he refused to say anything, afraid of making the first move because that thing looked so fucking terrifying from where it leered above him. Schooling his face into the flattest expression he could muster, Buggy continued to force his own fear down his stomach.

“Hello, you .” the thing purred.

Where the white rabbit had at least looked harmless at first sight, this one rang loud alarm bells in the blue-haired man’s mind. This cat was so impossibly strange it took Buggy everything in him to not just blanch and start crawling under the tree roots behind him. Hell, he’d take that dumb rabbit over this grinning feline.

“You up for a game of croquet?”

Oh. Oh. Was this what that crocodile man meant? Then was Buggy supposed to say yes? Frantically blinking, the cat bobbed his head in intrigue. It took a lame while before he was able to stumble out a pathetic, “...Uh.”

That didn’t seem to deter the animal, who only sniggered, mockingly as if he had anticipated the blue-haired man’s nervousness. “Come on and follow me, you do know the game’s meant to be played in an open field. Do you see one around you?” Obviously , was left unsaid. 

Buggy held his tongue and quickly followed the floating cat with trepid steps. His field of vision narrowed onto the pink feline’s languid form weaving between still trees that still flinch at the blue-haired man’s vicinity. The path only grew wider the longer they walked, and soon bare shoe-worn ground faded, replaced with paved bricks. When they finally passed the last tree, an intricate silver-leafed gate greeted Buggy, sprawling horizontally as far as the eye could see.

“Come on in,” the grinning cat drawls as he passes through the bars of the metal fence. Buggy wasn’t sure if the cat passed through the fencing between his illusively puffy fur or if he had gone through it as if an object could pass through an impermanent mist. Instead, his human hands reached out to push at the heavy and very much solid gate that swung open with a lazy hum of well-oiled hinges.

He continued to follow the pink fluff through the perfectly manicured lawn, noting the paleness on the grass and ground unlike the silver of the forest before he noticed the enormity of the manor building. What didn’t escape him, however, was the lack of any other colour on the building.

“Welcome,” the cat murmured with vindication and reverence at the sights before them. “To the estate of Noblest Duchess Corazon of the House of White.”

The Duchess greeted them at the end of the path, a grandly carved marble fountain running behind him. Despite alabaster skin, the rest of the Duchess’ outfit was a stark contrast to his surroundings. Buggy eyes raked over the pale pink shirt with lopsided hearts printed all over the fabric, white slim-fit trousers, and then at the pitch black feather coat nearly as large as the man itself. Which was saying something considering how the Duchess towered over Buggy.

“You should bow down when you meet Nobility,” the cat chimed in the middle of the blue-haired man’s reverie. “Or do you lack the brains to know how to treat your betters, clown?”

“Doffy,” Duchess Corazon sighed. Long limbs lifted as he opened himself for a hug, which the grinning cat wasted no time burying himself into. “Where did you go?”

“Getting us a new player. It’s boring to watch you play croquet alone.”

“That’s because you won’t consider me a player, Doflamingo.” A voice hisses out, stepping behind the Duchess’ feather coat. A slim-statured man wearing a skipper cap huffed with crossed arms, challenging Buggy’s bewildered expression with one of annoyance. “Which is your own problem.”

“Brats shouldn’t be considered as players at all, Law. You’re awful at the game.”

“Doffy!” Duchess Corazon chided, aghast. “Don’t say that about Law… He’s trying his best.”

“He’s awful , Rosi. No matter how much he practises.”

“Shut up, Doflamingo. Big words from a backseat player.”

“At least Rosi wouldn’t always win all the time, brat. Watching you lose was funny at first but at least you wouldn’t be crying for two weeks straight if we teamed up when I could play back then.”

“T-that was one time! I was a kid!”

“Still are. Baby.”

“Doffy!”

Their lighthearted insults and teases slid off each other’s skin, evidence of a tight-knit relationship. And not to mention the large sword that Law-guy-baby-knight carried. 

…Should he be glad these dangerous creatures were ignoring him? Buggy subtly slid his glance away from the bickering trio and looked for an exit.  As far as the eye could see, the blue-haired man found himself surrounded by open gardens. The neatly trimmed hedge bushes barely reached his waist, while the statues and fountains weren’t wide enough to hide behind. Given the heights of the men across him, and how that creepy cat could float, he’d be found in no time if he tried his luck.

So Buggy stayed put, awkwardly tugging at the hem of his shirt as he held in a long-suffering sigh as he watched on as an outsider. At least the meeker he appeared to these…‘royals’, the better chance he’ll have of surviving this. Or defer any executions based on petty actions perceived as disrespectful.                                                                                               

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“Me?” The blue-haired man blinked at the sudden address from the lanky dark-haired man, whose frustration was now switched in his direction. Warily, Buggy noted the way the tattooed man fingered at the sheath of his long katana. Flicking back to the other two beings, he was at least relieved that they looked dismissive, and refused to even waste their sights on Buggy’s dishevelled form. “Uh…my name’s–”

“Regardless, Doffy.” the blond Duchess interrupted. “You wasted your time finding a new player. The game isn’t due for another few hours. Or days. Or weeks. I’ve yet to finish some responsibilities that have been procrastinated enough.”

“Excuse me for trying to entertain you with a challenging game instead of playing by yourself, Rosi. Aren’t you bored playing against Baby, here?”

“I am literally right here you over-puffed pet .”

“Please, Doffy, Law-child.” Breathing out a long-suffering sigh, Duchess Corazon’s sharp eyes turned to observe Buggy. His focus shifted, yet his tired posture clued in that he’d rather be doing anything else than acknowledge his unexpected guest’s appearance. “I’m busy enough as it is, and I’ve wasted a good hour or two looking for you. Don’t you know how worried I was?”

“Shush, Rosi. You don’t control me.”

“Doffy, you’re mine .”

The cat fell into silence, his grin faltering as it seemed to contemplate those words. Buggy scrunched his face into a wince, watching the cat bury himself deeper into the Duchess’ neck. Law’s expression nearly mirrored him as loud purring reverberated as the pink cloud huffed and puffed. However, he emoted more livid than Buggy’s confusion. Especially as Duchess Corazon responded to such affection in kind, cradling the cat closer as long fingers gently weaved through the soft fur over and over.

“R-Right,” the blue-haired man stammered. “I’m gonna assume you won’t need me here. So I’ll just– uh…get going, yeah.”

“Law, why don’t you escort the guest out?”

“ Fine .” The dark-haired man hissed, grinding his boot down onto the grass. His supposed host seemed happy to be rid of him. Yeah, the feeling’s mutual, believe it or not. Buggy hurried to trail behind the other man’s quick strides as he pretended not to hear the mumbled curses spilling between Law’s teeth. Just like how he’s pretending not to notice that he was led away from the main gate he came from instead of towards.

Taking the opportunity with his most noble host out of sight, Buggy abandoned all kinds of subtlety. His eyes roamed around the place, wondering how much the Ducchess’ assets were worth. Silver-gilded shrubbery, marble statues carved from the finest calacatta, and pieces of furniture assembled from the strongest of ivory-dyed oaks, Buggy greedily drank in each sight and how esoteric everything seemed from the lack of colour. It was enough to make his mind swim through imaginary riches. His hand itched to reach out for more, to run his hands through the texture, but Law’s dark expression made the blue-haired man wary of tattooed hands curling around the taller man’s trusty sword.

“Does it get tiring taking care of the whole place yourself?” He asked nonchalantly.

“And whatever do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not seeing anyone else here. Do you polish the silverware and cut the grass yourself?” It was much easier to hide from one person than a hundred, even if he was at risk of getting discovered by an omniscient cat.

Law’s eyes hardened, “The other workers are on break.”

That was the only thing Buggy managed to get, seeing how pissed off the other guy was. Really, it wasn’t as if he meant anything bad by it, or that he thought Law was a servant—

“I am not Duchess Corazon’s ‘servant’.”

Shit. Shit. Did he say that out loud? “I–uh, wasn’t trying to say anything bad about servants . Much less, you…” His pitch rose thinly as he stammered excuses. “I mean, I was just thinking if it ever gets hard for you to clean everything by yourself.”

“Then you fucking remember, whoever you are. That I am his ‘ Knight’.”

“Yeah, I do. I am. I will.”  His gaze no longer roamed around for treasures, but an exit, seeing how ticked off the other man looked. “By the way…’you sure this is the way out here?”

Law’s silence fed on the flames of his panic. Fuck, was he being led to his death actually? Was this all a trap? Carefully, he thought about his chances, if he’d be able to break into a run and make it outside the entrance gates. But would reaching that threshold automatically mean he’d actually escape from their grasp? Buggy warily eyed the long katana resting on Law’s tense shoulder and knew that blade would cut him into pieces the second his heel turned. No matter how fast he was, the other man was a beast compared to him. The blue-haired man opted to shut himself up and prayed as their footsteps clicked and clacked across the estate with not even a rustle to mingle.

His worries were only quelled as they approached another gate, this one much simpler in design but no less impressive with the metallic sheen of what could only be silver. Though as much as he’d liked to be impressed (even the richest mansion in that town wasn’t this opulent) he’d rather keep his eyes on Law and prepare a buffer of reaction time in case he might meet his untimely demise here.

Audibly gulping when the dark-haired man stopped, Buggy’s gaze never strayed far from the gripped sword. “Uh…are you going to kill me then?”

“...That’s not what the Duchess ordered.”

“Right…” He refused to feel this foolish. “So you’re really saying this uh–path into some freaky dark forest isn’t some ploy to kill me.”

Law stared at him with narrowed eyes, his expression painting enough confusion as if he had re-discovered how foolish Buggy was for saying such a thing. “This is the only way out.”

“What’s wrong with the other gate?”

If Law thought that the blue-haired man was stupid, then this turn of his new expression clearly stated that Buggy was—for lack of a better word—a fucking idiot. “Then you’ll be back wherever you started from.” 

“Oh.”

“Do you want to go back there? We could turn around.” His tone almost sounded like pity.

“Nope. It’s okay, here’s fine!” Buggy laughed nervously, “Into the woods we go am I right?”

“...I won’t be accompanying you.”

“Right, okay–” Fuck, can he stop making a fool of himself? Pushing himself past the other man, Buggy chose to focus on the yellowed sandy path that clearly had colour past a certain estate’s boundary instead of the dense shadowy woods before him. “I knew that.”

“Keep to the path. It should take you wherever you need to go.”

“How do you know where I’m supposed to go?”

“Because only one path exists.”

“What an overdramatic loser,” Buggy muttered as Law left without another word. The silver gates swung shut behind the dark-haired man, leaving him in the silence and ominous shade. Law’s parting words had been vague like the rest of the creatures he had met so far. Everything and everyone seemed to know better than him. The notion only made him feel smaller, a reminder that no matter how much Buggy tried to be, he was actually nothing and no one. 

Looking around the stretch of woods surrounding him, Buggy noted the abundance of colour compared to the one he had seen so far. Calling a normal forest with shades of green, brown, and black special might sound crazy, but he found himself missing the normalcy. And the trees here didn’t seem to fear him, heavy willow and acorn tree barks standing still under the touch of his palm. 

Sighing, Buggy followed the sandy path below him as he wondered about the next destination he’d stumble onto. One thing he was willing to admit was that he was definitely far away from Loguetown.

He tried to not think too hard about that fact, lest his mind wander and be sickened with how strange everything was. And in that vein, Buggy chose to watch his fraying sanity and compartmentalise his experiences so far. Instead, he focused on the growing abundance of toadstool clusters that alternated between glowing blue and pink, noting how the ones in blue seemed sparser the deeper he followed the path.

Somewhere deep inside his mind, Bugy felt something nagging. Whether it was alarm bells or excited whispers of finallyfinallyfinalliy,  he dared not parse through. All he knew was these fungi with caps large enough for him to sit on were the reasons he avoided anything mushroom-shaped with a wide berth, edible or not.

The purple glow of the mushrooms slowly blurred as the reds gradually took his environment. Buggy found himself stopping more often to check that he wasn’t shrinking in size either and that it was the forest and toadstools that grew larger to dwarf him. Kicking the tip of his shoes on loose gravel, he held on to Law’s statement that only one path existed to convince himself that no, he wasn’t lost. And not like he could even guess how much time had passed. Unless he had remembered things wrongly, the four o’clock shadows around him hadn’t changed since his arrival.

Eventually, it was another foreign scent that tickled his senses. Though this didn’t smell like dangerous tobacco, but instead of warm pies fresh out of the oven. His stomach rumbled, his lip twitched. Swallowing the stream of drool threatening to leak down his chin, Buggy picked up his pace northward and inhaled deeply.

A trail of pale grey curled lively into a fist, pointer finger jutting out to beckon the blue-haired man to follow. Talking rabbits, smoking crocodiles, and affection-starved cats. He wondered what he’d meet next.

Chapter Text

Contrary to his guesses, it wasn’t an animal that greeted him first but the sound of tinkling bells. As he stumbled out of the clearing, the scent of meat and fried food wafted over his senses. Buggy’s eyes drew upon a wooden signpost erected near the cul de sac that read ‘Hatter’s Lodge’ before he continued to survey the sight before him. Where Duchess Corazon’s estate sprawled to prove his reign over territory, this one sat cramped upon a patch of dedicated land. Houses upon houses stacked themselves within and atop each other hinting at limited expansion, resulting in a precarious architecture that shouldn’t have been able to unflinchingly stand on its own.

He could hear a din from where he stood, of raised voices arguing. Giving himself five whole seconds as he heard metal clashing against each other, Buggy forced himself to continue forward. Whatever the sound meant, he hoped it wouldn’t be directed towards him.

“You’re an idiot, dumbass moss-monster. Don’t you dare blame this shit on me anymore!”

“This is exactly your damn fault, blondie!”

“You…!”

“Yeah, me!”

Steel-tipped shoes met against crossed blades, and two stubborn foreheads slammed against each other as a pair of furious men proved themselves desperate to be heard by the other. He stared at a suited blond wearing a white chef’s hat balancing an enormous plate of food on one hand, knee drawn up readily to kick the sloppy-garbed green-haired man with lop ears trying to paw him.

“I said off, Marimo! Off and away with you!” Where the Duchess had been kind in tone and politely requested things from his subjects, this overdressed man made himself clear that he was giving out orders as if speaking to a mutt . 

Only…the rude gesture served as fuel for the other man’s excitement, who readily chased after the blond’s heels. “Come on Curls, you know I’m losing my mind here.”

“No way! We’ll have guests arriving soon!”

“Guests that won’t be fucking leaving for hours! Just let me do you now .”

Huh. Buggy faltered, his eyes blinking rapidly as he processed the absurdity of those implied words. Seeing how the blond’s face flushed crimson before shouting out a battle roar only cemented things further as the pair before him clashed akin to the previous fight Buggy was welcomed to. What was impressive though, was how the platter of food stayed in place despite the battle it got involved in, not even a drop of gravy spilling out of any saucières. That and how the blond’s chef’s hat that fitted cohesively with the rest of the blond’s outfit was now taller than he swore it had been just moments ago.

“Dammit Mossy, you can’t… look –someone’s here already.”

Very aware of the attention now turned towards him, Buggy held his head high and expression flat. If the green-haired man sent him a burning glare hot enough to light the embers of hell, he refused to perceive it. “Duchess Corazon sent me this way.”

Only one path exists, going by Law’s words. And by that logic, technically, Buggy didn’t lie. 

“Did he now?” The green-haired man snapped. “So what do you want?”

“There’s only one reason people come here, stupid. Stop antagonising him.” Blondie’s free hand moved as quickly as lightning, smacking the back of his companion’s head loud enough to garner a bit of sympathy from their singular audience. He turned to Buggy with a much more welcoming expression. “Sorry for this idiot. Are you hungry? Well, you’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Officially invited, Buggy followed after the pair. The smell of a literal feast overpowered his senses, melting coherent thoughts as his underfed stomach growled ravenously. Discreetly, he wiped away the string of drool slipping down the corner of his lips, just in time for the blond chef (whose hat was now as tall as three times his height, so Buggy didn’t hallucinate that apparently) to duck and arrange the platter of food on a long table.

“Tea Time.”

He’d seen holiday banquets and harvest celebrations carried out in the town, but the spread before him was on another level. From where he stood, Buggy could point out five different types of bread, twenty types of grilled meat and seafood drenched in a rainbow array of sauces, pies in funny shapes and sizes about to burst from the generosity of filling stuffed under its pastry layers.

There were vegetables piled on high from baked to mashed, while soups and stews from clear to cream nearly overflowed from their delicate porcelain tureens. Steam puffed from delicate teapots with containers of cream and sugar, surrounded by mismatched cups all within arm’s reach. There seemed to be everything for anyone, no matter what your food preferences seemed to be.

The blue-haired man stared at the blond adding even more food to the table, then back at the house where no one else seemed to exist. “Did you cook all this by yourself?”

“Yep. Feel free to sit down wherever.”

Buggy chose a seat by the blond’s left, still ignoring the scathing glare across from his host’s companion as the lop-eared man arranged to lean a belt of three swords against the table before sitting down himself. Despite his hunger, he forced himself to wait until his host plated something for themselves before reaching out to grab the nearest pretzel and some white sausages. Partly because, of manners, but also because it couldn’t help to be careful of any poison in this case. He focused on playing with the tablecloth’s hem, rubbing his left thumb over the patchwork of different coloured granny squares depicting hearts, spades, and diamonds while his right continued to shovel food into his mouth. Nothing he’d scavenged from the dumpster of that fancy restaurant in town could even compare to this.

The pair before him thankfully didn’t bother much with Buggy’s presence, too enamoured in spitting insults at each other between bites. Blondie’s hats swivelled wildly with each tilt and turn of his chin like a young tree caught in a storm but secured enough that the ever-growing tower of hats slipping off didn’t seem like a concern. It was a stretch to say that these two were the most welcoming hosts, but truly out of everything he faced so far, Buggy appreciated the food and lack of weird conversations. Even if he had to be subjected to the disgusting sexual tension between them.

“So…” He coughed to gain their attention, ignoring how the pair dangerously turned their livid expressions his way. “If this whole thing is for tea time, how big could dinner time be?”

Lop-ear twitched, “It’s always tea time here.”

“Why?”

“Same reason it’s also always Sanji’s UnBirthday.”

“Okay…” Buggy refrained from asking further, even if the answer the green-haired man gave definitely made total sense . “So, you’re Sanji then?”

Blondie nodded. “And he’s Zoro.”

He struck while the iron was hot. “Zoro….Does your brother happen to be a white rabbit wearing a straw hat?”

“No.” Came Zoro’s flat reply, his incredulous expression complementing Sanji’s bell-like laughter. “I’m a fucking hare, you red-nose twat.”

“The hell did you just –” Buggy sputtered, hot blood rushing into his head. He was up on his feet before he realised what he was doing, slamming the table hard enough to displace his dishware. “You want a fucking go?”

“Bring it on, clown!” Lop-ears growled in return, hand hovering over his swords.

The action only made Buggy regret his outburst, clearly understanding the outmatch in strength. He could only bluff his way out of it, he knew as he subtly inched his hand under his empty plate. He’d run back to the forest and slip back into the White Duchy’s territory, confident enough he’d be able to stay underfoot long enough for the pair to drop their guards so he could sneak past them.

Except that blondie Sanji seemed to have other plans. Their little spat barely lasted ten seconds before the cook shot out to grab his companion’s earlobe by the trio of gold earrings and tugged viciously. “Enough, Zoro.”

“That asshole started it first! Who knows if the White Duchy really sent him here.”

“Whatever the truth is, he’s a guest! No one messes with starving guests who need to eat.”

Zoro mumbled a complaint under its breath, though he was loud enough for everyone else to hear that the lop-eared fuck didn’t believe that Buggy was a starving guest. Buggy wisely chose to shut the fuck up, despite the temptation to bite out that he is indeed a starving guest.

Nevertheless, he was grateful enough for the interruption and excuse to avoid the fight, greedily slinking back to his seat to fill up his plate with a second helping of mash and chops. “So do you have a brother that’s constantly wearing a straw hat then?”

“No.” Was Zoro’s gruff reply, “Like I said. I’m a hare, that guy, Luffy, is a white rabbit.”

“And pray fucking tell, what the flashy difference is.”

“Means we’re both different species and I’m obviously not his brother. He’s got two of his own already anyway…Shitty oldest one can’t stop flirting with any moving thing–”

“ Zoro. ”

“Right, yeah.” Lop-eared hare -man withered under the blond’s warning. “No insulting guests, cook, I get it.”

“Get it earlier then. They’ll be soon so don’t let them hear your crass words.”

“They’re what–” Buggy interjected, cold panic spreading in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“The D. brothers. They’re good customers.” Sanji shrugged plainly, clarifying. 

“Walking stomachs, cook.” His green-haired companion helpfully reminded. “As great men they are, they’re also ever-hungry mouths.”

“Shush, Marimo. The Queen of Hearts compensates me for all their expenses.”

“Doesn’t change a damn thing. Your food deserves to be paid better, the royals should be fighting to pay you, you dart-brow. But instead, you’re here paying rent to all of them because–”’

“Exactly because what , Mossy? Care to dare finish that sentence?” The pair levelled each other, their expressions painting an equal impasse. 

Buggy watched them clash again, stacking gravy-slathered pigs in a blanket and duck pancakes  as high as Sanji’s now twenty-tiered hat stack on his plate. Briefly, he wondered why the green-haired swordsman bothered to stick around ‘Hatter’s Lodge’ if all they did was fight, but found his question answered quickly enough at how easy it was to disguise their fight as foreplay. The ringing of their battle continued even ‘til Buggy served himself a new plate of pesto-coated Gemelli. He looked away at the cooling fight before him.  A scarred palm lingered long enough on a porcelain navel, while a dark heel pressed just at the right spot onto a tanned clavicle. These perverts really couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Disgusting .

“San– jiii! ” A voice called out making Buggy sit up straighter and dig his visage deeper into his own meal. From a previously unnoticed path hopped out an overexcited rabbit (which are not the same as hares, the blue-haired man noted), wriggling its furred body onto a chair on the other side of the long table. It was a wonder to see the pink-tinted nose twitch as the animal identified foodstuffs from decoration and dragged primarily grilled steaks and ribs onto his plate whilst ignoring any vegetables strategically placed in between. “Thanks for the meat! You’re the best!”

“Glad you could make it, Luffy.”

“ Shishishi , you know I’ll never miss a chance to eat your food.” That same impish grin, that same snicker. It was him alright.

Whatever warning bells this rabbit named Luffy spooked into the blue-haired man’s instincts only seared as two more white rodents hopped behind the straw hat’s heels. One wore a cowboy hat, whilst the other, a top hat.

“Tweedle dee, tweedle doo, tweedle dum.” Zoro supplied, whatever that gibberish actually meant. Thankfully enough, the white rabbit brothers (who are again, not hares) opted to sit far away at the other end of the table.

Strawhat Luffy thankfully hadn’t noticed him as he chittered with his brothers, each of them exploding in a white puff of clouds one after the other to reveal three young men with much more distinctive features and personalities. What didn’t change was the way Luffy’s jaw stretched to unhinge beyond what should be possible to inhale the piping hot food served in front of him. Alarmingly, the two brothers only followed suit sans freaky rubbery tricks, seemingly competing in who could eat more than their body weight.

Licking his lips off sweetly caramelised kimchi jam, Buggy strained to hear their conversation. Difficult, with the distance and how the pair sitting next to him entered another shouting match.

“Yeah, so the guy tried to eat me, and then he got angry when I said I’ll eat him back,” Luffy garbles out between chews, long white ears peeking on either side of his hat twitching energetically. His human features look recognizable, except for the scar under his right eye that was more prominent than as a rabbit. 

The rabbit man wearing a cowboy hat on Luffy’s left guffawed. “Serves him right. Did he at least put up a good fight?”

“ Nah . he was good at running away and then I had to leave because I was hungry and it's Sanji’s tea time. But yeah, on my way, I forgot I had to stop by the castle and give my report.”

“So you just left them alone?” It was the blond in a top hat who spoke up this time. 

“Kind of…” A frown creased Strawhat’s brow, enough to make him pause eating. “Damn…I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, I guess if they’re then they’re meant to be here.”

“Did you end up doing what you were supposed to do though? Or did you get too distracted trying to fight some random person?” Cowboy hat slipped in.

“Aceee…” Luffy whined as Buggy noted down the new information. Now only top hat remained nameless. “It sounds like I failed my orders when you put it like that.”

“Hey–I was just asking, little bro.”

“He’s right Luffy, you did have an important job to do if you want to prove yourself.”

“Sabo! Not you too.” Straw hat’s betrayed whine was funny enough, but the rest of the conversation tittered into other useless things.

Poking the food in front of him, Buggy carefully ruminated over the implications of that trio’s conversation. So he was here thanks to his bad luck. Because he was caught in some unknown crossfire between Strawhat and his ‘job’. Then why would that Crocodile guy say there would be people happy to see him? Was it just some toked-up bullshit spouted from his most-definitely-laced-with-someting cigar? Or was he supposed to be some quack fortune teller messing with the blue-haired man on purpose?

It sucked, the way his heart sank like an anchor into his stomach. Acknowledging it sucked felt worse though, because it meant that Buggy had hoped for something. Hoped to feel precious, wanted, welcomed…or whatever was the opposite thing he’s choking up right now. It’s complicated.

He barely flinched when the rabbit trio got up to approach their host for a chat, only half-heartedly ducking his face lower and hoping the whole roasted turkey in front of him was enough to hide his identity. Too tied up in their rapid discussion though, nobody acknowledged him. Something that caused another pang of hurt yet confusingly, relief.

Buggy chose to focus on his slice of tart instead, his fork stabbing a little too hard on the layer of baked green apples. Rivulets of caramel drizzle dripped messily as he lifted the perfect bite to his mouth. The buttery pastry base was delightfully still crunchy despite the weight of the filling and sauce, which he relished in until a small breeze flapped by his cheek.

A butterfly landed delicately atop his left knuckle. The insect flapped its wings lazily, giving Buggy time to observe its primarily red and black colours with three white spots near the edge of its forewings. Curiously he brought his hand closer to eye level, noting how the insect’s red spots were in the shape of hearts. 

What he didn’t realise was how much the action drew attention from his audience. Straw hat’s gaze slipped into one of recognition, to Buggy’s chagrin, while the blondie host’s narrowed.

“ Oh! ” Cried Luffy. Which was Buggy’s only warning before a thousand fluttering wings descended upon him.

“Hi…” He greeted them shyly, crumbs of pastries left forgotten on his plate. He was better prepared this time and didn’t bother to swat the fragile insects away even if they flew too close to his eyes. Instead, he regarded them as an old friend and watched the iridescent shift of their wings. Their intricate crimson colour shimmered with each flap, morphing into a pale blue that he was oh-so-familiar with. The insects’ proximity to Buggy seemed to affect the change, as the closer and longer they crowded Buggy, the more permanent the change was. Especially the ones who managed to land on the blue-haired man’s outstretched arm, the kiss of his skin immediately blessing them a morph.

‘ Can’t you stay longer?’ A boyish voice echoes in his mind. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’

“No…”

‘Stay, please. I can’t live without you. ’

“I…can’t,” Buggy replied, suddenly all too aware of his own deep voice and the thrum of his throat. Gossamer wings traced his cheekbones, neck and wrists to leave ephemeral touches that only weighed like boulders. His head hurts, heavy from the sprouting migraine that made him wish he could lie down on a comfy pillow and sleep this whole nightmare away. “ Fucking… Get away from me!”

He heard the loud bang before he felt warmth spreading from his palm to the tips of his fingers. Pain came later, ringing through the bones of his phalanx. He refused to cry, breathing sharply as he fought against the sting in his eyes. The butterflies seem spooked, scattering into the wind like fallen petals. Before long, Buggy was left to stare at his audience, each wearing an expression more incredulous than the last.

“Hey!”

“What?” His reply felt too weak for his taste. Running a trembling hand through his hair, Buggy could feel the cold sweat running down his scalp. Any fight left in him had melted and he collapsed in his chair.

“That’s so cool!” Straw hat’s face leaned too close for his liking while the rest of his body stretched behind him.

“Is it?”

“Yeah! I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Does it matter?”

Buggy refused to look his way longer, barely glimpsing how Straw hat’s mouth twitched in obvious upset as he pushed himself up and away from the table.

Plates fly, foodstuffs thrown. Someone called out to him, or multiple people did. One long arm, then another, a spark of heat, a ring of metal. But he was better at evading. And run, run , run, he needed to . The leaves brushing against his cheeks as he dove deeper into the forest felt like an old friend’s welcome as mud and rocks crunched crunched underfoot, as llush grass grumbled at each step. His lungs burned like they never had before, from age and fear. 

‘Need any help, Buggy?’

“No…” He parsed through through the distortion, trying to hear just who it was buried under his memories. All he could remember was red. Red…redredredred…

‘Come on…aren’t we friends?’ 

“We aren’t.”

‘Why won’t you stay ?’   The voice pleaded, sounding so desperate, pitiful. Yet Buggy’s rage only burned brighter, compounding emotions crushing into each other until he was left with nothing but the rippling ache echoing in his chest. 

“Go fuck yourself!” Like a raging hurricane he tears through the forest as earthy colours bloomed to life, grabbing handfuls of leaves and twigs to fling them messil while the trees around him trembled as they witnessed his anger, even if these ones dared not to shy away. Part of him whispered that he should have stayed, should have been braver, should have feigned ignorance and learned something, anything , to clue why he stumbled here. Though as always he can’t, he can’t .

So he screamed, screamed himself hoarse as he crumpled weakly onto the forest floor. 

Because just who was he? Some gold-loving fool who always thoughtlessly wished his fate would burn brighter than what he could ever handle.

Slowly he counted his breath, regulating each inhale and the next. Madness tasted like warm poison on the back of his mind. Poison leaking to the tip of his tongue as a sharp giggle sounding just like his own voice echoed in the air. His chipped nails twitched from where they buried themselves in the dense soil underneath him, too weak to snap out of the swirling of greens, and browns twisting in his vision. This world loves him? Pure bullshit if he ever thought of it. Why was he so stupid to ever feed his own delusional ego.

“Need any help?”

“Didn’t you hear me–” the rest of his words died as a warm touch settled on his hand. An embarrassingly bare tan chest greeted him, covered by weak-willed strips of what should have been a white shirt. Disgusted at the display of familiarity, Buggy slammed his palms onto the other’s skin as he desperately tried not to dwell about the momentary brush of warmth igniting below his palms. A flick of his gaze upwards revealed the other man’s facial features, a wry smile betrayed by the twinkling glimmer of his eyes (one of which had three vertical claw marks that made Buggy wonder if that weird grinning cat was the one that caused such a deep scar) and flattened crimson hair in dire need of thorough washing and detangling oil.

And very rudely so he realized late as he took in the heavy crown resting on the other man’s head. One made of gold, tastefully arranged rubies and velvet crimson, Buggy noted, appreciating the way the cloth shifts between the darkest of red and black. It took another moment for him to register the inlaid gemstone were heart-shaped, each one identical in structure and size as far as the eye could see. “Are you some kind of royal?”

“...I am. Great job for guessing.”

“Huh. Is some weird cat gonna climb all over you?”

The stranger laughed, his voice heavy and amused that sent heat climbing into Buggy’s cheeks. “What kind of adventure have you been on?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” He allowed the stranger to help him up, trying not to focus on the rough calluses sliding up against his own palm. He couldn’t even find his heart to complain the way he was led through the forest, held so precious even as they stepped carefully over numerous thick root knots. Canopies of evergreen watched over the pair, colourful flora staying still at their approach. Rose blooms tempt themselves for him to pick on each tree branch as far as he could see, each one in different shades of vermillions and carmines. The blue-haired man ignored the implausibility of such sights, he had seen stranger things.

The clearing Buggy stepped out of this time greeted him as a castle. It was distinctly larger than both the White estate and Hatter’s lodge combined. Greedy eyes drank in the sights he was led through. Red roses bloomed on gold-draped stems, precious rubies embedded even at the smallest of garden decorations all owned by a well-dressed owner who lived and breathed such riches. What he deemed as a sprawling garden in Duchess Corazon’s was a mere claustrophobic square of land, quickening Buggy’s heartbeat at endless displays of opulence.

They walked far enough for the blue-haired man to wonder if a carriage was usually available to bring them to and from each end of the property. His legs were beginning to ache from the amount of walking he had to do. Belatedly he turned towards the other man, doubt etched in the furrow of his brows. “Where are you taking me?”

Another carefree laugh was his only reply, “What do you think?”

His answer came not long after, as soon as he stepped onto a decorated space, crowded by attendants in various shapes and sizes. Chattering guards dressed in whites milled about, furrowing hedgehogs lounged curled amongst flamingo shaped mallets. A game was set afoot, cemented by the chalk scoreboard depicting a 12-5 scoreboard with Home winning. It was easy enough to guess what exactly was going on. “A croquet game?”

“Yes, care to join me?”

The blue-haired man paused at the invitation. “Really? Why the hell is it always croquet?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Why’s everyone so obsessed with the game?”

That made the other man frown. Buggy held his breath as the other leaned way too close. Scrounging an ounce of politeness he tried not to stare too hard at the three straight lines of scars marring most of the other man’s features. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Confused, I guess? What made you say that?”

Shit, was it a death sentence to question playing croquet here? “Uh, just…curious? Been hearing a lot of people talk about it…”

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

Didn’t … ? Was this guy implying that– “You know me?”

The man sputtered, stumbling on thin air . “Okay…Please just tell me you’re just playing me right now.”

“Good idea…Except I’m not.” He couldn’t even care to hide the droll leaking out of his voice. Were people here just so plain thick? Or did they just have selective hearing? A beat of silence passed, and then two. Buggy barely avoided biting off his tongue as he’s yanked forwards, slamming onto a sturdy chest with a loud bang! His cheeks flushed a peach, the colour only darkening as desperate hands settled on his nape, pressing him in place. “What the fuck?!”

“Buggy,” the other man whispered. “Don’t you remember me?”

Buggy squirmed in the tight hold, skin crawling at the warmth as his mind tore himself apart in two, one yearning to burrow closer whilst goosepins prickled his upper arms, ready to yank the taller man off him. “Let go.”

“Come on, it's just me…”

His discomfort spiked into frustration, then blazing into anger. “You fucker, let go of me!” There was a grunt as his foot connected with the other’s shin, taking the chance to slip away when the hold loosened. The stranger’s gaze flashed in obvious hurt, arm still reaching out in yearning. Buggy stood his ground, despite the heaviness weighing the back of his mind. “I should go.”

The stranger chuckled, though it sounded more like a strangled wheeze. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the floor, tiled pale marbles with red and gold veins that looked more interesting that the other man’s face. Would he need to turn around or keep going forward though? The geography of this place confused him, but perhaps the Hatter’s Lodge would be safer than anywhere else. Mind made up, Buggy took three determined steps towards the forest he came from and awkwardly waved back. “I should go.”

“You can’t!” 

The other man’s desperate shout was his only warning as his vision burst with reds and blues descended on him, thousands of gossamer wings crowding tight enough to obstruct his movements. Their numbers overwhelmed him, even more disconcerting as they were packed tight enough to jam to each other, rending each other’s wings, antennas and other body parts. If one fell, too damaged to continue flying, seemingly five more would take its place. The scene reminded Buggy of an overcrowded cage built to inadvertently cause suffering to its occupant. Except that butterflies were what made the cage this time, and both he and them were suffocating each other.

And the colours. Fuck. With each flap, the wings shifted from red and blue. Only, its unsynchronised nature meant it was a chaos of colours in between each other, any mesmerising thought twisting into nausea. Desperate, Buggy waved his hands around, frustrated enough to be indifferent to the insect’s lives. The pile of insect parts around him only grew bigger, scattered from self-harm and everything else. A gossamer wing flapped weakly under his shoes, shifting from a brilliant red to pale blue before it went still. The sight caused him to stumble backwards, a wave of cold panic washing over him as his heel slipped on a patch of grass and fully resigned to crack his skull. 

“Buggy!”

Still alive.

The first thing he noticed after he braved himself enough to open his eyes (when did he shut them anyway) were white and pink clouds floating across a teal sky. The second thing he noticed as his breath slowed down into something calmer, were the misshapen clouds that unmistakably depicted hearts. The third thing he notices, were the inhumanly numbered grip currently holding him in place. A quick glance downward revealed black vines winding themselves around his wrists, chests and thighs.

Numbly, Buggy kept himself still as the extra help righted him, his wary gaze trailing up the branch splits to a single dark tendril. One that came up to his saviour’s arm and seemingly attached to it.

“Red…” the name spills from his lips easily. He looks, really looks this time, taking in each scar and age line etched onto the other’s skin. Gone was the mischievous teen that begged him to stay with impossible promises. It didn’t change that it was him though, the man Buggy’s mind had been screaming at him to remember ever since he met that straw hat wearing rabbit.  “What happened to you…?”

Red only guffaws, relieved as he threw himself at Buggy again, who refrained from kicking him away despite the obvious tenseness in his shoulders. Instead, the blue-haired man stiltedly pat his back thrice before his discomfort took over and he, gently this time, detached himself from the hold.

“Finally remember me, huh?”

Chapter Text

To say the Queen of Heart’s domain welcomed Buggy wholeheartedly was an understatement. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to say, the Queen was the one who wholeheartedly welcomed the above-world guest.

“Good morning,” the royal greeted as he caught sight of the blue-haired man entering the room. Abandoned by the faceless servant that had led him down to the kitchen, Bugy awkwardly shuffled towards the table. Tactfully, he slid into the seat directly opposite Red’s, the best he could do to keep Red’s lack of knowledge on personal space at a smaller table.

“How was your sleep?”

“Fine.” Half truth. It was both the best yet most horrible night he’d ever experienced. While the mattress, the silk sheets, and his sleep robes were fucking amazing and nearly dragged him to sleep within seconds, the room was too well-decorated with treasures for Buggy to ignore. Counting gemstones in his mind usually helped him sleep, but who could sleep when he could count real diamonds embedded in the ceilings right above his bed? Red’s laugh tickled his ears as he grabbed the nearest cup of coffee, to which Buggy glared at the innocent drink instead of responding verbally.

Mad Hatter’s presence was now a familiar one, chattering shyly as he stood beside Red. The blond described the dishes on the table now that both diners were finally present to listen (or at least pretended to). Every plate present clearly oozed some degree of extravagance, fit for a literal Queen. Buggy poked at a pan of baked eggs with the edge of his toast stick, breathing in the scent of truffle that was generously shaved on top amongst carefully placed pieces of edible gold leaf.

Even the room around him did nothing to hide its opulence despite the fact the pair were sitting at a breakfast nook in the castle’s kitchen instead of a dining room. His mind spun as he estimated the total value of the uniform red-veined marble tiles, intricate bespoke furnishings, and ornate statues bedazzled with precious gems. There were a few things he already imagined taking easily, small enough that no one else would notice.

“Won’t you tell me how you’ve been doing so far, it’s been too long.”

“Yeah, too long.” Buggy echoed, counting nearly two decades since they last saw each other in Wonderland. “You’ve changed a lot.”

Red smiled in reply, continuing his breakfast that smelled of omelette and fried rice that strongly smelled of capsaicin. Sanji had gone somewhere fuck knows by now, which meant they were the only ones left. Two grown-ass adults who hadn’t seen each other in too long, now sharing a square table stacked with food and too little space between them (according to Buggy). “You still remember me though.”

Ah, about that. Buggy frowns, traipsing through his memories to muster up as many as he could. He found himself unable to fully lie though, “I don’t remember everything.”

It was hilarious, and pitiful, the way Red deflated like a popped balloon long forgotten at the end of a carnival. “Really?”

“…I remember playing Croquet a bit. I remember you were less annoying and you were the same pathetic brat. But I don't remember you giving away your hat to some rabbit brat.”

“Hmm…well, Luffy wasn’t in the picture until a few years ago so you didn’t miss much.” Red’s fork slowly tapped against the rim of his plate. Clink, clink, clink, silver prongs sang against delicate porcelain. The silence brought a hush, still an order to demand attention despite their lack of an audience. “I’m curious how much you really remember though, tell me more?”

Buggy couldn’t refuse. Not when the atmosphere in the room tensed into something delicate, no trace of Red’s usual amenable personality in the way his gaze roamed hungrily across Buggy’s skin. He stuttered out a summary the best he could of what he had experienced in the past, only to wince when Red clung to every detail of his story and demanded the blue-haired man to elaborate more, more, and then even more.

Did you miss me? He could hear Red trying to say between all the questions he asked instead. And of course, he ignores it, as he always did. All too suddenly, the teacup rimmed with red enamel looked much more interesting. Too interesting that he preferred to pick it up and sip on the honeyed tea rather than acknowledge Red’s desperate gaze.

“You didn’t change much,” he muttered as he placed his teacup back. “Flashily stupid as ever.”

Red’s smile continued to blind him, slipping off like melted butter on warm pancakes. “I’m glad you’re just as I remembered too Buggy. Except for the nicknaming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…you were never big on giving people specific nicknames unless it’s adjacent with some swear word.”

“Huh…” His voice trailed off weakly as he realised the implication. A part of him wanted to tell Red that he hadn’t yet remembered everything between them and just be done with it. But there was something, in the way Red looked at him expectantly that stiffened his tongue.  “Well, it suits you doesn’t it?”

“It does!” And just like that, the tension fizzled and the conversation was forgotten.

What refused to go away was (unfortunately) Red’s excitement. The energy levels emanating from this man remained the same despite their current age. It wasn’t as if he was dragged through excruciating levels or physical activities like hunting or even a full tour of every room in the insanely expansive castle. No, Red had invited him to sit in the throne room and just chat in-between court discussions. But by the second hour, Buggy was dogged and ready to take a nap, certainly exhausted enough to ignore the jewels in his room.

One of the many infuriating parts he did not miss about the man was his inability to just shut the fuck up . And it was one thing if the man was actually doing his job to counsel his fucking citizens or whatever, but Red chose to instead drag Buggy into a conversation every few moments despite his already short answers and clipped tone. Because, the damn hall is way more interesting than any conversation when there were so many royal items for him to observe. Now, because the shithead can’t stop running his mouth, the promised thirty minutes of morning assembly with the Red Queen’s council ticked away into its second hour. 

As he looked upon the crowd for the first time, Buggy realised he wasn’t festering in annoyance alone. Many of Shank’s council members shared the same sentiment. Most notably sharing his ire was the long grey-haired man puffing away at his cigar, sighing every time Red would turn and pull in Buggy for another one of their useless conversations. Others include a dirty blond man in dreadlocks, a young girl with dual-coloured hair, and a large pale man Buggy could only describe as a vampire crocheting body parts as hissing bats flitted around his head.

And he would like to very much not be here to be gawked at, no matter how discreet they were all trying to be.

“I’m leaving,” he hissed out to Red. Nothing in his tone allowed negotiating, and he was already halfway up his seat before anyone could blink. Apparently, it didn’t stop the other man’s woeful desperation though, the way the noble’s hand shot out too fast for Buggy to avoid. In a blink, a strong grip enveloped his wrist. Again, he found himself staring at the other’s teary gaze, deep eyes quivering as the taller man’s lips twisted into a pout .

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Well aware of the crowd around him, he was desperate to rip the bandages and be done with it. But no matter how much he tried to pull, Red stayed stubborn, and he was left like a fool playing a game of tug of war with his own limb. “Oi…let go!”

“You can’t leave.”

“Are you–” His gaze flicks back and forth between the stupid Queen and the rest of the curious onlookers. With fury roaring through his veins, Buggy ripped away his hand with a scathing hiss. “I’m bored . Like hell are you forcing me to stay here? Just let me out of this damn meeting so I can look at things that are actually interesting.”

“Oh.” The hand loosened its grip almost immediately. “If that’s what you want to do then yeah sure. Sorry for boring you here, Buggy.”

He left the throne room through a side door as a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of Red’s teary expression refusing to leave his mind’s eye. There was stuffiness in his chest, suffocating his lungs and throat with endless cotton despite how much he’d like it to stop. Guilt dogged behind, weighing down his solar plexus as he ate into Red’s pathetic display.

It was tricky, trying to sift through his feelings and figure out if he actually missed Red or if he just missed his childhood that longed for adventure.

The temporary separation from Red should help. He just had to find a hiding spot good enough to keep the other man away from him for an hour at least. It’s nowhere enough, but he’ll take any sliver of peace and quiet. His bedroom came to mind.

No, that’ll be the first place Red guesses.

Maybe the trick was to hide somewhere so unpredictable, which was helpful since Buggy had no idea which rooms led where. All he had to do was pick one of the many mystery doors and stay there.

Most looked similar to one another, similar carvings carved onto the wood that tempted him to feel each groove. Others differed slightly in size and the jewels embedding them. None resonated with him, even as he climbed up and down the stairs and through numerous empty hallways. Meanwhile the doors that instinctively invited him to open revealed empty guestrooms or empty ones filled with furnishings questionable enough to make the blue haired man wonder their function.

“Are you lost?”

“Nope, I’m n…n-no– what the fuck?!” The sight of a disembodied lip growing out of the wall next to him had him jumping three feet into the air. Blinking once, twice, and then thrice, he swiped the imaginary dust from his vision. Still the thing refused to go away. A pathetic whimper slipped out of him before he could help it. “Definitely not…”

“Pardon me for saying so, the thought came to me after seeing you wander around for quite a while.”

“And why does that mean I’m lost…maybe I’m just enjoying a flashy walk?!”

Her faceless laugh echoed creepily within the empty hallway, “With a very panicked expression I see. How quaint!”

“See? With what eyes?”

“These,” and a pair of brown eyes appeared on the wall above the lips.

“What the fuck ?!” He fully screeched this time, spooked out of his wits. The lips smiled, another bout of her amused laughter ringing in Buggy’s ears. “Okay! Fine! I’m lost, stop doing that. S’ fucking creepy.”

“I’d be happy to point you towards the right direction if you’d tell me where your destination is.”

“I’m good, just need to find some peace and quiet.”

“Then you’ve just described the library.”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea. Buggy couldn't imagine Red ever even going near the place. He nodded at her offer, swallowing down another shriek that would’ve ripped his vocal chords bloody when multiple limbs sprouted off the wall. Even if said limbs tried to be helpful, each one pointing where he needed to go.

Up and down through winding staircases he went, confidence growing with each step he took. Portraits of gaudy nobles dressed in shades of red decorating the hallways peered at him from time to time, in similar styles to the ones he encountered at that strange circular room. The complicated route and boring destination would definitely keep Red at bay.

He held his tongue throughout, keeping any less than kind opinions about the current situation to himself. Interestingly enough, the route they took happened to be deserted. Buggy had never seen the castle look so empty ever since he arrived. Perhaps whatever strange monster he was following disliked being seen by others. It didn’t change how badly he was creeped out by the flowering limbs that continued to appear and disappear as he passed them.

“We’re here,” she said, finally after so many steps. Buggy stared at the set of double doors towering thrice his height, a grand silver-leafed Yggdrasil decorating the plane. The heavy brass handle felt rough under his palm, its quality evident as he struggled to push it open.

He sucked a deep breath at the sight that greeted him. High ceilings, high shelves, and high-backed chairs. Too many things had been crammed into the expansive room, parts of the world’s knowledge scattered and stuffed into different crevices. The chaos of the Red Queen’s castle was non-existent here, blocked off and isolated. It didn’t take long for his gaze to fall onto the black-haired woman sitting on a plush red armchair with an open book in her hands.

Chapter Text

“Welcome, Buggy, the Queen of Heart’s guest. My name is Nico Robin.”

“Wait, you’re not a ghost?” It was too easy to recognize her voice, haunting enough as her creepy laughter continued to ring in his ears. 

“That would mean I must die first, which I hope you aren’t cursing me too.”

Fuck her laugh was giving him goosebumps. “Right, Nico Robin, you’re not a ghost. So what’s with the weird floating body parts?” He flicked his gaze thoughtfully at her appearance, “and the ears.”

“I’m a mouse. Not a dormouse.” As if stating her species ended the mystery Buggy wondered about.“And my limbs would be from the powers of my devil fruit.”

He’s reminded of the hare and rabbit difference, except he doesn’t even know what a dormouse is and he’s not sure why she needed to put her foot down to differentiate herself. There were too many mysteries and… “Devil…fruit?” The word rolled foreign on his tongue, tingling like forbidden knowledge. “What exactly is that?”

“You could say they’re mysterious powers of Wonderland, condensed into strange fruits. For instance, I ate the Hana-Hana no Mi that now allows me to sprout my body parts anywhere I want.”

He’s never heard of such things before, but it made sense. The way that Luffy rabbit stretched as if he was made of rubber. “Do devil fruits also turn you into some kind of flashy transforming animal then?”

Nico Robin hummed, her ears twitching in interest as her long fingers drummed against the velvet upholstery. “No, those two phenomenons aren’t related. After all, devil fruits are merely the tip of Wonderland’s magical iceberg…Which I’m sure you have encountered already.”

She wasn’t wrong. Leaving aside that rubbery rabbit, smoking crocodile, and hat obsessed blond; the flamingo mallets and card servants weren’t normal things to encounter either in his usual scene. Wonderland though, putting a word to the place only felt like acknowledging that his experiences weren’t just a childhood hallucination. “More than I’d like to.”

Nico Robin’s smile never faltered, even as her attention slid away from him to resume her reading. He took the chance to look around the room, peering between the alleys of bookshelves. They didn’t look too different to one another, labelled by an alphabet and number etched on each column with a graceful script. Spots of yellow and red glittered across the surface, drawing his eyes upward to the domed ceiling above and towards the suncatcher hanging at its center support beam.

Made of mainly topaz and rubies, it was by far the shiniest thing in the room and perhaps by design; to have such a solemn place decorated only by the barest of treasures. Knowledge itself was a form of treasure that many believed outweighed the value of gold, after all. 

“...Does Red have some kind of Devil Fruit too?” Buggy asked, raising his voice from where he stood behind a bookshelf, tracing his fingers across the jutting spines with worn out words.

“He’s powerful enough even without one. He’s Wonderland’s reigning Queen, after all.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. That’s why he’s the Queen around here, huh.” The random book he picked up was titled ‘A Hundred More Chess Moves’ , boring enough to put down without checking. “I don’t remember the White Duchy being around though.”

“You know about the White and Red Queens?” He could hear the distinct sound of Robin’s book snapping shut, her full attention now within this conversation. “So it’s true you’ve been here quite a long time ago.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“You’ve been the topic of a few conversations. More often than a lot of us here would have liked unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, “Sap.” But the thought of it had him coming back to where Robin lounged, dropping himself onto the seat across hers. “Yeah I’ve been here, back when Red and I were brats.”

“Red…?”

Buggy nodded. “He taught me how to play croquet and we’d play against…some other princes, One with Hearts and Spades on their clothes.” Thinking back, that Rosinante guy seemed familiar.

“The young Queens,” Nico Robin thoughtfully supplied. “Hard to imagine them as children.”

“I don’t remember you being around either.”

“Well, that’s because I’ve only just descended here for about two years.”

“Descended…?” Don’t tell me–

“Yes, just like you, I was originally human. I searched for Wonderland and once I arrived, it was easy to decide I like it better here. There isn’t a day I regret giving up the ability to breathe in the Aboveworld.”

“What’s the difference with the air here and anywhere else? Air can’t be some flashy thing that’s different down here.”

“That’s because you aren’t considered a Wonderland citizen.” With her graceful smile still in place, Nico Robin waved her arm in the air. “Wonderland, I’m afraid, is very loving yet possessive. She loves her citizens too much that she’d refuse to let them leave. Hence why our borders are surrounded by a deadly sea that would kill anyone who’d dare step in.”

“Th–”

Her sharp gaze pinned him in place, never leaving a chance for Buggy to voice his questions yet. “Leaving Wonderland to go to the Aboveworld would drown you all the same. Even if you haven’t felt its effects, there is poison in the air here. The more of it you breathe in, the deeper its clutches will sink in you.”

“Then how did that rabbit guy go up and find me?” He was sure that guy didn’t seem to have any trouble breathing when they fought.

“Rabbit…Did you mean Luffy?” She hummed, deep in thought. “That would be because he was acting on the Queen of Hearts’ orders. Wonderland won’t see that as an escape attempt.”

“Wait.” There was something specific that he caught on, “Orders? You’re implying that Red ordered someone to take me here? ”

“Yes, the Queen of Hearts. He’s been quite a… revolutionary ruler. Unlike anything Wonderland has ever had, if the history books were telling the truth.”

Buggy scoffed, “As if Red’s ever motivated enough to do that. I know him well enough.”

“You’re talking about the man who single handedly decided to rearrange the ruling system and abolish two of three Wonderland Kingdoms. Are you sure you know him well, Buggy?”

“I do…” he lies. He’s grasping at straws. He knows this, but why? Because Red had been the only one colouring his life? Or because he left, deciding he was too grown up to play house and that he needed to live in the ‘real world’ instead. He could still remember Red, pleading for him to stay. But he was here now, and what he thought were imaginary friends were real. 

What did that mean? For Red to want him back. And what did that mean, now that he was here?

“I…” Nails digging painfully in his palm, Buggy’s mind stumbled through any possible explanation for Red’s behaviour. Each new thought only  onto their respective deadends, leaving him stumbling his next words. “I…”

Her sigh made him flinch, snapping him out his thoughts. “It seems you’ll have quite a lot of things to sort in your mind.”

“I do.”

“Then…feel free to come by here again.” Nico Robin’s suggestion sounded far away. “The knowledge stored here will always welcome anyone who needs it.”

“Thanks but no thanks.” Since when did he have her back towards her, and his palms flat against the door. Numbly, he pushed it open, a heavy-kind of nausea weighing down his navel. Bright rays blinded him just so temporarily as the difference between lighting rained on him. His steps echoed in the hallways, silent as it were when he first headed towards the library. Perhaps it really wasn’t a specific route that Nico Robin chose, but it was just a place that others tended to avoid.

Was Red done with his meeting? Buggy was sure he hadn’t spent too much time in there, but the sun above him wasn’t as high anymore. He watched his shadow lengthen, a lone accompaniment at his side. Fuck… So much for the peace and quiet he sought for.

With a hand against his chest, he felt the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Nico Robin mentioned poison…so had it started to seep into him? It wasn’t like he trusted her, but her words aroused a sense of apprehensiveness. How long was he able to stay here before the effects manifested, and what would he become…when it starts to show?

“Is this where you’ve been?” 

“ What the fu– ” He hadn’t heard any footsteps. “Since when did you get here?!” Close, too close. Red’s warm breath clung to him like warm syrup, sending pleasant tingling down his spine. Learning from past experience, Buggy ducked before an arm could pull him closer, cringing at the offended whine from the other man. 

“Why?!” 

Buggy chose to ignore him. And his teary pout. “Are you done with court?”

“Yeah, finally.” Apparently the cold shoulder only made Red brush off his pathetic act, the man straightening and finally looking like the noble he is. “Sorry, were you bored without me?”

“Definitely not.” He led themselves out of the deserted wing, picking random turns just to keep their distance apart. Red caught up easily–no thanks to the man’s longer legs–but made no move to harass Buggy again. A few card servants greeted them as they passed, their curiosity of the Queen’s guest too obvious to hide their glances.

Only the painful dig of nails into his palms hinted at his annoyance. If Red noticed his quickening pace every time they passed by another gaggle of giggling gawkers, he said nothing. Or maybe he was too quiet, letting Buggy lead them around in circles. On purpose.

Buggy flicked to carefully observe the man’s reactions. His bright smile never faltered, crow’s feet crinkling between the corners of his eyes whenever he met Buggy’s glances. It would take an absolute idiot to not notice they’ve passed the same portrait five times, and even bigger idiot to not say anything as Buggy made the same turns and avoided any staircases. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat, nor slipping out any quips while Buggy could feel his calves start to creak. 

“Alright, that's it!” He shouted, sanity and patience drying out faster than a little puddle in the desert. “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? Why the hell are you following me, you know this place better than me?”

“Well…” Red hummed cheerily. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

“No?!” He wasn’t exactly wrong per se, but still– “Why would you think that?”

The other man shrugged, boyish as he always were. “Do you know have another place in mind?”

“Your treasury.” The words stumbled out without much thought. He paled a second later, slapping a hand over his mouth as he wished he could take the words back. Stupid, stupid , he should’ve hidden his greed better.

“You…”

Fuck, he should probably start running.

“Ha!” Red cackled instead, smacking his knee as he threw his head back. His shoulders shook as his rambunctious laughter melted away Buggy’s anxiety. “You…you never change Buggy!”

“Yeah…” he smiled nervously. “Yeah I never did huh.” He stood, frozen in place as he watched the other man continue to laugh, a dangerous flush creeping to the tips of his ear. In a short moment, he saw Red’s younger self, scarless and bursting with childhood mischief. The vision was gone far too quickly, the memory fading back into the furthest corners. But you have.  

“Sure thing,” Red says at last, wiping tears away from his eyes. His shoulders shook slightly, still holding on to the last of his joy before it softens into a gentle smile. “Anything for you.” 

“R-really?”

“Yeah. Not today though.” Warm fingers encircled his arm, smoothly pulling Buggy closer before he had a chance to complain. “The area’s currently blocked off for renovation. I promise I’ll take you along when its done.”

A wicked smile stretches on his face as he mulled over the promise, the thought of gold and silver twisting his emotions into loops. Red would be nice enough to let him take whatever he wished for right? All those precious stones and pearls rolling on the palms of his hands… “Oi! Hands off!”

Really, this guy… The hand had trailed lower without him noticing, now resting on the small of his back. Red, that perverted fuck , dared to laugh even as he tried to push him off. The other man’s grip was immovable as stone even as he pinched up Red’s forearms, the hard muscle flexing under his touch. It hadn’t stopped there though, the other man daring to press his face onto the crook of Buggy’s neck. Red’s shoulders loosened the longer he stayed, tracing the bony clavicle with the tip of his nose.

“Just for a while, Buggy,” the Queen of Hearts pleaded. “And then we can go wherever you want.”

And did he have the heart to refuse?

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

“Fuck, get off me.”

The scene was familiar by now, but it didn’t mean that Buggy was used to it. He hissed from where Red had him cornered against the wall, pressing himself onto it like it’d swallow him. Even if he wanted to duck away, there was no escaping the black vines flicking lazily around them. Sneaky fingers pinched his chin, forcing him to face Red’s eyes, warm as a cup of tea.

“I missed you.”

“We just saw each other at dinner!”

“That was a while ago.”

A familiar ache twinges at his temple, he’s been feeling more of it lately the more Red acts up. Desperate, he smacks his hand on Red’s face. He regrets it as a wet tongue lapped against his palm. “Ugh. Can we just have a normal breakfast please?”

“Oh, sorry.” Red’s real arm snaked around his waist, hanging right on the curve of Buggy’s waist as he led them towards the breakfast table. “So sorry Buggy, I didn’t realise you were hungry...”

“Yeah yeah, just…stop touching me.” He was more or less used to the size of the spread in front of him. There were plates of familiar food, ones that he had tried before, and new ones from some foreign cuisine. This time he grabbed a stuffed bell pepper and plain pastry, digging around to find it stuffed with sausage, spinach and cheese.

Hatter was nowhere around again, Buggy never saw him again other than the first morning he arrived in the castle. He knew the blond must be around somewhere, probably having a life. But the lack of a third presence only highlighted the intimacy of their shared meals, with how Red insisted on fussing over his needs and ready to pour a new cup of drink every little twitch isted on being so clingy, and was starting to get on his nerves. 

“What do you have planned today?” Red asks a question Buggy stiffens at.

“Not sure.” There wasn’t much to do, despite the riches surrounding him. It was strange to admit, but he missed running away from the villagers he robbed. Lounging around all day had its appeal, but the shine was starting to rub off. Now, he just felt like a caged animal, agitated in its cage without much stimulation.

“So could we spend the whole day together?”

“I’d prefer looking for a way back.”

Amused, Red slammed the table as he threw his head back in boisterous laughter. “Come on , Buggy, we haven’t seen each other for so long.”

“We’ve seen each other plenty enough.”

“Aww, no way… You haven’t even seen the treasury like I promised you.” Really, the Queen knew where to hit him well. Buggy watched as the man dug into his loose robe, and definitely not watching his ample chest, to pull out a box. “But I got something just for you.”

He caught the velvet box with practised ease, too used to the bribes. It was a small thing this time, fitting into the crook of his right palm. A flick of his wrist opened the box to reveal a ring. The glittering red gemstone caught his attention first. Its gold band was shaped into a vine-like design, nestling each carat in a shape reminiscent of a butterfly. Like all the other treasures Red has given him, they felt…intimate. A groundless sentiment he wished to shake off. “Thanks.”

“And there’s a lot more where it came from.” It’s been his promise for weeks now.

Rolling his eyes, Buggy left the box untouched by his plate. “I think I’ve got enough to get me settled for a long time.”

“But you’d be settled for longer if you stay here longer .”

“It’s not like I’m an invalid, I could always make more…up there.”

He hears Red’s sigh loud and clear, tenseness winding in his shoulders. The smile on the Queen’s face was a facade for his stormier undercurrent. The other man was displeased as expected, the air around them getting thick. They’ve danced around the issue more and more often as Buggy’s own restlessness grew. “Yeah, I know but I just want to take care of you. Can’t I?”

Right…here came the tears. He looked away, subtly cringing. The other man continued to pout across him. No way, he can’t be soft hearted now. “You’ve taken care of me enough.”

“Well…we can talk about that later, at least?” A black vine languidly plucks out a silver pocket watch seemingly out of thin air. “The White Duchy members are due to drop by soon, for a croquet game.”

“You’re just bullshitting. No way they’re coming here without an earlier warning.”

Red only smiled, “Does it matter? Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Well…”

“Then it's settled then!”

He watched Red snap the watch shut, which disintegrated into powdery dust before it all faded away. Jaw creaking in annoyance, Buggy stabbed his fork through the meat. Metal screeched gratingly against porcelain to drive his point. “It really isn’t settled. You’re not listening to me.”

“Buggy…I am .”

“Yeah but you’re just ignoring what I said, right?”

The man’s silence settled heavily in his stomach. Buggy felt the sting of his palm before the ringing smack as it slammed against the table. Despite it, Red stayed cool, unflinching in the face of Buggy’s growing wrath. 

“Is it so wrong I just want you to stay?”

“I can’t stay here, Red,” he muttered. “I don’t belong here.”

“You can, I want you here.”

Buggy sighs, his mind replaying Nico Robin’s words. How much time did he have here before his poisoned lungs would say it's too late? Drumming his fingers against his knee, he wondered if Red’s selfishness was caused by the separation or if Buggy’s childhood memories had painted the man too perfectly.  “I can always visit.”

“But I don’t really get why you would prefer a place where you need to fight for scraps when you can just enjoy all these luxuries for the rest of your life?”

Because he didn’t want to die from Wonderland’s poison? Or was Red truly unaware of the effects it could have on outsiders? That and… “It’s part of the fun to get the scraps, rather than just to win the prize for nothing sometimes.”

A clatter, then silence. Buggy held his breath. Across him Red fiddles with the edge of his napkin. He didn’t look too upset, which gave Buggy hope that at least he hadn’t offended the supreme ruler of the whole land.

“Well if you like playing games, why don’t you say so?”

“That’s not what I–”

“We both want different things. Then let’s make it a game, Buggy. If you win you can go home, but you’ll stay if I win.”

If. Was Red confident with this gamble that he’s imposing such strict terms. The other man’s eyes glimmered, bright with excitement, challenging Buggy. Truthfully, he didn’t want to bet with such high stakes but it seemed like he had no other choice. Refusing to play would mean forfeiting his chance to leave this place seeing the tight reign Red has. “What’s the game?”

A slow smile tugged the man’s lips wide, looking like a cat that just swallowed a golden canary whole. “You can leave once you guess my name.”

“Wha–” Blood drained away from his face, leaving Buggy as pale as the fixtures in the White Duchy.

“At first I thought you really liked nicknames now,” Red the Queen of Hearts tutted. “But something felt off. Well, I’m right aren’t I? Don’t you think it’s selfish to want to go home if we haven’t caught up enough yet?”

“How are you this fucking petty, I remember you .”

“Yeah, but not everything about me, if you can’t even remember my name. Are you sure you really remember who I am, Buggy?”

Red wasn’t wrong, he really hadn’t recalled everything about Wonderland. Even then he’s starting to doubt the gentle boy in his memories. He wracked through his brains, replaying the Queen’s words over and over, trying to find a loophole he could negotiate his way through. “How many chances am I allowed?”

“Three tries.”

“Only three?”

Red shrugged, “You don’t have to use up your guesses all at once. You could guess now, tomorrow, anytime, anyday. You could always wait and waive your guesses. Meanwhile, you’ll stay here for as many days as it takes for you to remember.” His words trailed off into a chuckle. “I’ll be happy if it’ll take you forever.”

Buggy doesn’t have forever. But he also had no other choice.

Chapter Text

Croquet, for a lack of a better word, is a flashy but fucking boring pastime.

Or maybe he’s just a sore loser. Which should be fair if you’re playing with crazy fucks who liked to cheat, make up some new bullshit rules, and living flamingo mallets trying to peck you to death.

Three hits in and he’s had enough. The flamingo mallet squawked, indignant as Buggy grabbed it by its neck to toss aside. He screamed as the animal dove in for revenge, rabid clicking of its beak chasing to tear into his flesh. Buggy’s furious screams drew laughter from the field spectators as he sprinted through the grass, stumbling into the Spectator’s Zone where a disgruntled Law greeted him with a cool stare.

“Clown.”

“Huh,” he hummed without missing a beat. “You’re as bad as that cat that teased you. Glad to see someone worse than me.”

The dark haired man bristled, the grip around his sword tightening. Buggy kept his gaze subtly trained on Law as he settled on the sunlounger, stiff rattan digging into the skin of his back as he tried to get comfy. They had a clear view of the field from where they sat, of the Queen of Hearts and the White Duchess, the final two players left on the field. Ever present on the latter’s shoulder was the Duchess' backseat player, “Doffy” the Cat, yowling out incessant play strategies left ignored.  

“You’re not hitting it at the right angle!”

“Doffy– stop controlling the mallets, I doubt the Queen’s retainers would appreciate it if he gets hurt.”

“It’s just a bit of rabies, he’ll live. Probably.”

“Please stop admitting your assasination plans in public.”

“What the fuck,” Buggy muttered. “Those shitty birds really were trying to kill me.”

“All in good fun,” Law drawled out. “Just to keep the game lively.”

“I can’t imagine why. It gets boring down here.”

His conversational partner’s reply was a dismissive hum as he tipped back a frighteningly pungent cocktail glass. How friendly. Frustrated, Buggy turned to grab his own drink, choking back the infused rum as quickly as he could. If he gets blackout drunk, the godforsaken game would hopefully be over in a blink.

Flamingo caws precluded Red’s laughter, the din ringing in his ear with each hit. It was hard to gauge if he was winning or losing when the Cat hissed so many profanities that could make the hardiest of sailors blush. Above them, the sunny weather watched on, peeking once in a while from between fluffy clouds.

Even for an introvert, Nico Robin would be a better companion. At least the woman had  knowledge to share, knowledge that might lead to his escape from this weird place. This was boring, and there weren’t enough clouds in the sky for him to count. Rolling his neck, he turned his glance at Law.

“No.”

A vein twitched in his temple, “I haven’t even said anything yet you fucking brat.”

“I’m not in the mood to listen to some old fart asking stupid questions.”

“Shitty…brat.” A quick glance towards the field and the two nobles and cat still seemed distracted. Discreetly he stretched his leg out, slamming his heel onto Law’s lounging chair. The resulting choked groan was enough revenge.

“Shitty old fart…”

“Which gutter did Corazon pick you up from anyway? Never thought he was the motherly type.”

“That’s none of your business. You weren’t around for the last two decades anyway.”

“Yeah I wasn’t.” A memory flits by his mind, of Red standing tall, right on the cusp of adulthood. “We were about your age the last time I was around.”

Law scoffed, “hard to imagine Cora-san hanging out with a loser like you.”

“You don’t have to hurt yourself to imagine things. It happened.” Amused, Buggy watched his face contort between disgust and uncertainty.

“Horrifying.”

“Why are you so weirded out by it? Everyone’s got a childhood of some sorts.”

He twisted in his seat, shifting to various positions as he sipped on a glass of what smelled like whiskey. “Don’t get me wrong. Everyone has a childhood. It doesn’t mean I’m used to imagining old people having one.”

A hit, a laugh, a screech. Someone scored but Buggy doesn’t care enough to see who it was.

Law sighs, “Or perhaps it’s similar to all this. Except you all probably look like distorted shorties. Your nose is definitely as obnoxious though.”

“Shut the fuck up before I find a way to slit your throat.”

The other man scoffed at his declaration. “As much as The Queen of Hearts favours you, good luck even breathing at me the wrong way. I’ll slice you up.”

“Slice me up? You’ll get mommy to do it.”

“Same thing.”

Their awful attempt at conversation slowly tapered off into a slow lull. The weather continued its pleasant hum, a cool breeze blowing their way once in a while waving their feverish sweats away. Buggy watches the pink blur flit around the field, the cotton candy coloured cat bounding in the air as it twisted its body to humanly impossible shapes. Standing in the center of the chaos was Red, proud and tall in his garb of red and black, dodging each swipe of the furious cat’s claws.

“Doflamingo’s not as creepy now that he’s a cat.” Buggy mutters, loud enough as an invitation for the other man to jump back into a conversation.

“You’ve seen Doflamingo as–Nevermind…” Hook. Line. Sinker. Law shook his head. “What was he like back then?”

“Same as he is now. Except he didn’t look like a long furry worm taller than Corazon but with an uglier smile.’

“Again. That’s really horrifying.” 

He agreed with the sentiment. “Yeah, he mellowed.” Buggy glances at law, “Why? He not around when you’re young?”

A sharp breath, an attempt to warn Buggy to not step over his line. Still… “you could say that.  He and Cora-san weren’t exactly happy back then.”

There was an interesting note to catch on, “Which gutter did he pick you up from again?”

If the crass words offended him, Law didn’t show it beyond a subtle twitch tugging his expression downwards. “Technically he found me in the forest after the last hospital kicked me out for having amber lead syndrome."

…Hospital? "So you weren't born in Wonderland?" To be fair, Buggy didn’t think he explored the land enough to see one, but the concept felt foreign enough to exist in wonderland. Something more traditional and home-based would fit more here.

"No. I arrived here when I was eight."

“–Oh.” That’s the second time he’s heard of an outsider like him choosing to stay in this weird place. “...So you know Nico Robin?”

Law’s gaze turned pensive. “In a way. Don’t think I’m someone close to her.”

“Mmh. You two are way…too different.” 

“Hmph…Even if she claims herself as a historian, Nico Robin would never understand what the war ever meant to Wonderland.”

War. He repeats it over and over. The word tasted foreign on his tongue. “She still sounded like she knew a lot.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Sounds like what?”

Fuck–dammit . “You need to stop doing that.” He barely suppressed a flinch at Red’s voice in his ear, coming from behind him. A tilt of his neck revealed the man’s inquisitive smile and dark eyes, jealousy practically rolling off him in waves.

“But I was getting bored.”

“After what?” A quick glance at the scoreboard… “Five games, now you’re finally bored?”

“Because you weren’t paying attention, yeah.”

Duchess Corazon continued playing across them, racking up points now that they didn’t have anyone to play against. Doflamingo’s laughter sounded hysterical, even if the whole thing was basically foul play.

“You know you’re going to lose, right?” He commented drily, noting how Law blocked them out from interacting with a tip of his hat lower. 

Red shrugged. “It’s just a friendly game anyway.” Giving Law a throwaway glance, he hummed cheerfully as his gaze focused on Buggy again. The attention was far too heavy, and it was no surprise to see him start squirming.

He watched closely as Red shifted, hand rummaging under his embroidered half-cape to pull out a velvet pouch. Instinctively his own arm moves, meeting Red’s halfway as he receives the gift with open palms. It was as big as his fist, and lighter than he expected. The pouch felt smooth in his grip, uncut and unridged, with no telltale rustling of metallic chains; it wasn’t jewellery. Opening gifts in front of their givers was undoubtedly rude, but Red’s behaviour suggested otherwise. He wanted Buggy to open it, wanted to be praised for the gift. 

Well, he wasn’t one to stick to etiquette either. Undoing the knot in the drawstring, velvet cloth sliding open to reveal an array of glistening colours peeking through a greyish stone with the tiniest shift of light. “What the fuck?”

The question slipped out before he could stop himself. Red doesn’t seem to mind though, taking in Buggy’s baffled expression with a smile as bright as the stone in his hands.

“It’s a black opal.” That wasn’t what Buggy meant, but fair enough he hadn’t known what it was. “You’ve never seen it before, right?”

He’s never even heard of it. It’s that rare huh?

Red laughed, his hand moving up to where it had lingered on Buggy’s wrist to brush against chin. His thumb, gloved in silk black pressed against Buggy’s lip, tracing the inadvertent smile he has. Taking advantage of his still frozen state, the taller man leaned in to press a loud wet kiss on Buggy’s cheek. “You’re so precious!”

The flush burns him. Rage clawed out of his throat as he shoved Red away, screaming profanities similar to how Doflamingo did. If his words were garbled and strained, no one commented. Law was nowhere to be found, and fuck knows where the Duchess and his cat went. He flipped the noble off, clutching the opal to his chest. “How dare you–!”

“Aww, don’t be shy.”

“I’m not shy!” He’s embarrassed, there’s a difference. It doesn’t matter if it all ended up with his voice rising two octaves higher, the distinction was important. It didn’t seem Red bothered to listen though (like always), who beckoned him closer. He tried to run, really, tried to dodge the embrace the taller man was trying to slide him into. But something tightened around his ankle and Buggy barely saw a flash of something dark before he tripped backwards. And then of course, Red caught him, strong arm firmly placed around his waist. The flutter in his heart left him feeling helpless under the other man’s stare roaming across his body. 

“Careful,” Red murmured. He was gentle as he righted Buggy to stand properly, serious and polite as his grip never strayed to anything that would be deemed improper. “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“Y-yeah…thanks.”

The great Queen gave him a small smile, and stepped away. His palm rotates upward, waiting patiently at Buggy’s hesitation.

And how could he refuse? Gingerly, he pressed his own hand against the gloved one, the brush of silk against his own skin overwhelming. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. It wasn’t because of the shock of Red’s affection, he’s known about it already. It was the depth of it, seemingly all encompassing and rose tinted. 

“Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

—

The members of the White Duchy had apparently deemed the game concluded, already starting themselves on the hosted luncheon. The sight didn’t seem to bother Red, which fair enough, should be excusable as it was a buffet style instead of a formal course.

 “Anything catch your eye?”

He shook his head, focused on other things than the food. While the feast smelled extravagant as always, yes. But for once the throne hall didn’t look too dreary, decorated with the bright banners of the Queen of Hearts’ royal colours and crest. A quartet livened up the mood in a tangle of notes of plucked strings, whistling lutes, deep brass, and ivory keys. Dancing, drinking, laughter. The castle felt welcoming, joyful, alive .

There were other guests that hadn’t been present at the private game, Buggy nervously eyed the Tweedle brothers gorging through a suckling pig in various levels of etiquette. But beyond that, Nico Robin was taking bites of dainty tea sandwiches, chatting with a redhead wearing the sharpest starched shirt he’s ever seen. He thought he vaguely saw other familiar faces, ones from a distant past, but it was difficult to find out when Red kept him close.

“There’s some veal roulade over there, and more of the bratwurst you liked last time.”

Yeah that sounded good. He followed his gaze to where the other man gestured with a tilt of his head, grateful for the opportunity to untangle their hands and widen their distance. Buggy didn’t bother looking back to check if the other man followed him, wary the gesture might be taken as an invitation for Red to cross more limits of his personal privacy.

He breathed a sigh caught in his throat when he realised he was alone, the Queen whisked away into more important discussions by his retainers. Buggy kept to himself at an empty spot near one of the long buffet tables, despite the open balcony right next to the other end. Like the others, he chose to give Crocodile and his conversation partner a wide berth, seeing how both men were fogging up the corner with alarming amounts of smoke, lest the stench of their cigars could ruin their meals. It was funny to see them fade in and out of view whenever the grey smoke thinned ever so slightly, their mirroring grimaces ever present that left Buggy wondering what exactly they might be discussing.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Buggy took a deep, long sigh, exhaling slowly to make his point. Was everyone here trying to induce a heart attack out of him? It wasn’t Red this time though, he knew that much. The voice was much softer, gentler, yet devoid of any form of interest whatever his answer may be. He turned to see a pair of long legs draped in white and twisted his neck higher to meet a face that’s been making themself scarce all this time.

“Oh, are we talking now?”

Whether the Duchess Corazon took his tone as an offence or not was unclear, hiding the most miniscule twitches of it with his ever-exaggerated makeup. The ever present black feather coat over on his shoulders shifted slightly, disentangling some blue rose petals onto the floor.

“It’s good to see you again, Buggy.” Well, it didn’t sound like it. Though it didn’t sound like he meant the opposite either. “I do apologise for not recognising you sooner. Perhaps we could blame the hairstyle change.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve changed too.” He wildly gestures at the whole ensemble, particularly at the sapphire brooch pinned to the centre of Corazon’s cravat. “Grew up looking all flashy now. And you’re not snivelling behind your brother anymore.”

Duchess Corazon’s expression finally cracked, his smile widening as the noble turned to give the room around them a lazy flick. His stare lingered at the sight of Doflamingo perched on Law’s shoulder trying to shove his snout into a champagne flute, long tongue lapping at the bubbly liquor. “Well, things had to change.”

“That’s what I’m missing out on, apparently. I don’t know what the fuck’s been going on. Trust me, I just realised that Cat’s your sleazy brother.” Corazon sucked in a sharp breath. Buggy stabbed his fork deeper into the sausage as if to make a point, shovelling the last bite of marinated veal into his mouth as he kept his gaze trained at the taller man. “Like, I didn’t know when you decided to be all mature and pick up a kid.”

“I’m not the only one who did that. You’ve met Luffy?”

That made him snort, “Luffy? He’s Red’s adopted brat?”

Corazon paused, searching for something in Buggy’s expression, with the way his brows furrowed for a split second before his whole face evened out again into stone. “Yes…That’s him.”

“Fucker showed up as a rabbit and tried to eat me.” Conveniently, he left out the fact he tried to roast the guy first but eh…that’s an unimportant detail anyway. It’s funnier too, the way Corazon’s eyebrows flew up so high.

“I see.” Despite the now-obvious facade of indifference, Corazon was a poor actor. His expression pinched into uncertainty as he continued to stare at Buggy, as if he was expecting something from him. 

He held his breath under the scrutiny, lost as he tried to come up with a random conversation topic. Buggy knew he was lacking a lot in the memory department, and he doesn’t remember how he usually acted with the people that used to be his childhood friends. Everything came in unexpected bursts and flashes as he spoke, like being reminded how salty seawater is only when you’ve tasted it. “So…”

The word trailed off, swallowed by an especially loud cheer as the quartet’s music climbed to a crescendo. Corazon blinked as he stared at his own glass of wine, particularly at the lipstick stain he kissed onto the rim. But he wasn’t moving away, his gaze focused and unglazed, once again never indicating whether or not he had been paying attention to Buggy.

“So,” Buggy tried again. “I’ve always thought Doflamingo’s the same species as the mallets we used. How did he turn into your lap warmer?”

“Careful, if he hears you saying that, he’d shred your tongue out. With or without the Queen of Heart’s protection.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your brother is a mean bitch.” He knew he was being rude, and it might have some repercussions. But it’s just Corazon he’s talking to, and right now, the guy’s smiling. Buggy’s not too sure though, the makeup made it difficult to gauge. Or maybe it’s the amount of fatty meat he’s been shovelling in his mouth that’s making Buggy feel lightheaded. “I’m not helpless without Red you know.”

“And I’m not helpless without Doffy.” He shifted his coat again and Buggy watched as enough of those blue roses fell off to make a shitty bouquet. “See you around, Buggy.”

“Wait– Rosinante.” The name was enough to make the man pause, stiffening mid step as he whirled back to fully face Buggy. His indifference was gone in that split second, reminding Buggy of the full-fledged noble he is, ready to strike Buggy for the sin of speaking his name so casually. Well, fuck there goes whatever familiarity he thought he had with the Duchess. In fact, the man before him now resembled his own brother’s behaviour.

“You…”

“I wanted to ask Red’s name.” Buggy sputtered out as quickly as he could. “He’s being an ass teasing me for not remembering. And yeah, I sound like a dick. Excuse me for using your name too but– could you tell me? I feel bad.”

Corazon sucked in a breath, “No.”

“No?”

“Of course you could say my name, Buggy.” Corazon’s voice fell softer this time. He appeared to be hesitating, gaze wildly flickering around as he tested words in his mind. No matter, Buggy was willing to wait through each hmms and uhmms as the noble struggled to vocalise his answer. Until finally… Corazon’s lips tugged into a shy smile. “You’re…a friend. Just don’t let Doffy hear you say it. You remember he’s a stickler for etiquette and all that.”

“You’re right,” he nodded. Now these were the parts of Donquixote Rosinante he’s familiar with. Shy yet kind, hiding away his golden heart under his brother’s iron fist. “So could you tell me his name?”

But the man’s gaze had shifted, looking beyond Buggy’s shoulders as a sinking feeling welled up his chest. He stiffened when Corazon’s head tipped low in greeting, stepping backwards to give space to the only noble who outranked him. He grit his teeth, by now unsurprised at the sudden appearance. “Red.”

Unbothered by the way Buggy spat his name like a curse, he waved genially at the Duchess in greeting. “Couldn’t help but hear something interesting. Sorry Cora, we’re having a bet so you’re not allowed to let him cheat.”

“I wasn’t cheating,” Buggy snapped. Then lowering his voice as he realised people were throwing them curious glances, “It wasn’t a rule before.”

“That’s my mistake, one that I’m fixing now.” And Red smiled, in a way that drove a knife into Buggy’s guts and twisted . His tone chiding, shaming, as if Buggy was a child needed to be talked down to. The queen’s gloved hand comes up to benevolently pat Buggy’s cheek, gentle despite the finality of his tone. “From now on you’re not allowed to ask anyone directly for my name, alright?”

“Fine.”

“You understand, that’s great.” Why the fuck did Red need to sound so relieved. Buggy’s never felt so small before. “But I think you still need some kind of punishment.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hissed out, hands shooting out to clutch desperately at the hems of Red’s half-cape. He voiced no protest as Red pushed him gently, guiding them behind a column and away from any potential spectators. Desperately, he searched for the usual mirth in the taller man’s face. It was there, the ever present lazy smile was familiar, but there was a darkness swirling within his gaze that wasn’t. Buggy shivered, faltering slightly. “You…You’re serious.”

“Don’t look so shocked,” the Queen murmured. The hand patting Buggy’s cheek stayed, tracing fleeting shapes lovingly. Black vines lazily twisted from under his cape with a hiss, the tendril winding tightly around Buggy’s waist to pull him closer and keep him still. “You cheated. Are you so desperate to leave me?”

“No…I was just asking him because I thought I’d remember more about this place.” It was bullshit and they knew it. “Even if I leave, I could always come back here?”

Wrong answer. The thick vine snapped tighter, choking the breath out of him.

“Either way you’re being punished. I’m taking one of the three guesses now.”

“What?”

“You can choose to forfeit it, or you can guess my name right now. The choice is yours.” The hand on Buggy’s cheek moved to cup the nape of his neck, long fingers pressing upwards. Halfway, Red leaned in to press their foreheads together, revelling in their closeness as he waited for his answer.

The scent of Red’s cologne was memorable, spice and smoke blended with the most precious ambergris that left him dizzy. Their distance was easy for Buggy to hear the hitch in the other man’s breath and the thrum of Red’s heart where their chests were pressed together. Getting out of the tight grip proved impossible as well, the heavy vine refusing to budge and only threatened to dig bruises into his skin.

He slumped with a huff, lightly slamming his own skull to Red’s and wincing when he hurt himself instead. At least…he technically has the chance to guess, he just had to do it now, without any preparation or research. But on the off chance he says the right name, he’ll be free to leave. Sighing, he tentatively whispered the first name that appeared in his mind. “Peter.”

Warily, he watched as Red sucked in a breath, eyes sliding shut. His head falls, face burying into the crook of Buggy’s neck. The shorter man yelped at the sharp pinch of teeth biting in. It’s overwhelming, he doesn’t know whether to punch the noble for doing that, or for the warm hand quickly sliding lower to rest at the small of his back. “H-hey…Peter? Red? Did I get it right?”

A chuckle, a sigh. Red pressed an apologetic kiss onto the spot. He sounded too damn happy which meant…

“No, you didn’t get it right, Buggy.”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

“Any guesses today?”

“No,” Buggy mumbled instantly, too used to this song and dance to pay proper attention to the Queen’s presence. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

Red shrugged, “Morning court is over.”

That got him interested, the page of his novel half-turned as he finally looked up from it. Thankfully, for Buggy’s poor heart, Red stood at a respectable distance, still wearing his heavy cape; the one reserved for formal functions and morning courts. There was a heaviness weighing on him, an obvious furrow in his brow. “What’s with you?”

Wrong move. The Queen’s sullen pout vanished almost instantly, a bright grin blooming as he leaned closer. “Are you worried about me?”

Buggy smacked his palm onto Red’s chin, pushing him away with a click of his tongue. “Not really.”

“My, aren’t you being cruel?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing some other royal duties instead of bothering an unimportant guest who wants to be alone?”

He watched as Red huffed, dramatically flailing onto the empty side of the reading nook. He ignored the kick aimed at his face without a single flinch as he tilted his head, the heel of Buggy’s foot landing on the hollow of his collarbone. Perhaps the effect proved the same, the man staying still even as Buggy pressed on deeper. Still nothing. Unimpressed but convinced, he huffed and lifted his foot away, fully intent on focusing back on his reading material.  

Buggy yelped when he found himself yanked forwards, belatedly realising the warm heat wrapped around his ankle. His head bounced against firm pillows, his vision shifting to the rainbow mosaic of the stained glass ceiling. The dying ember of annoyance flickered into fiery rage, “are you fucking kidding me?”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m busy! Bother me later–” his breath caught at the shimmering swirls of the ochre-blushed pearl between Red’s fingers.

“I found something that you’d like,” Red puffed his chest proudly as he rested his chin on the curve of Buggy’s ankle. He didn’t seem to mind the position, as if the sole of Buggy’s shoes weren’t dirtying his cape. “Have you ever heard of pearls growing from sea-snails instead of oysters?”

“No…” he admitted, awed. Without meaning to, he had already reached out. The pearl was a perfect sphere, without a single dimple of imperfection. Like most of Red’s gifts, the precious mineral is quite sizable, as large as the tip of his index finger. Red lets the gift roll into his waiting palm and upon closer inspection, Buggy could see the milky yellow and darker orange swirls, reminiscent of a sea snail’s shell where it must have originated from. “It’s beautiful…”

“I know it’s not as…flashy as the others,” and oh did the Queen look so abashed. “But I hope you like it all the same.”

“I do,” Buggy interjected. What else was he supposed to do? In the end, he hated seeing Red look so upset. Red had always been as bright as the sun, both his smile and his soul, and Buggy would be a sinner to dim his shine. “It’s a perfect size for a necklace or something.”

“You’d like to wear it as one?”

“No. Pearls don’t suit me.” And he doesn’t really like wearing any jewellery, he just loves collecting them. His mind trails off into the pile of loose gemstones and necklaces hastily thrown into an empty wooden chest lounging in his room. Buggy visualised the stuff he’s been collecting for years , the pile left in that rabbit warren that suddenly became his gateway to this place. Perhaps when Red finally lets him leave, he’ll be able to buy the whole island, maybe even force the people to play in his circus. A wicked grin stretched across his face as he imagined the throngs of people wearing all types of silly costumes and springing into flashy acts, just to amuse him.

“I see. We’ll just have to find something that does suit you then.”

“Huh?” He glanced back as Red, blinking at how close the other man was. Finally, finally, he remembered the position they were in. Inappropriate, and–where the heck was Red’s hand resting?? “Get your hand OFF me!”

He untangled himself without waiting for a reply, tumbling alone onto the floor with a loud whack of his elbow. It hurt, but he escaped just in time. Black tendrils flicked lazily, curling around the space where he had sat moments ago. Red huffed, reaching out his arm for the other man to take. But Buggy’s mood had plummeted too far. Smacking the offered hand away, he pushed himself to stand and showed the Queen a rude gesture before storming off. 

“Aw, don’t leave me!”

“You’re too annoying!” Buggy yelped as a harsh yank around his ankles nearly had him falling flat on his face. The same black tendrils he’d seen oozing out of Red’s missing arm were now trapping him in place. A vein throbbed through the side of his temple as his anger flared out, “You–!”

“Don’t leave me.” 

Being the Queen’s guest really allowed Buggy to get away with a lot with the ‘rude’ way he’d been treating Red. So he should really exercise more caution. That didn’t mean his urge to suddenly smack the noble’s head with the sharp edge of his book’s spine could easily melt away though. He tugged at the bindings, wincing when the bonds tightened to the edge of pain.

“Red,” Buggy warned. “It hurts, let go.”

Like a magic spell, the vines shrivelled away. Red had paled considerably, enough for Buggy to want to reach out but he forced himself to stay still . Because something in him whispered that he shouldn’t reach out, because that would be an invitation for Red to misunderstand. So he stood his ground, eyes narrowed and head tilted as he stared disapprovingly at the other man. Flipping the stray hairs of his loose ponytail from his shoulders, he smacked the book idly against his thigh as his confidence grew. The Queen listens to him. “I want to be left alone.”

“Okay,” the man whispered.

Buggy ignored how broken his tone sounded, “If you’re going to bother me you should just leave .”

Red’s gaze searched, pleaded, and hardened when he found that Buggy had no mercy to give. Buggy in a way, sympathised with him. It was…hard for Buggy to just let anyone in and Red’s insistence on crossing so many lines to break down Buggy’s walls wasn’t always pleasant. He wanted to allow himself to admit how much he missed Red (despite not remembering everything that happened between them) but he’s not a kid anymore. They’re both from different worlds, and Red has now grown into a full fledged Queen, ruling over the whole land and its denizens. One day, Red will grow tired of playing, and he’ll let Buggy leave the land. Because he’s got more things to focus on, and entertaining a foreign guest would only be a distraction.

(And when Buggy leaves, it’ll be with at least a chest full of treasure, enough to make him live in riches for the rest of his life. So really, they’re both winning.)

“Fine,” the Queen sighed after what felt like an agonising eternity. He kept his distance far and his face demure as he pushed past Buggy, black cape blanketing the span of his shoulders like a comforting hug where Buggy could not.

Buggy’s breath stuttered as the doors slammed shut behind the man, leaving him to heave as the tension in the air melted without the other man. The book in his hand squeaked as he tightened his grip, heel turning to march right back onto the reading nook he had previously occupied. The teacup waiting by the coffee table beside it had long cooled, killing along Buggy’s interest to sip on the drink. He’s tempted to ring for a replacement, but it felt rude when he’d just fought with the Master of the estate. 

He settled shifting himself to a more comfortable position, glaring through the window next to him that overlooked an expansive garden. If he squinted his eyes he could see a raised podium surrounded neatly trimmed hedges with specks of red which he guessed were roses. It wasn’t an area he’s too familiar with, and he filed away the direction of the window in his mind, fully intending to explore the place next time.

For now he opened his book back up and started the page anew where the protagonist was forced to leave because she fell in love–

“That was quite the argument.”

Buggy groaned, book snapping shut with a loud puff! He couldn’t muster enough emotion anymore at the sight of a chuckling Nico Robin garbed in a deep maroon tunic. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything, considering this is my usual haunt. Though I must really say that you’re quite brave to raise your voice like that. Even if you were his childhood friend, the Queen of Hearts is the ruler of this land.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Buggy sighed. He’s fully given up on the book now, setting it aside onto the coffee table. “I’m the one shocked here.”

“Well, I’ve come to hear about your bet with him. I must say it’s quite…cute, for the lack of a better word.”

“It’s not. Not when the stakes he’s put on aren’t exactly fair.”

Nico Robin hummed, her usual pensive expression in place. “He’s also forbidden anyone else to explicitly help you. By choice or accident.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Verbal mentions aren’t the only way to share information.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried. No one has the permission to write or mime his name to me.” He’s running out of ideas and down to two more guesses, a situation he isn’t too happy about despite the riches and delicacies he’s been experiencing. He doesn’t have any privacy, and he’s tired of tip-toeing around other people, worrying about overstaying his welcome. 

“But surely, there’s other ways to find existing information,” she tried again, her hands arching around in a grand gesture as multiple copies of her arms bloomed from the shelf racks to trace along book spines.

The implication clicked. He scrambled up, finding his own footing unstable once again as he nearly tipped too far forward before another of Nico Robin’s sprouted limb caught him. “There has to be a record of his name somewhere here.”

Nico Robin’s smile widened as she closed her eyes and disembodied copies of them blinked into view around the room. For another person, for another time, the sight would seem horrifying; but Buggy’s mind was too clouded on the taste of victory to even think that way. The woman has been nothing short of helpful too.

When her smile turned pinched though, that was when the bitter feeling clogging up the back of his throat returned. “What’s wrong?”

“It seems… I am unable to directly give you the information you need.” Nico Robin sighed, the furrow in her brows deepening. The sight of her powers still visible around the hall are Buggy’s only hope that she hadn’t given up. “Well it seems you’ll need to be the one telling me…the information you’d like to find, what form would you think it would be?”

“A book?” Wasn’t that obvious.

She shook her head, “No, not its physical form. The way the information should be presented.”

“A record…of his name…” When her expression twisted further he bit his lip. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy for her to help. They had to be more subtle, or the magic in Wonderland would sense her actions. If Red found out, he’d force Buggy to give up another guess. Well, as long as Red wouldn’t take away his given treasures it should be fine. 

“Names, a record of names…” He mulled. The only type of historical record that would have the information he needed could only be… “A family tree?”

A sigh of relief. They were on the right track, “So what you’re looking for is a history of recorded Wonderland rulers, am I right? That I can help with.” Her gaze was transfixed to a single direction, though her entire demeanour was unsettled.

He followed her stare towards the ceilings to briefly see a red blur fluttering. “Yeah.”

“Right, that’s something I can help with.”

Relieved, he squirmed impatiently in his seat as Nico Robin’s limbs passed on a yellowed scroll in a disembodied estafette until the heavy thing landed onto his waiting arms. It was heavier than expected, the thick parchment rustling as he struggled to unroll it open. His eyes flitted through the years and names, noting how at first, the inks scrawled across the paper varied in four colours: red; blue; green; and yellow. The oddities hadn’t stopped there, Wonderland’s calendar made it difficult to estimate how long exactly the land existed. 

It was a few good feet of parchment when the branch of names written in green ink ended, not even joining to another branch. Okay, as if the end of an entire specific bloodline on a historical record didn’t imply something horrifying . The list of names continued, some scrawls more illegible than others. He could sense Nico Robin taking a seat next to him, peering over his shoulder, her presence light enough to not flare his flight response. A reflex Red’s embarrassing touch-starved behaviour caused.

 “This,” he pointed to a set of names he recognised. One in yellow, one in blue. Both are crossed out in black ink. “Donquixote Doflamingo and Donquixote Rosinante.” His finger traced over the arcs and loops of the words. If those two are there, then Red’s name should be right next to it. All he found though was a black branch and a deep blotch of midnight-black ink viciously crossing out a completely unreadable name. As if someone had gone over it to ensure that Buggy wouldn’t find out their identity.

Coldness washed over him, a now-familiar anxiety bubbling in his gut. Nevertheless, he turned to Nico Robin. “It was worth a try. Thanks.”

Her gaze flicked between his defeated expression and the scroll in his arms before sighing deeply. She gathered the heavy thing in a single fluid movement to re-roll the thing neatly before her disembodied arms carefully carried it away. “I apologise for not being able to help you further.”

“You didn’t have to in the first place,” he shrugged. “Why did you anyway.”

“Admittedly, it wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart. I was just curious about the truth behind the fall of the Old Kingdoms and the rise of the Queen of Hearts.”

Right, the Queen of Hearts. Red, the man who ruled above all. Red, was now crowned Queen while the other Queens no longer had a throne to sit on. He thought of Doflamingo, the oldest and strongest of the three as he remembered, now a pet in Duchess Rosi’s lap. Buggy sighed, pressing his face into a pillow.

The cushion next to him shifted and the click of Nico Robin’s heels slowly grew distant. It wasn’t until he heard the dull bang of the library doors shutting did he started screaming into his pillow.

Fuck!

Chapter Text

“I know just the thing to cheer you up.”

“And what is that?”

“Come,” Red grinned up at him, teasingly pulling at the sleeve of his loose shirt. He only whined as Buggy pulled away grumpily, turning back to the peony bush he was observing. The red shade of its petal was nearly as vivid as the Queen’s, whose boyish behaviour still continued to get some attention.

“Oh fine, let’s go do whatever you want.” Buggy rolled his eyes as he allowed himself to be tugged away from his peaceful flower-viewing and back towards the castle. “Whatever this is, it better be interesting.”

“You’ll like it,” the man promised. He led them both upwards, higher and higher, towards the east wing where Buggy had never ventured towards. Red hummed under his breath along the way, that favourite shanty of his. The one Buggy had taught him once when they were still young.

If Red’s hand slowly trailed lower to slot themselves into Buggy’s, they both said nothing about it. He was afraid of ruining the moment. Instead he grasped the hand tighter. Held on to every word Red sung, the way his vibrato echoed in the empty hallway. Relished every bit of warmth covering him.

Buggy wished he didn’t need to let go. 

The door he’s led to looked much more brusque in nature, so much so that it was intimidating to take in. Unlike the rest of the castle, this door was built of steel and devoid of any decorations, save for the myriad of locks dangling across it. “What’s this about then?” 

A few black tendrils shot out of the ground, spreading into branches as each one slid into the many locks. Each one clicking open in near synchrony, falling onto the ground like apples on harvest. Red winked as the door opened, and Buggy gasped as his vision exploded with all the colours of the rainbow. Statues, paintings, marble stands displaying all kinds of royal treasures. A featherlight touch on the small of his back pushed him forward and he’s left to explore for himself. 

“Is this…?”

“The whole treasury, yes.” Red hummed, tracing a golden stitch on a tapestry depicting a garden of swans.

Obviously Buggy’s more into the shiny things, wasting no time pressing himself up against the displays. Distantly he’s reminded of the tunnel of floating items, with the amount of stuff that’s just in the room. But this was different, the freshly lacquered wood, the uncracked surfaces of these gems, the polished shine of gold helmets. “It’s beautiful.”

“You can keep what you want, sky’s the limit.”

“The sky and my hands.”

“Well, you could always just point to whatever you want and I’ll have them brought to your room. When you wake up, it’ll be a good day for you to see them first thing in the morning.”

Buggy laughed, “you really know me huh?”

“Of course, it’d be harder to not notice.” He gestured to the whole room, “I won’t lie most of these were collected with you in mind.”

“You’re kidding,” he snorted. “This is a royal treasury. Most of these were definitely here before you were.”

Red looked away with a sheepish grin, ducking under that tapestry he had been fiddling with. “Maybe.”

Amused, Buggy dove towards it, wrapping his arms around the Queen in all intents to tackle the guy. When his nose slammed against a wall of muscle instead though, he grunted. Fuck, the guy wasn’t this…thick before. “You’re heavy.”

“My turn.”

That was his only warning before the heavy chest pushed him backward and an arm settled on the back of his thigh. He’s lifted up without much fancies, his panicked shrieking trilling into the air. Buggy squirmed and coughed when he got a lungful of Red’s cologne instead. Digging his elbow into the guy’s side, they tumbled onto the ground in a mess of limbs. He kept laughing even as he’s pushed onto his side, even as an arm slung over his waist. “Fuck, get off me.”

“Don’t want to,” Red whined because of course that’s what he always does.

They hadn’t been this close since they were kids, and Buggy’s a lost orphan desperate for comfort. Perhaps he still was one these days. Not the lost part, lonely. He pressed his head backward and let himself breathe in Red’s presence, melting into the one thing he’s been silently craving all this time. If half his heart thrummed with guilt, he said nothing. But the man himself must have known, just drawing him closer to a hug tight enough for his bones to creak. 

“I’ve never really thanked you before for welcoming me here.”

“I’m always glad to see you.”

“You’re just glad someone could finally be your croquet partner playing against the Donquixotes.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

He smiled, shrugging the heavy arm off him. Even if he’s desperate to cling tight, he knows he couldn’t. Instead Buggy looked around the room, trying to find the brightest thing in this room that wasn’t Red’s damn smile. That dainty tiara with a single citrine that looked like a drop of crystallised sunlight is a close one, but not quite.

It was a dull brown that did though, an old splintered door on its last breath. Now that reminded Buggy of that rabbithole of rickety things. Pushing himself up, he moved towards it to observe it closer, only to have a tight hand clamping around his wrist tugging him backwards. “What?”

“Don’t.”

“Oh, another one of your secrets then?” Buggy’s tone was jovial, but any humour slowly slipped off his face as Red’s face darkened.

“No. I just…want to keep you safe.” His arm was a vice-like grip that wouldn’t let go. Once more he pulled Buggy away, frowning when the man wouldn’t move. “Buggy…”

“Stop patronising me like that,” he blurted out as he wrenched his arm away. “And I can walk by myself.” Feelings ruined and the bitterness lingering in the tip of his tongue, he pushed past the Queen. Maybe he was being overdramatic, maybe he should have just shut up and smiled. 

“No, you don’t get it,” Red’s tone softened. When Buggy refused to move, he made to step closer, brushing against pouty cheek. “Hey, don’t let this ruin your day. You could still pick out whatever you want.”

“As long as I obey your rules, right?”

“I–”

“Look,” he flashed Red a reassuring look. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up but…I don’t think I want anything here.” He doesn’t know what’s wrong, or why he felt this way. Untrustworthy, or unworthy. Another untold secret he wasn’t allowed to be privy to. Even the marvels around him only made Buggy feel…ugly. Like he was some greedy peasant who wants it all. “Can I leave?”

“Of course but…Buggy, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just…gonna go.” Grateful for the excuse, he refused to look at Red’s face as he turned away, but he hoped the weak smile he gave was enough to hide how upset he felt. “See you later, Red.”

Chapter Text

He doesn’t know how things went too far south. 

He didn’t mean for things to go too far south.

“I don’t understand, is there anything you’ve lacked while you’re here?” Red huffed, “Have I not given you everything?”

Buggy sighed for what’s already been the umpteenth time, frustrated as he fought off the urge to slam his head onto the dining table over and over, just to be done with it. No matter what he says, the other man just wouldn’t understand his impatience. “It’s not you, it's me.”

“Then why…?” The Queen shot back, his back straightening. “Why are you restless?”

“What do you think? Is it that hard for you to understand I just want to go back?”

“Where to? What do you have there that’s much more meaningful than what you could have here?”

It was an argument that he’s too familiar with, having repeated similar ‘conversations’ with Red almost every time they sat down to have a meal. And every time Red would ask that question and Buggy would falter. That was something he couldn’t answer either. Red was right, he would be much happier here. But that didn’t make him happy, if anything it was the reason he needed to leave Wonderland.

He’s an outsider after all, a thief with no right for his dirty, greedy paws to smear themselves all over the best of what the place had to offer, their Queen especially. He has to leave, before he taints Red with his useless presence. Or before he finds out more about Red than he meant to. Buggy kept his gaze downcast, avoiding the glint of Red’s signet ring, “why does it matter to you what I do? It’s not like you know what my life is like when I’ve been perfectly fine living without you for years now.”

bang!

“Well,” Buggy shrugged. “If you’re just going to start slamming things around, then I guess you’re not in the mood to listen . I’m fucking leaving.”

He rushed out of the room as fast as he could, wary of the dark vines Red could summon to block his way. Distantly, his ears rang as Red called out his name, desperate and pained before a domino of crashing porcelain followed. Buggy refused to slow down, ignoring even the twinge in his chest and the blur of his vision before he scrubbed it all away with a harsh swipe of his sleeve.

The hallways closed in around him, an endless maze as he walked in circles just to keep moving. Portraits of strangers looked upon him like spies. The library was no longer a haven, nor was his own room.

Nowhere, if Red knew he’d hide there, was safe.

Buggy stomped towards the garden, waistcoat fluttering behind him as strong winds howled at his approach. He twisted his neck, spotting the intricate circular window he recognized as the library window he looked out from last time. There should be a path that led straight to some podium of sorts, but all he could see were walls of tightly woven rose shrubs with no way out.

Swatting a stray blue butterfly away from his face, he traced the garden’s edge until he met the bricks on either side. He could smell the earthy petrichor of the incoming rain, and the sweat running down his neck from how humid it is. It was enough to tempt him to return to the castle, to ring the bell and request some warm drink be brewed for him while he counts the stack of treasures in his chest. A few weeks was all it took apparently, for him to bitch about being the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Nevertheless he pushed on, the memory of Red’s cold gaze as he slammed the table spurring him to keep on searching. There has to be some way to access the path, he just had to keep his eyes open. Perhaps it was that notch on a brick he needed to press, or some underground pathway he missed. Buggy crouched at the sight of a curved stem, grinning when he saw exactly what he was looking for.

It wasn’t an arch, nor pathway, but Buggy noted the strange way the plants grew. Between two bushes was a separation, the stems curving towards the opposite direction. He tested the give, grunting as he needed both arms to struggle against the weight of the plants . Eventually he created enough of a wedge to squeeze into. Damage was unavoidable, thorns scraping against his forearms and digging into his shirt.

Grunting, he stumbled his way onto the other side, his nose nearly smashed flat as he narrowly managed to break his fall. Thunder growled in the distance behind him. Buggy quickly pushed himself up to see if he could hear anyone else, if he could hear Red. Nothing.

He looked around what seemed to be an empty plaza, dominated by Ionic pillars made black-veined marble. They loomed over him, and if he squinted at the carved volute, he could see the vague shapes reminding him of Red’s coat of arms.

“Hello?” He called out hesitantly, suddenly feeling small. Only the whistle of the oncoming storm spoke back to him, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting. He tapped his heel against the floor, it was hard to imagine the area’s purpose with no other building or structure around to clue him in. Buggy frowned as he approached a marble column. It was covered in several types of moss and lichen growing between its grooves and cracks, the elements wearing most of the detailing down to bare shapes.

Buggy winced as a centipede crawled across the column, jumping away to distance himself from the thing. Even as the insect scuttled harmlessly, its size, as long as Buggy’s forearms and as wide as half of it, was unnerving to see. Disgusted, he stepped away and continued his path down the empty plaza.

The rest of the columns appeared to be in a similar state, even spying a few cracks and potholes on the marble floor. Periodically he looks back towards the direction of the castle to see if he could spot the library window. He could, which meant he was in the right place. But the trimmed rose bush hedges and podium was nowhere.

Perhaps they were further out? He swayed left and right as thunder boomed ominously above him, uncertain if he should continue onwards or return to the castle and hoped the Queen would be too tied up in some official matter. Buggy still couldn’t stomach facing Red. 

That notion was enough to force him to take a step forward, forward, and further away from the castle. He knew the rain would pour by the time he’ll be returning by the castle but still, he batted the thought away. Curiosity killed the cat , he’d tell Red and the attending servants later, and only satisfaction could bring it back .

Buggy hummed a tune that tickled the back of his mind as an accompaniment, too unnerved by the echo of his footsteps to be the only other noise around. The only other time he’d seen such a barren man made place was the town back home two days after the harvest festival wrapped up, where everyone in town was nursing their hangovers in the privacy of their own home.

He hugged himself in a semblance of self-comfort as he mulled over the word, home . Was it justified to call the burrow he’s got in the forest adjacent to the town justified? Buggy shuddered to think of Red’s reaction if he knew. But this time away was enough to really start thinking how he could figure out Red’s real name and leave before he gets tempted to stay forever.

On one side, there were too many weird fucking things about the place. Shapeshifting people and riddlers aside, the fact that Doflamingo and Rosinante were estranged from him felt… off . To be fair, Doflamingo wasn’t avoiding him, they were never close and the man was far too busy fawning over his little brother dearest in each memory Buggy had remembered. Rosinante though, had been more pleasant, pacifying their fights when Doflamingo had uttered enough to piss off Red and himself.

One thing that had also stayed constant was Doflamingo’s obsessive hold over their Royal Titles. He’d often call Buggy a pauper, peasant, pariah; well the last part had only been once as Buggy didn’t hesitate to knock his teeth in with a well-landed punch. Doflamingo had never been worse afterwards. Point was, the other boy had never stopped reminding Buggy that he, Rosinante, and Red would be Queens one day. So why the fuck had they grown up to be a pair of Ducchess and pet.

Nico Robin implied a war, but why? He found it hard to believe that Wonderland would be so peaceful if a war had truly taken place. Despite how Doflamingo would mock his own brother dearest for being too kind, Rosinante could be the protective type when push came to shove. If Red had truly harmed them, they wouldn’t be having their little croquet parties with scones and tea.

“You there…”

There was a loud, wet snort as Buggy turned around and he nearly couldn’t stop the gag climbing up his throat. A simpering, sleaze man grinned down at him, a trail of snot running down his nostrils past the curve of his large cupid’s bow. Unlike the rest of Wonderland (that he’d seen so far), this man looked awful. The untrimmed beard, the snot all over his face, and the rags covering his body, he looked so removed from the rest of the queendom it was jarring.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, not bothering to be polite. Something from the man rang alarm bells in his gut. 

The man chuckled, staring down at Buggy through dark tinted lenses. His snot dribbled precariously, bobbing up and down with each sniffle as it dangled past his chin. “Hmmm, I can’t believe what I’m seeing? Good to finally meet you.”

Buggy’s lips twisted in disgust as he stepped a few steps further, shivers racking up his spine. There was something large latching on the man’s back, he realised belatedly. Green and domed, it wasn’t a horrifying hunchback but a turtle’s shell.

“Yeah, no,” Buggy cringed. “Not feeling the same here.”

“I’ve heard of you. I know you. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fucking worrying, and I’m leaving.” He waved the other man off, stomping the way he came from. There was sputtering behind him, heavy steps catching up. A dark shadow looming over him was Buggy’s only warning before he flinched and dodged the hand about to clamp his shoulder.

“Don’t go yet, hehe.” A snort and slurp. “Don’t you have questions? Wondering about lots’a things?”

“Not if it’s forcing me to talk to you,” Buggy snapped. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Trebol.”

Yeah, like that explained everything. He still hasn’t figured out why Wonderlanders had such a weird habit. “Okay.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m trying to help you, you know.”

“What makes you think I need help from you .” 

“News travels around fast, hehe.” Trebol snickered, “I know what exactly you need.”

“Uhuh, and what do you want in return,” Buggy knew what these deals entailed. “How many of the Queen’s flashy gems do you want for your cut? Enough to buy some new clothes for you at least, right?”

“None of that. You deserve to keep more for yourself, actually.” He stretched a long arm towards Buggy, unveiling an intricate brass key. “Have this. It’s the key to the Treasury.”

Mouth agape, Buggy scoffed. He flipped the bird at Trebol, dodging the offered hand. “Fuck, stay away from me.” He tried to not imagine how wet the key was, covered in less-than desirable…fluids. “Seriously, I should leave. You’re suspicious and creeping me out.”

“So cruel,” Trebol whined, slamming his cane onto the ground with a dull thud. “I’ll have you know I was a respected Advisor of the Yellow Queen, Donquixote Doflamingo! I’m not a suspicious creep.”

“Wait–you…you’re what?” That got him interested. “Y-you knew Doflamingo…as the Queen?”

Trebol nodded, “I’ve heard about you once, Buggy. Queen Corazon mentioned you at length. Queen Doflamingo too, once, maybe.”

He’s referring to the Donquixote brothers as Queens. Which meant they had sat on their respective thrones, for a time. Buggy stared at the creep before him long and hard, shifting from one heel to the other as questions bubbled up his throat. He forced them down still, gaze drifting between the man’s messy grin and everywhere else. An uncomfortable shiver travelled up his spine, rattling his ribs as his heart thumped wildly.

“Come with me. There’s something you should see.”

Wet squelching trailed Trebol’s every step, a faint trail of mucus tinting a greenish-grey under the gloomy weather. Thankfully it didn’t smell. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to lessen the trepidation Buggy felt. He waited for the distance between them to grow before taking a step to follow. He could hear Trebol mutter and snicker to himself non-stop, a long snort and drip cutting in here and there.

The unlikely pair crossed the edge of the plaza, passing by multiple columns before Trebol stopped at a particular one. He looked back towards Buggy with a loopy grin, ducking left and pushing himself into a foliage of yellowing leaves. The large shell on his back shredded open an obvious path for Buggy to follow, stepping past broken branches that snapped under his shoes. Briefly he considered going back where he came from, and back towards the castle. The weather wasn’t helpful either.

But…he’s already made it this far. And he couldn’t help his growing curiosity to hear about the Donquixote brothers’ current fates, even if he had to follow some weird creep to do so.

Thunderclap roared above him.

Buggy looked at the turtle shell wobbling on the man’s back, slowly disappearing as the man continued down the path.

He took a deep breath.

– 

“What are you getting out of this, really?”

“Why, the satisfaction of knowing someone remembers what really happened is enough,” Trebol hummed. “History is written by victors after all, while the real truth could be forever lost.”

Buggy frowned, wondering what Trebol insinuated exactly. He narrowly avoided stumbling again, the uneven path. The air around him smelled sharp, going straight to the back of his head. He shook off the oncoming dizziness as he followed the trail of mucus that caused the soil to muddy enough to ruin the soles of his shoes.

It had to be a good ten minutes of silence before the taller man disappeared from between the tall hedges. Fully resigned that he’ll be knee deep in dirt, Buggy picked up his pace after the man. He squinted as leaves smacked his face as he burst out of the clearing. 

“What the…”

Trebol chuckled, waving his arms around grandly. And it was indeed, a sight to behold. The taller man stood in the middle of the lake, gentle ripples moving the otherwise still water beneath him. Buggy stared at the ferns and the stacks of eroded rocks underwater, their tips just barely touching the surface. It wasn’t such things that drew his attention most though.

Two, four, twenty, thirty, how many were actually there? There were too many to count. Buggy stared at the numerous doors standing on their own above the water, varying in all shapes and sizes. Some appeared weathered than others, some looked foreign, others seemed still half-constructed. One thing they all had in common were the splintered damage across every door, whether on its frame or the door itself.

“What the hell is this place?” 

“You can call it the graveyard of doors, I guess…”

The name fit. “That doesn’t explain what I really asked.”

“Wonderland…is a very possessive lover.” The story was certainly a familiar one. “She’d never let her citizens leave.”

“I know.”

“A certain ruler tried to cheat her game. Abused the blessings Wonderland gave them. The doors you see here…” He rapped on a rotted barn door, “are supposed to be portals to the Aboveworld. Each of them was a failure though, and then left forgotten here.”

“Just spit it out, already.” He was so fucking sick of all these metaphors and roundabouts. “What happened here in the last two decades.”

“The Queen of Hearts, or the Red Queen as you knew him back then. He’s the source of all this ruin, he started this war and toppled the power balance of Wonderland.”

“Shut up–” He flinched as Trebol slammed his cane on the water, a dull thud against a splash and then splintering cracks from under them.

“No!” The man hissed, standing up to his full height. Despite the greyish snot dripping down both nostrils, he looked terrifying. “Listen to me, Buggy. Listen. Don’t you want to know the story? ”

Not anymore he doesn’t. He took a step back. “I…”

“Don’t you want to know, Buggy? This is your doing after all.”  A long, knobbly finger stretched towards him. Trapped him in place. “ You caused this war. You drove that Queen to madness. You are the ruin of the Donquixote Queens.”

“Stop saying it like that!” Buggy sputtered, “and stop being overdramatic. Why the fuck are you blaming me for some war Red, Doffy, and Rosi participated in.”

“Red?” Trebol cackled, “how silly that you still can’t even remember his name. Do you even know what it is in the first place?”

Buggy gritted his teeth, ears warming as he gripped his hands into fists. “Shut up. Keep yourself out of my business with him.”

“Easy for you to say that, but you can’t. You don’t get to say that, when he’s made it the rest of Wonderland’s business. What else do you need to know? How exactly did he torch the Yellow Queen’s castle to ashes? How did he rip away the crown from the White Queen as he stood over his brother’s dying body?” Trebol tossed the key at him, the little thing tumbling right onto the ground by the tip of Buggy’s shoe. “Don’t you want to find out more? How exactly he’s got our world to bend to his wishes?”

His breathing quickened. He wants to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies the glint of the small key, half buried in the soft soil.

“Wake up, Buggy .”

“Shut up.” Loose gravel crunched under his heel as he dropped to a crouch, trying to close his ears.

“I know everything, and so does everyone. They’re all just hiding the truth from you.”

“And you’re not?” He spat out.

“Ask the right questions, Buggy. To the right people.”

Hot anger flushed his veins as he rose to the challenge. “Are you the right person then? How the fuck would I know if you’re hiding shit from me too? The Red I know would never do that.”

Trebol huffed, exasperated as he waved his cane around. “And you think you know him better? Better than those who are now forced to live under his rule?”

“I know him. J-just like I know Doffy…and Rosi, and–and Red.”

“Damned fool . He’s not your Red, you fool! He’s the destroyer of Wonderland. The murderer of the great Donquixote clan, the accursed Queen of Hearts, Sh–” Trebol grunted mid sentence, his expression stiffening. His cane fell with a splash, sinking into the water below him despite the man still standing on the surface. A gurgle chokes out of his throat, a cough, a spray of crimson.

Buggy watched on. His breathing quickened. His head spun. 

He watched as the towering man fell onto his knees. His disconcerting, characteristic laugh slipped in between each wheeze. The man looked like a snail on salt, shrivelling and twitching as he crawled closer towards where Buggy stood on the lake’s bay.

“Do you see?” Trebol choked. “Your Red did this.” He had his hands around his own collar now, convulsing until his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Buggy couldn’t even care to be disgusted about the flying snot, his gaze entranced at the man lying a few feet away from him, knobby fingers digging deeply into the earth below, staining his ruined fingernails worse. “ He demands silence. He demands you. Wonderland, granted him both.”

Each breath he drew was shorter, gagging and coughing as the man struggled to inhale. Blood and mucus streamed down his face in a sickening mixture. Trebol groaned, pounding his fists against his temples. “It hurts…”

Buggy flinched as his hateful gaze landed on him, yet he was only strong enough tot take two steps backwards before his legs gave out. He landed with a hard thump, wincing at the painful jab of a rock against the back of his thigh. Near him, Trebol continued to whine about the pain. It was obvious something was going terribly wrong. His cheeks swelled up, his eyes and nose barely visible anymore, only a deep dimple surrounded by a swollen purple balloon. It grew and grew in size, Trebol’s pained voice pitching higher until it reminded Buggy of a squealing pig about to be slaughtered. 

“ You …caused this…” Trebol rasped out, pointing at him with a trembling hand, laying his final curse onto Buggy. With one final inhumane screech, he convulsed violently and the balloon popped.

He closed his eyes, feeling wet spattering all across his face and clothes. He refused to feel more than that, refused to acknowledge what just happened. Shakily, he sighed out as a self reassurance, slowly looking downwards as he tried to remember where exactly Trebol had thrown the key. His hands trembled as he fought to keep himself upright, elbow joints nearly locking painfully. Buggy’s teeth chattered as he muttered expletives, mind echoing Trebol’s curse over and over as he wondered if what the man said was true. Slowly he squinted his eyes open, only for a weak whimper to slip out of him.

A disembodied tongue lying innocently next to a bloodied key.

The implications were obvious, Buggy wasn’t always pulling wool over his eyes. Trebol died because he was about to speak Red’s true name. It was implausible, for a broken law to immediately cause death with little fanfare. But Wonderland doesn’t run with familiar logic. He looked up to focus his gaze on the graveyard of doors across him, focused on the sight as his hand groped for the feel of metal, forcing himself to marvel at the water, crystal blue and still. 

“Fuck,” he hiccuped each breath, icy panic overtaking his rationale. As soon as trembling finger clenched over the key Buggy scrambled to stand, avoiding lowering his gaze. He fights the tears stinging his eyes, “Think some fucking happy thoughts.”

Key in hand, he whirled around and marched away from the body, batting away another stray blue butterfly before he pushed himself through the thick foliage. He barely noticed it when lightning lit up the world around him white, doesn’t flinch when thunder boomed far too loudly. It was only when wet drops hit his skin did he jump, cursing until he realised how quickly he was dampening that it was just rain .

Buggy’s teeth chattered from both the cold and the rain. He knew he looked like a mess. It wouldn’t take Red to see that something must have happened. Pausing in his tracks, he allowed the incoming torrent to cleanse him. 

What next? Who to trust? Trebol had his own agenda for telling him all this, even if his own death didn’t seem to be part of the plan, he admitted it himself that he was a high-ranker in Doflamingo’s court. The man was likely doing it to ensure that the court he had once served would exist again.

The empty plaza appeared more ominous than before, the surface of it slippery enough to catch him off guard a few times. He took his time despite the horrible weather as if it was a leisurely stroll. By now he was soaked to the bone, a mess of soil and darkening blood stains camouflaging the tragedy. Red probably had started a search party, Buggy could almost imagine the thousands of questions coming from the man when they’d inevitably see each other again.

A yellowish glow peeked from between the rose bushes leading up to the castle. The whole estate lit up like a beacon, beckoning lost souls home. Glumly, Buggy pushed himself through the tall stalks, parting the bush roughly enough to hear some snap.

“He’s here!” Someone shouted as he emerged into the garden.

Faceless hands tug him onward, soft towels patting his arms, his face. The rain stopped as a dark shadow covered him, another one of Red’s card servants hovering with an umbrella. At the edge of the garden, a figure, tall and foreboding, awaited Buggy’s return.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps despite the card servants trying to urge him forward, looking up at the Queen to see his dark expression. Buggy didn’t bother trying to explain himself, didn’t bother with any kind of expression. He just continued shivering.

“You knew.” 

“He broke the law.”

“You bastard!” He surged forward, slamming his fists onto Red’s chest. “Do you know how fucked up you sound right now?”

The ruler before him sighed, “Buggy. Criminals get punished all the time, and he just happened to break a very heinous law. You need to understand things from my perspective, was I supposed to let people who endanger the kingdom roam free?”

“I–What?” His jaw hung open incredulously. “It’s just a fucking name and he deserves to get his head blown up like that?”

“He was spreading lies… he scared you, Buggy.” The Queen smiled warmly at his own justification, gently resting his hand onto Buggy’s wrist to placate him.

“Fuck off.” No more of this , Buggy pushed against the touch, wincing when Red tightened his grip instead. “Ow– You know, you scare me more than he does! Ugh! ” His bone creaked. The light in Red’s eyes slowly died. Buggy knew he just pushed themselves over the edge. 

“Well…If you say so.” Too gentle, way too calm for someone that looked as if they were about to go batshit insane. A hiss, a breeze. Black vines shot out of The Queen’s loose sleeve, winding themselves tight around Buggy’s limbs, digging deep into his flesh the more he shifted in panic. A darkened gaze fell upon Buggy’s fisted hand, a gloved one gently prying it open to reveal a bloodied palm and a dirty key. Disappointment and resignation contorted the noble’s tired face, as if he knew what to expect but had been hopeful for the contrary.

“Feel like letting me go now?”

“No,” Red whispered. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.”

Chapter Text

“I still don’t get why you’re locking me up.”

“You’re under grounds for thievery attempt.”

“How the fuck–” He sighed, scrubbing his face as his shoulders sagged. “That doesn’t make sense. What did I attempt to steal?”

The veiled peon guard paused, tilting his head in an exaggerated motion of contemplation. “Interesting that you’d still deny that when the Queen found the key to the Treasury in your hands.”

“I didn’t steal that?” he protested weakly. “You can’t say I’m a thief when your Queen gave me presents out of the same treasury and gave me a tour in it.”

“Just because His Majesty was kind to you, doesn’t mean you should have overstepped your bounds and attempted to break in.” The guard scoffed, “Haven’t you heard? What’s given cannot be taken.”

“What does that mean?”

Buggy rattled his cage when the guard didn’t answer, slamming against the bars to rile up a reaction. “Stop being so vague!”

Dismissively, the guard shrugged. “It means exactly as it’s said.”

The light flickered as the dungeon doors slammed shut behind the guard, solitude quickly hissing up to engulf the room. Buggy stomped back to the creaky bed on the far corner of his new room, a far cry to what he had since his arrival at the Castle of Hearts. Rolling under the stained blanket, he wondered if Red confiscated the chestful of gems he’d gifted.

Even a blind man would know there was something different about Red’s expression this time. Buggy had pushed, pushed, pushed them into a precipice and then tipped him over the edge. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be down here, and he was right in the first place for not falling completely into Red’s arms. It hurt less, he reassured himself as his eyes slid shut, muffling his whimpers between sealed lips.

‘Do you see? Your Red did this.’

‘ You …caused this…’

“Fuck off, I didn’t.” Buggy groaned, weakly slamming his head against his limp pillow.

And in a quieter whisper, he wondered. “Why the hell did you do such a thing, Red?”

The question plagued him for days before he realised it. That and the fact that he’s been here for days made Buggy wonder just how long did Red intend to lock him up here.

Leaning against the wall adjacent to his bed, Buggy counted the growing amount of black spots on his ceiling. His hand scratched against the bedsheets under him continuously, a monotonous sharp scrith, scritch, scritch against the silence. His throat felt heavy, despite not being thirsty, but on the hesitance to make some noise and confirm his voice still exists.

Fairly enough, despite the shitty accommodations, it wasn’t like he was treated badly. The boredom was one thing, especially since all the guards were stationed outside, leaving him without any conversation partners. On the plus side, he wasn’t chained up or tortured, unlike the town jail when he was caught for being an actual thief and would leave the slammer a few days later with bruises and whip marks that’d last.

Sure, he still got a classical waste bucket and bathed with a washcloth. But at least he’s got warm water and soap and could always shout for more. They weren’t skimping out on the prison food either. In fact, he’s fed three warm meals a day, the quality no less than what he had eaten on the Queen’s table.

It’s just…the confinement was starting to get to him. He’s asked to see Red, on multiple occasions when a guard did come in to check that he’s still alive, only to be met with silence as they shut the door again and left him in the flickering light. By the third day he’s given up on opening his mouth, giving them a blank stare or pretending to be asleep altogether. 

The heavy squeak of the dungeon door had his attention like a moth to a flame, his body twitching in anticipation. Pushing himself off the bed, Buggy could smell a bright lemon scent intermingling with a freshness that he guessed was seafood. Some type of shellfish dish perhaps? His stomach rumbled embarrassingly, too used to having nothing to do but eat that he depended on the themed foods as a way to calculate the passage of time; a variation of eggs or sandwiches for breakfast, dark meats for lunch, and some kind of seafood fare for a light dinner.

Instead of the heavy thudded boots of a well-armoured guard, the footsteps sounded lighter as they approached. Buggy stared through the dim light with a thudding heart. Was it another crazy Donquixote croney with even more ominous warnings? Or was it Red finally willing to meet him, despite his heart knowing full-well how multifaceted the Queen was and how he shouldn’t be missing the man at all.

He found himself face-to-face with a head of blond hair and swirling eyebrows carrying a tray of food.

“It’s…you…?” He winced at the roughness of his voice, the exaggerated tremor in his throat from days of disuse.

“Yeah, me.” The blond chef replied through a puff of tobacco smoke.

“What’s the occasion…” Buggy squinted as he racked his brain, “uh, I don’t remember your name.”

“Not exactly important,” the other man smirked as he busied himself to push the tray through Buggy’s feeding window. “But it’s Sanji.”

“Yeah. I know you.”

“Duh, everything cooked you’ve eaten here was made by me.”

Buggy looked down at the tray he was presented with, mouth salivating at the sight of baked salmon. He could smell the lemon and herbs from where he stood, as well as the bright green of an asparagus side and some dipping bread of sorts. The meal felt warm, inviting, reminding him of brighter times. Still, Buggy sighed and pushed his hunger aside, looking back up at the man standing on the other side of his bars.

Sanji looked different out of his usual chef garb, his ridiculously tall hat nowhere to be found as he was dressed in a dark maroon suit instead. Black dress shoes, gloves, and tie defined his style further. His appearance, out of the rest of any Wonderlanders he’d seen, looked so normal. So, so, normal and dared he say…human?

“Anything you need from me?”

Silver smoke curled around the blond with a slow exhale as the slow yet repeated tapping of his shoe against the stone floor echoed around the both of them. Fighting down his impatience, Buggy tuned the sound out the best he could. If he snapped too hard, he’d piss the man off and be left in longer agonising silence. 

And then… “Your execution date was just decided.”

Blood drained from his face. That was not what he expected to hear. Stuttering through a few questions, he finally decided on, “Why are you telling me this?” This had to be a joke…right?

Sanji shrugged, a small smile painting his face. “Not sure, but I’m a gentleman who believes in good manners.”

“And manners being what? Pitying a dying man enough to play as their personal chef and conversational partner?”

“More or less, yeah.” He takes another puff of his cigarette, “When I heard it, the only thing that ran through my mind was, fucking finally . I can’t believe how long it took, but finally an excuse for the Executioner to come back.”

Buggy stared, “that’s a weirdly specific thing to look forward to.”

“I blame the mosshead. It’s his dream to be the greatest swordsman in both worlds, and I’d be a shitty partner if I’m not supportive.”

Both worlds…? “You weren’t born here…you came down, just like Nico Robin did.”

“Don’t be comparing me to Ms. Robin, she came here for a more noble purpose than I did. I’m here because the mosshead promised he’d accompany me to look for my dream. That’s why I stayed.”

“Okay. Whatever.” He kept a close eye on every twitch and shift the blond made. “How the hell would you even go on some fucking vacation when your mosshead can’t even make it out of here.” Buggy didn’t shy down as Sanji narrowed his eyes sharply. “Yeah, he’s born here, I could see his ears.”

“Like all laws, there’s always exceptions or loopholes,” the blond countered back. “The Queen can grant freedom to traverse both worlds to one individual. Well, unless you’re the White Rabbit, they’re just messengers. Zoro just has to defeat the current Executioner to prove that he’s the best here, and deserves his freedom.”

“That’s one person, you’re gonna need a pass for yourself buddy.”

Sanji chuckled as he dropped his dying cigarette to the floor, stubbing out the embers with a scrape of his heel. “Who said I couldn’t leave here?”

Buggy sucked in a breath, “you didn’t eat a devil fruit.”

It was…mind boggling. Here he was, freaking out about the effects of long-term exposure to Wonderland and there was a man who willingly did it for what…? Love? The notion of it made him shudder. “You’re insane.”

Sanji’s smile split just a bit too wide at the comment, his blue eyes glittering too brightly through the darkness. “We’re all a little mad down here.” 

Frozen, he watched the other man like a hawk, letting the uncomfortable silence continue simmering between them. Until finally, the blond broke their eye contact and shrugged. Gesturing to the food tray between them as a reminder, Sanji stepped away as if he finished his duties. 

Buggy’s shoulders sagged as the distinctive clicking of Sanji’s lighter slowly faded as he exited the dungeon. Picking up the meal tray, the food smelled considerably duller as it cooled down. Still he poked at it and forced himself to swallow, trying to enjoy the taste despite the morbid conversation he just had prior. 

Should he have asked the blond more details about his impending doom. Like, how long exactly did he have to live? Perhaps how exactly they were going to execute him? By blade, burning, or drowning? Or was he supposed to make the choice himself?

And where the fuck was Red, throughout all this?

A sudden burst of rage flared inside his chest. Before he realised what he was doing, the half-eaten tray flung from his hands, slamming shrilly against the metal bars. Remnants of soggy asparagus and torn bread lay scattered across the dark floor, seeping in between crevices that’ll definitely rot and drive Buggy crazy but he can’t bring himself to care about it right now.

Were the rumours true then? That Red was a bloodthirsty asshole that he should have avoided in the first place. Or was this all happening because he didn’t care to heed Red’s warnings and played the game by his rules?

Still, wasn’t it silly in the first place to bet his freedom over a name?

He flinched as he heard the dungeon doors open, the piercing creak reverberating against the walls. It better not be that crazy blond chef again because fuck he’s tempted to fling his tray at the man.

Instead, he found himself face to face with another blond.

“Your execution had just been decided,” Rosinante said before Buggy could greet him.

“Yeah, another blond just stopped by and told me.”

The White Duchess frowned, stepping closer and curling his hands against the bars. His glance brushed over at the mess of leftover food near where he stood. “You’re calmer than I expected.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I start screaming my head off in your face then?” He scoffed, “hardly helpful.”

Rosinante sighed. “Be serious for a bit. You’re about to die.”

“Right, tell me the date I should circle on the calendar.”

“Buggy…”

“Shut it, Rosi,” he snapped sharply. “Unless there’s something important you’d want to tell me, please leave me, because you’re not the one I want to see right now.”

“I–”

“Why the fuck are you down here, anyway?”

“I just…wanted to–”

“To tell me?” Fuck did he sound so hysterical, “I’m going to die and your first thought was, ‘ Oh , Buggy should know he’s gonna get his head separated from his body?’ because that’s fucked up!”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” the White Duchess muttered. “At least…can’t you make me understand? What made him lock you up…? There were rumours you stole something but even that wouldn’t warrant an execution.”

“I didn’t do shit! Why don’t you ask him what he’s been up to instead?” He tugged at his ponytail. “Really, this wasn’t something I should be involved with. You want to know who gave me that key? Gave , by the way, not stolen from. It was this guy Trebol that claimed to be your brother’s Advisor.”

“That’s not possible,” Rosi interjected. “He…he disappeared years ago. My brother ordered his death because he’s a traitor.”

“A traitor to what, exactly? Because he sounded pretty fucking loyal to your brother. He’s saying that Red’s the one making these crazy portals, saying it’s a door graveyard and told me that I’m the one the cause of all this.”

“He’s always been a blight, Buggy!” The Duchess shouted, banging his head multiple times onto the metal bars. “Don’t you ever believe him!”

“Tell me your story then,” he scoffed. “How did you lose your throne, Queenie?”

“Can I sit?”

“Only if you start opening your mouth and tell me what exactly is going on.”

“That’s what I intend to do.”

He watched Rosinante closely as the noble slowly arranged himself into a sitting position, criss crossing his legs to sit on his feet. The man’s bright feathered ivory robe was stark against the dark dungeon, whilst his trademark smiling makeup contorted against his actual pained expression.

“Trebol was an outlier in my brother’s court,” Rosinante began as he smoothed down the dark feathers of their coats. “He’s always looking to expand the kingdom beyond what’s possible…The Upper World if you know what I mean?”

“You mean where I came from.”

“Yes…He was very curious about ways to access it from multiple portals at a time. And that isn’t how this world worked.”

“He told me Red was the one who created the portals.”

“Buggy,” Rosinante warned. “Trust me when I say that’s ridiculous. It takes a lot out of me to hate someone, but that man was a blight in Doffy’s court. His illusions of grandeur brought us all to danger.”

“That doesn’t explain how you both lost your crown and Red was the only one standing. That doesn’t explain why I’ve been hearing there was a war .”

“Breaking the boundaries between worlds caused a fracture Buggy, not a war. Doffy suffered the worst of it. He nearly faded away, died in your language, because his so-called advisor planted dangerous thoughts in his head. Red…was left standing because he didn’t start this mess.” He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he relived the memories in his mind. “We are all victims of that liar, Buggy. Just in different ways. My brother’s crown was requisitioned by Wonderland for his greed, and I had to relinquish mine just because we’re of the same blood.”

“So why are you all keeping this away from me? What’s with all this hiding and silence on your end?” He could have 

“Why should that be the first thing we tell you, Buggy?”

“That…” is fair. He looked at Rosinante for the first time, really looked . At how older the blond was, how tall he had stood, the coronet on his head. He’s changed, they’ve all changed. He just couldn’t understand that because…he was living his own life, outside of their circle. “What’s with the games though, I’ve clearly told him I wanted to leave. He forced me into a bet and now I’m locked up here, hearing how he wants me dead.”

“I’m not making excuses for him, but can’t you see it that he just wants you here longer?”

“Just him?” Buggy blurted out sarcastically. “Not anyone else?”

“You’ve always been closer to him than my brother and I.”

“This fucking ridiculous.” He definitely wasn’t crying, and his voice wasn’t wavering. “I didn’t want to be here in the first place, I’ve always thought this place was me having a fucking hallucination. Now that I’m here, he’s the one that forced me to ‘ Stay longer’ , or whatever. Why the fuck does he want me dead now?” He listened to the soft, shaky exhale the Duchess let out and swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt so fragile that he’d crumble to dust. “Fuck…Rosi, I just don’t get it? Am I going to die?”

“No!” Sweet, quiet Rosinante cried out, sounding like the soft-spoken child Buggy always remembered him as. “You can’t die! Please, Buggy, you can’t!”

“What the hell do I do?” Shit, he sounded so hysterical. “He wants me dead.”

“He doesn’t, and we both know that. You know how he feels about you.”

“Yes, yes, I know how he feels about me.” If his pitch rose at least two octaves higher, it didn’t . Buggy tugged at his hair, mussing up the loose ponytail even worse. “I don’t feel fucking loved by the guy that wants to execute me though.”

“I…it’s, he wasn’t the one who suggested it.”

“Then who the fuck did?” He was on his feet before he realised it, panting harshly as the world spun around him. “Let me punch the bastard right now.”

“Listen to me,” the Duchess sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As much as he didn’t want you dead, you did break a law, alright? I heard what happened. The key Trebol gave you wasn’t to the Treasury, it’s to an artefact that could potentially cause a second apocalypse. You having it freaked everyone out, they think you’re here to destroy the world.”

Considering what Rosi had been telling him, it was a fair assumption. Still… “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“He knows it too. The reason he’s not visiting you is because he’s terrified of seeing you without having a solution to save you from the gallows.”

“Do you know anything?”

“I…”

“Please, I’ll do anything.”

The White Duchess blinked, “are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He nodded furiously, wiping tears away from his eyes. “Yeah, anything.”

“Then…I’ll see what I can do.” The blond pushed himself up, brushing dirt off his now soiled pants. “I won’t let you down, both of you.”

“Promise me? I can see him again and…and that he doesn’t actually want me to die?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

The bastard Donquixote Rosinante lied.

Buggy stared at the etched lines he’s made on the wall beside his bed, numbly tracing the total of thirteen scratches he’s dug into the stone with a fork. Thirteen fucking days since the two of them last spoke. Thirteen fucking days since the blond left him with a parting knowledge that his execution was to be in two weeks.

At the dawn of the fourteenth day, Buggy silently scraped an additional line onto the wall.

His eyes burned from sleepless nights, his hands ached from how much he banged them against the bars, trying to catch someone, anyone’s attention. His demands turned into frantic pleading, his anger melting away into gouging pain in his chest.

He’s faced with total silence in those thirteen days, no other visitor shadowing his doorstep. Or maybe they were blocked, who knows. Point was, even the heart-to-heart chat with Rosinante couldn’t stop Buggy’s mind from tripping into a slippery void.

The crevices near the ceiling slowly brightened with each passing minute, light streaming into his prison while the ones in his heart drowned. His neck started to ache from looking up too long, fantasising that he’d suddenly wake up and everything was just something his dreams conjured up. But the chill in his spine, the roughness of the stone wall, and the sickening sweet rot of spoiled food all felt too real to be in denial.

He’s still left wondering when they’ll execute him. Would it be soon at dawn, by midday, or by dusk? Rosinante, that fucking bastard, forgot to let him know. Maybe his sad little face deserved a nice punch too, Doflamingo’s bitchfit be damned. 

Right on cue, as he was about to grind his own head into a paste against the wall, a creak slipped open. The dungeon doors, Buggy realised belatedly as he straightened up his posture. Was it breakfast? He didn’t realise it had gotten this late. Was he allowed one last meal before his head gets chopped off? 

At the sight of two soldiers and not a single tray in sight, his heart sank. The rusted clink of his prison bars barely made him blink. His head feels heavier than the chains cuffing his wrists. Buggy stumbled as he was dragged out of the dungeon, hissing at the brightness of the hallway despite the early hours.

“Guess the gallows are this way?” He asked out loud. The veiled peons infuriatingly ignored him as they marched him down. Something tells him that he wasn’t on his way towards the gardens or Red’s audience chamber. Instead, he walked down a familiar looking guest wing and was escorted towards a set of familiar doors.

The strong scent of vanilla hits him as the doors open, rich smoky tea, and the sweetness of thick marmalade. Donquixote Rosinante sits upon a plush beige armchair, garbed in a sheer high-collared shirt and satin corset in identical shades of the palest white.

“You look comfy,” Buggy commented drily.

Indeed the noble did, looking right at home in the guestroom reserved for him during his visits in Red’s castle. With a wave of his hand he beckoned Buggy closer. The peon escorts excused themselves without a word, closing the door behind them. Amidst the chittering birds beyond the window, Rosinante calmly sipped his tea.

Begrudgingly Buggy sank into the softest armchair beside the blond, grabbing one of those delicate chocolate truffles that the noble always liked. The raspberry filling burst in his mouth as he sucked on it, noting the lack of carbs he’d usually have for breakfast but, no. Not a single tart or scone in sight.

“So,” the blond started as Buggy crunched on his third truffle. “How are you?”

“The only reason I haven’t started cussing you out is because I’m terrified they’ll make my death more painful that way.”

“Sorry I took so long.”

“An understatement, but okay.” Buggy hummed as the crunchy hazelnut spread coated his tongue, reaching out to pour himself  a cup of tea. “I’m this close to swinging.”

Sweet, always sweet, Rosinante ignored his jibe. The man only sighed, the bottom of his cup clinking with the saucer. Everything in white and silver, just for Rosinante’s guest room. “I found the perfect solution for you.”

“Do pray tell,” he copied Rosi’s accent thickly, coughing daintily as he brought the cup to his lips.

“Marry him.”

Tea disgustingly sprays out. Classic, yes. But fuck, shouldn’t Rosinante learn enough social cues to not say shocking things when people were trying to drink? “Take that back.”

“It’s the only solution.”

“Shut up.” Buggy glared, “you’re lying.”

“I’m not and I’m not joking.” He held his hand up at Buggy’s furious expression, “listen to me. It is the best I can think of and you need to listen. I’ve only got enough time to talk to you before morning court starts.”

“You took two weeks just to come up with the idea that I should marry him?” Really, he’s tempted to fling the teacup towards the wall.

“More like two weeks of trying every solution and seeing the bad ending for you to realise it’s the only plan.” He sighed again as he poured himself a new cup, “I don’t understand your reaction, anyway. You like him and he likes you. Which is why he’s been doing all this to keep you here.”

“Sounds insane, but okay.”

Rosinante smiled, “isn’t everyone a little bit mad for love?”

The words sound somewhat familiar. Buggy shook the tangent off as he tried to imagine the ending to the blond’s suggestion. “How do we know that marrying him really guarantees my execution’s gonna be cancelled anyway?”

“It’s a law loophole.” Fuck, Buggy hated the blond’s tone of chiding him. As if he was a parent that knew better. “Marrying royalty makes you one. Being royalty means you won’t be considered an outsider, and being the Queen of Hearts’ consort means you’re allowed to touch things you weren’t allowed to before.”

“That’s it?” Floored, he leaned closer to watch Rosi’s expression. He was suspicious how simple the solution was, but wary that it was a cheap trick.

“Look,” the blond sighed, pushing Buggy’s face away to a more respectable distance. “I don’t see why you’re being fussy. You have an excuse to marry him now without being embarrassed about it.”

“Stop over simplifying things!” He cried out, pitch rising again with his panic. “Even if I do, that doesn’t change the fact he’s been so…so pushy! And clingy! That’s if I actually like him!”

“Good that you stopped blaming him for genocide,” the blond muttered.

“ Anyway ,” Buggy huffed. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Just declare it out of nowhere?”

“Sounds like a traditional surprise proposal.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“Buggy, you know him better than I do. Why are you asking me for a solution to something I can’t understand?”

“Because you’re the one that gave me this solution?”

“I can’t give you an answer to everything.”

The pair looked up as the door rapped three sharp times, clicking open as a veiled peon peeked in. Buggy’s heart thumped at the implication and sucked in a deep sigh as Rosinante’s gaze narrowed. He knew what the implication meant. His clock was ticking down to minutes.

“We have to go. Morning court is starting and he wants you present.”

He resisted a sarcastic comment as he followed the blond, only rolling his eyes as Corazon grabbed a silver lined robe to layer over his already all-white outfit. He glanced at his creased trousers in comparison and huffed. Him, a noble? Marrying Red? Even if it was to save his own life, the notion of it was ridiculous.

The peon soldiers marching him towards the throne room were harsher than his previous escorts, not shying away to threaten him with their sheathed swords as they urged him to keep on moving forward. Buggy glanced back at Rosinante following behind them at a snail’s pace, as if the blond couldn’t afford to be caught associating himself with Buggy at all.

The hallways grew crowded as they neared the throne room, more and more guards lining their way. Their unseeing eyes followed his each step, to which he rolled his own at the dramatics. He nearly stumbled, once or twice, nearly being the keyword. Thankfully, he managed to avoid making a fool of himself by the time he’s pushed into the grand room.

He felt the atmosphere shift at his entrance, the heavy hush spreading to each corner of the crowded room. Buggy had never seen the morning audience this crowded. Musk and cedarwood and some sort of floral, all the expensive scents intermingling in one stuffy court above the heavy haze of tobacco. His head was starting to spin. Hesitantly, he lifted his head to meet the Queen’s gaze.

Red, like the colour of his hair. Red , like what made him who he was. Buggy held his breath, unwilling to flinch as he kept his chin raised. His echoing steps clicked on despite the carpet he’s stepping on, heavy chains on his wrists rustling louder than the shifting of his fabric. The cuffs felt damp, smelling faintly of salt, now that he realised.

“Morning court item twenty three,” Red’s right-hand man called out between puffs of his cigar. “Today’s criminal, to be executed for theft and suspicion of treason.”

Treason. Buggy swallowed the scoff climbing up his throat.

“Is this really all there is?” A bored voice rang curtly above them. Buggy looked to Red’s left, tensing at the sight of another vampiric man with glowing eyes. “You’ve really wasted my time, why not just let me kill him now and be done with it?”

He noticed the sword a tad too late, a dark cruciform gilded with gold and encrusted with all kinds of shimmering precious stones. It would have been something Buggy salivated over, if not for the ominous aura leaking from both weapon and man. This must be the Executor. Instinctively he tried to back away, the slight movement ringing loudly as his chains rustled with each twitch. His breath strangled into a gasp as all eyes turned to him.

Red’s burning gaze scorched his skin. Pierced under his brave facade.

A hiss, a clink, a sharp tip facing towards him.

“Fuck!” Buggy all but shrieked. He pulled away the best he could under the weight of the chains, which wasn’t much, but it was an attempt at least. “Get away from me!”

“Come on now, let’s not be shy.” The dark haired man tilted his head, “closer now.”

Vampire man didn’t even move an inch but his presence was enough to pin him in place. The way backward had Buggy bumping against a hard layer of armour that only slammed him forwards. He winced at the bruise surely blooming on his hip, glaring helplessly towards Red.

Do it then. Fuck this, Buggy was ready to pummel in the guy’s face if he survived this. Do it, let me die. I’m fucking sick of this shit.

“Parley.”

And with one word, the court burst into a cacophony of murmurs, chatters for some louder voices. Buggy knew what the word meant. The question was–He watched as Red glanced to his left and right, toward the Executor and his right-man, and frowned as they matched his own stern gaze. Seconds felt like hours with the weight of the cuffs dangling off his wrists. 

“You’re serious?” The Executor’s flat expression curdled slightly. That and the click of his tongue was the most emotive thing Buggy had seen out of him so far. “You are , you utter fool.”

“Parley,” Red repeated himself. “As every prisoner is entitled to.”

Hope bloomed in Buggy’s chest as the Executor scoffed. “Fine.” The man gathered his cape as he stood, heeled boots slamming against the carved marble steps from the throne’s platform. Glowing yellow eyes eerily traced Buggy’s form, a waiting predator denied its prey. He stopped for no one, walking a straight line towards the door without even waiting for Buggy and any of the guards to get out of his way.

He grunted as the joints in his wrists creaked under the weight of the salt-smelling metal, body unconsciously trembling with the relief of living another second, another minute. Behind him, the crowd’s murmur grew louder, as did the rustling of layers of fabric upon fabric grazing themselves. Red’s right-hand took a bored puff of his cigarette as he followed the crowd out. The chatter dwindled, silence spreading out its net until the only sound Buggy could hear was his own nervous breathing and the light clink of Red’s wine-glass against the carved wood of his throne.

“So,” he found himself asking. His voice was steadier than expected, despite the trembling of his lower lip. “Just us then?”

“Just us.” Red echoed. “You can come sit beside me.”

He chose to stay still.

“Well,” Red sighed. “Do what you want.”

“You know you’re such a confusing bastard, right?” He shifted his weight from side to side, listening to the chains clinking as he imagined them as bells. “I still don’t get why you’re doing all this.”

“I’m giving you a Parley to plead your case, and you’re not doing a very good job of convincing me.”

“Rosi told me,” he interjected. “You weren’t…exactly petitioning for me to die. That it was a misunderstanding.”

“But you weren’t happy with me either way, were you?”

“How could I? You were so forceful with trying to keep me here, didn’t even want to hear what I had to say. Like what I want doesn’t matter.”

“What’s wrong with that? I haven’t seen you in decades, why shouldn’t I want you to stay longer?”

“Why not let me go? I could have always visited you again.”

Red’s palm slammed his throne. A loud, sudden bang!   “Didn’t you see the Graveyard of Doors? Haven’t you heard what others have been saying about this place? Wonderland isn’t an easy place you can come and go to. How do you expect to visit again so easily, do tell me.”

“I…”

“Go on,” the noble pressed on, his voice teetering into a growl. “Tell me.”

He stared deep into the Queen’s gaze, steely and sharp. But there was something else within those glowing crimson orbs, a kind of desperation, hunger and sadness. Those were emotions Buggy was familiar with. Rosi’s words slowly echoed in his mind, that Red actually liked him and it’s wholly why the man wanted Buggy to stay . “I…”

The words were shapeless on his lips, each one melting back into his throat. So many things he wished to say, but they all jumbled up as he was about to voice each one.

“Really, is that all you can say?”

“I…” No, no it isn’t. But he just couldn’t find the right things to say, not like this. Not if he had to bare himself in front of the man and admit things he’d kept buried inside for decades.

Eventually, Red must have lost his patience. The man sighed, long and drawn out and full of disappointment. His fingertips drummed against the carved throne as Buggy swallowed. “You’ve been granted a chance to plead your case, yet you’re wasting it. Let’s just get this done and over with.”

“Not with me dead!”

“Does it matter?” Red smiled coolly. “You wanted to leave this place, it doesn’t matter in what shape or state you do it in.”

“H-hey, you can’t be serious.”

“Do you want me to be?” He tilted his head. “Then shall I give you one more chance? Why don’t you use your last guess here to my name?”

He fell into silence.

“Well? I’m tired of waiting. Five seconds.”

“Huh? Five flashy seconds? That’s nowhere near enough!”

“Three.”

He stuttered an inaudible reply, testing each name on his lips. Digging into the trenches of his mind, he tried to feel for one that tasted right.

“Two.”

There had to be clues. The one syllable Rosi uttered out, and then Trebol. He was getting warmer. “Sh–”

“One.”

“Shane!” He shouted out at the top of his lungs, ripping his vocal chords raw. The Queen’s eyes widened, Buggy’s heart hammered. And hope–

Died as Red slammed his hand on his throne.

“You can’t… Red! What about us?” He stuttered out the last of his hope, clinging onto it. There was one more thing that could save him.

“Does it matter? You know you’re only lying to the both of us when you say it like that. Take him!”

The door slammed open with the command, dozens of veiled peons storming in. Outstretched arms grabbed at his robe, his arms, the chain between his cuffs. He’s pulled, dragged , backwards as his heels dug uselessly to the ground. Away from Red. 

He reached out towards Red feverishly, “I-I’m…” sorry . 

His vision swims in a colourful blur between rich silks and decorated hairpieces. Buggy kicked and screamed. But any struggling only made their grip pinch tighter. The nobles of Red’s court followed as he’s pathetically half-carried half-dragged towards the garden, making a pathetic sight.

By the time he calmed down enough to realise the direction they were heading, he froze. It wasn’t the garden Red hosted his tea parties and croquet games. Rather, they were heading toward the very garden Buggy had run off to last time. The high hedge of rose bushes were completely uprooted, revealing an open path towards the plaza.

The place looked brighter, livelier . Any signs of disrepair were wiped off, polished, trimmed. A crowd drew his attention, Buggy had never seen so many Wonderland citizens before. They weren’t the sort who lingered in Red’s court, those who carried themselves with pride and mission. Regular people, townsfolk, the type he was familiar with.

Cheering ensued as they spotted him. The blue-haired guest prisoner of the Queen of Hearts walking down the path. Spreads of nobles fanned out from either side of him, taking their places on designated seats nearer to the podium. And on the centre of it, high above the rest, the Executor.

Those yellow eyes glowed brighter than the midday sun, eyeing each step with scrutiny. Buggy could only sigh and keep on going, never faltering even as he watched the Red Queen join the Executor up ahead. He searched, deep inside of him to where it all went wrong. The beginning, perhaps? Not when he fell down the tunnel of floating items, but the very beginning. 

A boyish smile, a scarless face, two hands held out in an offer for a hug. A hug Buggy denied.

A stolen glance, an offering pressed into his palm as a lingering finger traced the veins on his wrist. A frown as Buggy turned away.

A single hand (not his dominant one, that one’s gone), holding all the treasures he could in one hand, offering the whole world in his palm. A desperate wish left unspoken as Buggy chose to seal his own mouth shut.

And for what?

Red was right, he was just lying to them both. 

And for what? He asked himself for the last time as he reached the top of the stairs, pushed to kneel in front of the Queen of Hearts, shaded under the shadow of the Executor. Like an entertainer, he was presented as the event of the day. Even if the host didn’t look too pleased about the ongoing affairs. Buggy dared himself a glance backward.

Amongst the sea of people, he spots gold. Rosinante, staring up to meet his gaze with an impassive gaze as he patted a pink cat curled around his neck. Sanji, with a happy grin as his hand looped around a green-haired swordsman’s waist. The blond of the white rabbit triplets discreetly playing cards as his brother discreetly ate them in an awful attempt to win.

They were all pieces upon an invisible chess board, Wonderland’s. Buggy was just one of its peons. Perhaps, through such a roundabout time and series of events, he was really meant to be here.

He laughed to himself. If so, then why did he need to struggle all this time? Or was it because he had tried to push away the son so loved by this world, that the world tried to keep them apart, despite their very souls yearning for each other, despite their existence rotating on parallel axes that barely touched.

Then if so…

Buggy turned back to face the Queen of Hearts, his mind clearer than ever. Like a fog lifting upon daybreak. He blinked. He could breathe a little easier now that his heart’s decided. “Hey, Shanks.”

A groan, definitely from the Executor currently face-palming at the Queen’s side. 

“So you remembered?” A bittersweet smile twisted on the noble’s face. “Should it matter this time?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” For lying too much. “I want to stay.”

“Because you’re afraid to die?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, “that and I want to make it up to you.”

Shanks frowned, though Buggy could see the edges of a happier smile tugging at his lips. “Say it.”

He could feel his cheeks redden. “No fucking way,” he hissed through gnashed.

“Come on, you’re starting to be honest. Let’s keep the ball rolling.”

“I–”

“If I may,” a dry voice cuts into them. The Executor glared at them, a light pink dusting his own cheeks as he coughed awkwardly. “Red-Hair, if you’ve finally settled on things, should we wrap things up here. I’m sure a lot of us have better things to do than watch this melodrama.”

Shanks' laughter boomed, head thrown back as tears rolled down his cheeks. “You’re right! Sorry about that.”

“Does it mean you can get these off of me?”

“Nope!”

“Why?!”

“Come on, you gotta say the magic word first.” Fuck, he sounds so annoying now. Like the same old brat Buggy had known from the beginning. “If you’re not gonna say it out loud, then there’s always another way to insure your stay.”

“Yeah, that might be preferable.”

The Queen waved his hand, beckoning a veiled peon to approach. The lacquered box they carried wasn’t dissimilar to the way Shanks presented his gifts. Buggy held his breath, as the peon approached, opened the box to reveal its contents. It was definitely no gem. If he could describe it accurately, it reminded him of a disfigured tomato. Reddish-purple and covered in spirals across its fleshy bumps, it was…ugly. He turned questioningly at Shanks.

“What is…this?”

“A devil fruit.”

Oh. Well, for the first time, he knew what those vague words meant. The problem? He knew what the fruit could do. Shanks really wasn’t joking when he wanted insurance for him to stay. It was either that or admit to the whole kingdom that he loved liked the guy. And Buggy? He’s really not into any public play.

The fire in Shanks’ eyes glimmered brighter as he reached towards the box. The devil fruit was firm, a little soft, exactly like a ripe tomato. As Buggy brought the fruit closer to his lips to take a bite, he only hoped it didn’t taste like one.

Which was…kind of the wrong thing to hope for. Because it was worse. It tasted so, so much worse. Bitter, was his first thought. The kind that rotted his tongue as its slimy flesh slid down his throat. He gagged and choked as he went in for another bite, and then another even as his stomach was trying to reject the foreign object. Perhaps its taste was another reason why it's named as such.

“That’s enough,” a gentle hand slid under Buggy’s jaw, tipping his face up and away from the vile fruit. Shanks looked proud, content at last. “You did well.”

A feverish sheen took over his body, his skin feeling waxy as cold sweat ran down his temples. He wanted to lie down, wanted to feel better against the ache of every part of his body loosening and tightening against each other. As if his body was about to tear itself into a thousand pieces and stitch itself back up. He barely heard the chains loosening, only that his hands felt lighter. Shanks’ warmth draped over him and Buggy felt no shame in seeking it out further, burrowing his face into the crook of the man’s neck.

Buggy limply allowed head tilted, his lip traced by a rough thumb that teasingly dipped into his mouth. Slick saliva pooled as his jaw was pressed open. He gasped when Shanks pressed himself closer, pinning him in place with a searing kiss. A fire lit ablaze in his hammering heart, the good kind this time, and he’s melting into the touch. Like a moth to flame Buggy chased after the feeling, gasping as Shanks responded in kind to fiercely lap at every corner of his mouth. He whimpered as he forced himself to pull away, his lungs heaving for air. Heavy was the touch that pressed against his throat, acquainting with the flutter of his vein. 

Finally, for once, he allowed himself to feel the depths of Shanks’ desire.

And he relished in it.

“Thank you, Buggy.” The Queen’s warm breath ghosted over the tip of his ears. “I love you.”

“Love you too, asshole,” he whispered out as softly as possible. So much that he could barely even hear his own voice. “Now don’t make me say it again.”

“What about our wedding?”

“Excuse me?!”

Chapter Text

“How does it feel, finally having everything you wanted?”

“Don’t ask me that question when you’ve felt such a thing yourself.”

The pair of nobles chuckled over their morning tea. It was springtime, and thus the weather outside cheered with the incoming bloom. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered past the window, ready to do its master’s bidding as they spread across the skies of Wonderland. Rosinante enjoyed watching them pass by, but there was a much more pressing agenda that made him invite the Queen himself into his breakfast parlour.

Said noble looked right at home despite his guest status, dark coat draped over a nearby settee, his loose sleeve tied into a neat knot. His breakfast of choice this time was an open faced sandwich, topped with foie gras and caramelised figs. The White Duchess wrinkled his nose at the scent of the sourdough as he kept himself to his own avocado frittata, poking at the dots of goat cheese sprinkled atop.

“Can’t help but notice you’re missing your neck-scarf.”

“The same way your fiancee is absent and currently whisked for another fitting.”

“Let him enjoy all the finest silks we have. I’ll enjoy taking them off him.”

He winced at the unwilling image surfacing in his mind, choosing to take another bite of his food.

“But, their absence was why we’re here, aren’t we?”

“You’re right.” He’s grateful for the change in topic. The man was indeed perceptive and it was dangerous to undermine him from his ongoing laid-back attitude. “I invited you here because I needed a chat with you without the privy of any unwanted ears. Doffy’s off to town if you must know, accompanying Law to purchase some new trinkets.”

“Good to know we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

“Yes, and it’s precisely why I wanted a quiet, uninterrupted breakfast.” He lifts another forkful of food into his mouth. “I feel it's time to let Doffy be himself again.”

“Isn’t he still the same arrogant prick? The punishment only changed his appearance after all.”

“By that I mean, be human.” Rosi offered his more amicable smile towards the Queen, “I think it’d be much more fun if we could all play croquet with two hands.”

The Queen of Hearts hummed as he turned the request over and over in his hand. “You know once the punishment has been dolled out it can’t be taken back. He won’t fully be the same as he was.”

“I know.” It’s perfect anyways, Rosinante thought to himself. He would not wish for anything more. “As long as he’s got his hands at least.” At least the Queen was laughing at the end of his statement. 

“It’d take a while though, to find the right words to put on the Book of Laws.”

“You’ll find a way.” Neatly, he arranged his cutlery down as he finished scraping the last of his breakfast up. “You did eventually manage to welcome dearest Buggy into Wonderland, despite how long it took.”

“It wouldn’t be possible without the help I’ve got.” Shanks moved to reach the whiskey decanter, pouring a good amount of it into his coffee. The pair shared a knowing look, keeping it for a full three seconds before they burst into earnest laughter. 

Elsewhere in Wonderland, a butterfly lands on Buggy’s shoulder and he barely felt the touch of it as he turned it head and watched its wings morph from red to blue.