@godvalleys (Corazon, when he's undercover// Rosinante)
Fate had a cruel sense of humor as she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The blonde woman had been staying in a small town when the Donquixote Pirates descended upon it. Chaos erupted as people fled through the streets, desperately trying to escape. She had tried to do the same, but the panicked crowd swallowed her whole, leaving her trapped in the confusion. Then her luck somehow got even worse. Doflamingo learned about the brand burned into her back, the Hoof of the Flying Dragon, the mark carried by former slaves of the Celestial Dragons. The revelation had delighted him. As a fallen Celestial Dragon himself, he found the idea of owning a former slave amusing, and just like that, Stella became another possession within the Donquixote Family.
A little over a week had passed since then. Stella sat quietly outside her cage, a metal collar fastened around her neck. A chain connected it to a nearby post, giving her just enough freedom to sit in the shade while she waited for someone to bring her food. The children of the family often came to stare at her as though she were some strange animal on display. Other times, she was dragged around on a leash and treated like a pet for their amusement. It was humiliating, but she endured it for now. Today, however, she had been left alone for longer than usual. If they had forgotten about her, she certainly wasn't going to complain. The less attention she attracted, the better. She spent every quiet moment watching, listening, and learning. Eventually, an opportunity would present itself, and when it did, she intended to be ready.
Movement caught her attention. A man she didn't recognize approached, carrying a tray with a bowl of watered-down soup and a chunk of stale bread. Hardly a feast, but after a week of captivity, the female wasn't about to be picky. She offered him a warm smile, "Thank you very much, sir." Over the past week, she had made it a point to learn about the people around her. Information was valuable. Doflamingo stood at the center of it all, a man who viewed himself as something above ordinary people because of his past as a Celestial Dragon. He carried himself like a god among insects, but Stella knew better. She had seen what true monsters looked like.
Four years of slavery had taught her that titles, power, and noble blood meant nothing. The Celestial Dragons had considered themselves gods, too, and in the end, they were merely cruel people hiding behind authority. Doflamingo was no different. Surviving him would not be easy, but Stella had endured worse. She had survived four years of hell before being discarded and left for dead. Stella had lived, and she would survive this nightmare as well.
