#understatement

He wished he could freeze time and stay cuddled with you in his bed, but it was time for action. Shamrock had to get moving otherwise he would miss his window of opportunity. He ensured you were sleeping deeply, then rose and dressed. He grabbed the supplies he’d covertly gathered, strapped the sword to his back, and unlocked the cuff from about your ankle.  Shamrock dressed you in a simple gown, he had no patience for the many stays, buttons, and loops of your normal attire. Besides, simple attire would suit you better shortly. It would be better if there was no evidence of your life with him, including lavish dresses.

He bundled you in one of his old black cloaks and collected you carefully, making sure not to harm you in the process. Shamrock had waited until there was a meeting of the God’s Knights and Father was not in attendance at the castle. He'd told Father that he was to meet his brother would be gone for at least a night. But in truth meeting his twin for the first time was not on his mind in the slightest. Only one singular thought played through his mind on repeat:

Tonight would be the night he lost you .

Shamrock gripped you tighter as he descended down the staircase to the dungeons below the castle. It was a putrid, disgusting place, filled with peasants, slaves, and servants who deserved their filthy surroundings. It was somewhere he would never have brought you under any circumstances, but he himself had been many times. The Celestial Dragons were in the habit of keeping Devil Fruit users who had useful fruits – either to kill them and collect the fruit themselves or to use the services if the situation arose. And Shamrock had found quite a few interesting subjects.

Descending further into the depths, the groans of the dying and injured barely registered on Shamrock’s ears as he found the cell he was seeking, his mind only on one objective. Shamrock used the keys found outside the door and opened it, the aged wooden door opening with a creak. It seemed the Celestial Dragons had largely forgotten about this particular Devil Fruit user, kept in the far recesses of the dungeon.  

The holder of the Memo Memo no mi. 

It pained Shamrock to know you wouldn't remember anything of your time with him. But he didn't want you to miss him during his absence, to wonder why you were cast aside. Furthermore if you were bereft of your memories you would not be able to relay anything of your time with him, even under duress. That alone would keep you from becoming a pawn in someone else's hands to get to him. It was better that he take them from you, to be returned at a later time once he was able to reunite with you. Once you regained your memories all would be well and things would go back to the way they were.

Shamrock brought you into the cell, repulsed that your body had to share space with such a creature. The old man remained at the back of the cell, waiting to be told what to do, his one working eye averted to the floor.

“Come forward,” Shamrock ordered, not releasing you from his hold. He was not going to set you down in this dismal dungeon. The man shuffled forward immediately though slowly, his chains clinking as he moved. Once he reached Shamrock, he bowed low enough to the ground that his scraggly beard met the floor.

“How may I serve you, Young Master?” the man croaked out. Shamrock had thought about his statement many times, but had never spoken the words aloud. He cleared his throat, willing himself to begin the process he would not be able to retreat from.

“Remove all her memories of myself and my family. They go back about six years,” Shamrock ordered. The man straightened as much as his hunched spine would let him.

“I can't - that’s not how the power-” Shamrock took a step closer to the man, allowing his haki to crackle around him. The man’s words died in his throat as Shamrock’s haki built, the red lightning surging with his anger and annoyance.

“Yes, Young Master,” the man said with a bow.

“Begin.”

An hour later and the films of your memories lay piled in the man’s hands. The man had begun with your most recent memories and had worked backwards, to the day that you were sold to the Figarland family. One of the films on top was the day he’d spat in your face, his own younger countenance looming over yours. Shamrock frowned at your memory, he had nearly forgotten his first impression of you. Shamrock had the man place the numerous films in a sack. He'd have to preserve them away from his family home. 

“Close your eyes. Then give me your own memory of this meeting,” Shamrock demanded. The old man dutifully closed his eyes and pulled the memory of Shamrock coming down to the prison. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for now. Once the man was done, Shamrock gathered your precious memories with him and departed, locking the cell once more behind him. He had yet more to do during this night.

He passed by another dark cell on his way back to the main floor. A middle aged woman was within, her pale face withdrawn and sunken. He beckoned to her from outside the cell. You did not need to go within it for this errand.

“Extend your right hand,” he ordered. The woman’s shaking hand reached through the iron bars in the small window the door provided. Shamrock was loathe to let such a creature touch you, but it had to be done. He removed your hood gently before grabbing the woman’s arm. He yanked her as far as he could and pressed her pale, sickly hand to your beautiful face for only a moment before releasing her. The woman inside toppled to the ground but stood up again quickly.

“Show me her visage,” Shamrock commanded. The woman nodded and touched her face with her left hand. Suddenly, there was another you within the cell. You looked just as lovely and radiant as you always did, so much so that Shamrock nearly smiled when he saw the woman pretending to be you. However, the longer he stared at the woman, the more he could tell it wasn’t really you. He could tell that it wasn’t your soul within the woman, she was merely an exact duplicate. 

“Enough,” Shamrock ordered. The woman touched her face with her right hand again, shifting back to her original disgusting form. Shamrock would have use of her later that night, but not right now. 

The bag carrying your memories was heavy on his shoulder as he made his way out of the dungeons and to the stables to see Titus. The horse was pleased to see him and trotted up to Shamrock at first glance. Shamrock set you down gently in a pile of hay before turning his attention to his favorite horse. Shamrock pat him gently on the bridge of his nose, pulling him closer by the bridle. Shamrock leaned his forehead against the horse’s, willing Titus to understand the severity of the situation.

“Titus, I need you to eat this,” Shamrock said, pulling out a Devil Fruit from his bag. It was an orange fruit with white stripes and ears. “After you eat it, you won’t be able to swim.” Titus sniffed the fruit and reared back, offended by the smell. Shamrock grabbed his bridle and pulled his head back into place gently.

“You have to watch over her and this will help. There’s no other way,” Shamrock urged, pushing the fruit closer to Titus’ mouth. The horse looked at Shamrock and bowed its head, almost as if in approval. Titus opened his mouth and bit at the fruit, disdain coloring his expression. 

“Thank you, Titus. We must depart,” Shamrock said, exhaling a breath. His plan didn’t hinge on Titus, but it was a relief to know he would be with you. Shamrock gathered you in his arms, checked that the sword was strapped to his back, and mounted Titus. 

“To the Abyss,” Shamrock ordered.

Shamrock was slightly surprised at the sword pointed at his throat as he came through the Abyss. He had purposely chosen this abandoned manor inhabited by only one man, the one he was seeking. The nobles who previously lived there had an Abyss pentagram installed in the hopes that a God’s Knight might visit. None had until now. 

Shamrock used one of his gloved fingers to move the point of the sword away from his throat. He didn’t think the man he was seeking would be the kind to draw his blade before determining who his opponent was or their motivations. Looking up, he saw his intuition was correct. It was Shanks who had his sword drawn. Ever the fool, he supposed. But where was-

“Who are you?” Shanks demanded like a petulant child. Shamrock resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh heavily at his brother. Only a few moments into their first meeting and Shanks had already disappointed him. Shamrock didn’t answer, merely shifted you to one arm. Dropping Titus’ reins, he used his free hand to push back his hood. 

“Now that you’ve drawn your sword, are you willing to use it?” Shamrock drawled. Shanks had gone silent, his eyes wide as he took in the visage of his brother for the first time. Moments before, Shanks’ face had been filled with suspicion and bravado, but now Shanks’ mouth made a perfect circle as he resheathed his sword.

“Well? Swords aren’t for threats, they’re for actions,” Shamrock continued. Really, did he have to teach his younger brother everything? Had Roger not taught him not to draw his sword without meaning?

“Quite right,” another deep voice intoned. Shamrock looked towards the door of the room and saw a man in a frilly white linen shirt, drinking a glass of wine. Here he was, the man upon whom Shamrock’s plans hinged. 

Dracule Mihawk. 

Mihawk looked over Shamrock and took another large sip of wine. His face betrayed no hint of his emotions, though he did raise an eyebrow at Titus as he flicked his fine tail.

“No horses inside the manor,” he stated. 

“Very well. Titus, change,” Shamrock commanded, inclining his head towards the host. It was a reasonable request, after all. In a moment, the horse shifted into an orange house cat. Mihawk continued to watch as Titus walked around, adjusting to his new size. Shamrock wished he had the time to watch Titus teeter around as a cat, but now was not the moment. 

“You are Red-haired’s brother,” Mihawk noted, taking another sip of the red wine.

“Yes. I have a proposition for you,” Shamrock said, taking a step out of the Abyss towards the swordsman. He had no wish to discuss Shanks, already dismissing his younger brother from his thoughts. Shamrock wanted to move the conversation along to his own ends.

“Are we not gonna talk about this? That I have a brother? A brother I didn’t know about? Are we twins? You look exactly like me but - wait, did you know about me?!?” Shanks asked Shamrock, his hand on his cheek in disbelief. For someone raised on the Pirate King’s ship, Shanks was certainly naive. This time Shamrock did roll his eyes and turned to face his brother.

“Of course I knew. I surmise no one told you. You have an older twin brother, congratulations,” Shamrock said dryly. Shanks’ smile faded from his face for a moment, before he laughed awkwardly and smiled again. Shamrock’s patience grew thin; his brother’s babbling was irritating him when he needed to have a discussion with Mihawk.

“Who’s our Dad? Or our Mom? I’m guessing since you came from the Abyss that they're Celestial Dragons. Gasp! Does that mean I - we’re Celestial Dragons too? I hate those fuckers, but you seem-”

He did not feel like playing games with his twin, he barely cared that Shanks was there. His real purpose in locating Shanks had been a complete coincidence. Shanks happened to be traveling with Dracule, so Shamrock was able to pass off the easy lie that he wished to see his brother. Shamrock suspected Father would be open to such a suggestion, since it would be a natural curiosity for a twin to wish to meet his brother. Shanks continued to talk despite no input from Shamrock thus far.

“What’s your name? You look just like me! Well, except your hair’s longer and - whoa, you’re so pale. Do you ever go out in the sun? Do you like to sail? Who did you bring with you? And what’s that-” Shanks drew nearer to Shamrock, who bristled and held you tighter. 

“Do not touch her,” he stated, his tone ice cold and eyes flashing. He stifled his haki from rising, it wouldn’t benefit him in any way to challenge Shanks right now. Even though his brother was an irritant, Shamrock knew Shanks was much stronger than he let on. There was a reason Mihawk dallied with him, after all. 

“I assume the woman has to do with the proposition,” Mihawk inferred. “Let us go to the parlor to discuss,” he said. Looking between Shanks and Shamrock, Mihawk drained his glass. 

“I will bring more wine.”

A few minutes later Shamrock, Mihawk, and Shanks were all seated in the main parlor. Well, Shamrock and Mihawk were seated – Shanks was pacing back and forth near the door. Shamrock had gently set you down on a couch near his own chair, making sure your head was resting on a pillow. From the angle at which he sat, he could clearly see your beloved face while also angling to protect you should they come to blows. Shamrock was not sure he could defeat Mihawk and Shanks if they fought together, but he would die trying to defend you.

“I am Figarland Shamrock,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass that Mihawk had provided. Mihawk inclined his head.

“I am Dracule Mihawk. Welcome to Kuraigana Island.”

“I have need of your services,” Shamrock began slowly, trying to sound less haughty and demanding. He was requesting something from Mihawk, which was not something he’d ever had to do before. Having to ask for help was demeaning and not an experience he enjoyed.

“Which services?” Mihawk asked, setting his chin in his hand as he crossed his legs in the chair. “I am no mercenary for hire,” he continued. 

“Do you need my services?” Shanks asked brightly, turning to come closer to Shamrock. Enough of the fool, Shamrock thought. It was time he learned his place, he was irritating beyond compare. Shamrock set his glass of wine down on the low table and rose to stand behind his chair. He looked his brother over with assessing eyes before smiling. Shanks took the gesture as encouragement and smiled widely at his brother. 

“You?” Shamrock said with a mocking laugh, his eyes flashing with malice. “You were a simple convenience. If you had not been traveling with Dracule at this time, I would have told Father I wished to fight him as an excuse to come to his manor. It is laughable to think I would leave anything of value in your hands.” His voice was quiet, but his words cut like a whip as he advanced towards his brother. To his credit, Shanks did not retreat but stood firm as his brother stalked towards him, his sunny smile quickly fading. Shamrock’s heels clacked against the cold marble tile with every step he took towards his twin until they stood inches apart, face to face.

“You are an aimless, drunken fool. Completely useless to any and all. Cast aside at every turn - by your Captain, by your sworn brother, by your former crew, by your own blood relations. I have no doubt that Dracule will become the World’s Strongest Swordsman. One can see the desire burning within, that he will manifest his will and bend reality to his making. But you? Even if you were to become one of the Emperors of the Sea – nay, the King of Pirates himself - you would remain worthless. Leave my treasure with you?” Shamrock laughed, a cruel sound leaving his throat as Shamrock’s wry grin twisted into a scowl. Despite his impressive strength, Shanks flinched as Shamrock flicked the brim of the straw hat on his brother’s head.

“I would rather kill her myself.”

“So you wish for the woman to remain here,” Mihawk intoned several minutes later. Shanks had excused himself and ran off like the immature child he was. Shamrock was glad for his absence. Mihawk had watched Shanks closely after Shamrock had chastised him but did not come to Shanks’ defense. Shamrock did not care to speculate why. Mihawk had resumed talking not long after.

“I do,” Shamrock agreed. “She has no memories of her time with me. She is adept at nearly every task and independent by nature. She is incredibly intelligent and diligent,” Shamrock continued, proud to state your superior qualities.

“And why should I agree to such a request? I am no babysitter,” Mihawk drawled, resting his free hand on his knee. But Shamrock knew he had Mihawk’s interest from the moment he had appeared in the estate. 

“Because I have something you want and would not otherwise be able to acquire,” Shamrock replied simply, finally getting to the heart of the matter. Shamrock had surmised that someone like Mihawk would not be swayed by might or money. It was one of the many reasons why Shamrock had selected the principled man as your would be guardian. No, money couldn't buy Mihawk's protection. But there was one thing Mihawk desperately wanted, that he could not hide his unbridled desire for.

Yoru.

The sword had been strapped to Shamrock’s back from the second he’d come into the manor, the supreme grade sword glinting in the light of the fire. Mihawk’s eyes had drifted to it but once, but that was enough to confirm his interest. Yoru had been passed through generations of the Figarland family for centuries, but you were worth more.  

“I will give you Yoru in exchange for your vow that my woman will remain here for as long as needed. You will do everything in your power to protect her. You will tell no one of her existence. You will share no information of how she came to be here nor of me – with her or anyone else. Titus will remain to watch over her. If the terms are not amenable to you, I shall depart with her forthwith and leave you to enjoy your company,” Shamrock leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, the perfect picture of indifference. Inside, he felt like there was an animal gnawing at his bones. He needed Mihawk to agree, this was the linchpin for all his hard work.

“Should I agree, Yoru will be mine.”

“Yes.”

“And how will you explain its absence? Surely a sword of this caliber would be missed even by Celestial Dragons,” Mihawk mused. His demeanor was calm but his fingers were now gripping his knee tightly.

“I will tell my Father that I brought the woman, Titus, and Yoru as an introductory gift for my brother, as a means to show him the delights of Mariejois. I will say we shared the woman, he did not secure Titus correctly, and he took Yoru with him to his ship. What he did with the sword thereafter, I do not know. Perhaps he gave it to a rival, or a paramore,” Shamrock stated, setting his wine glass down on the table. Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly. Interesting, Shamrock thought. He had hit a mark with his words, though he wasn’t intentionally bating the swordsman. 

“You are making your brother out to be quite the heel,” Mihawk said, his tone dry. Shamrock shrugged.

“He is a useful tool at this juncture.” 

“You understand I am most often absent from the estate. I return here seldomly, and use this facility only as a place of refuge and rest.”

“I understand. The humandrills will keep others out and Titus will watch over her. Your reputation protects the manor and if you are not here, no one will bother coming near.”

“And the Marines?” Mihawk asked, arching a brow. Shamrock smirked.

“They answer to me.” There was a beat of silence between the two men. Shamrock suspected that neither of them wanted to show their hand and express their strong desire for the other to agree. As the one who was stipulating the terms, Shamrock would not lose an advantage by continuing the conversation.

“Do I have your word then?” Shamrock asked quietly, looking over at the silent swordsman. Mihawk’s golden eyes looked into Shamrock’s brown ones.

“You do.”

Once Mihawk agreed to harbor you, Shamrock handed over the sword and went to settle you in a bedroom. There were many to choose from and he tried to find the one that was the nicest and in working order. Finally he found one that was not dissimilar to his own, a coincidence that pleased him. He laid you down on the bed and watched your peaceful face as you breathed deeply. Shamrock watched you for quite some time, unable to leave your side. He wouldn’t see you for many months, possibly years. He did not know the circumstances under which you’d be reunited but he knew one thing for certain.

He would come back for you.

A dreamy smile graced your features as you sighed in your sleep. A smile reflexively crossed Shamrock’s own and he raised his hand to cup your cheek. He leaned down over you, his hair covering you the way he knew you loved. If you had been awake, your hands would have wrapped themselves in it, pulling him to you for kissing. But alas, that was not to be the case. Still, Shamrock lingered, setting his forehead against your own.

“Please do not hate me. I saw no other way. I will return for you,” he whispered. You would have no memories of him, but he held a naive hope that some part of your soul would remember his parting words to you.  

Shamrock pressed his lips to your own in a final kiss. He hadn’t cried since he was a young child, taught not to show his weaknesses by his Father’s hand. And yet a tear landed on your cheek as Shamrock pulled away from you one last time.

“Goodbye, my love.”

“After I am gone, destroy the Abyss. I trust you are capable of doing so,” Shamrock said, his affect flat as he walked back to the room containing the Abyss. He was trying to hide the emotions roiling inside him, his anguish at having to leave the only person he loved in the hands of another. If Mihawk suspected anything, he did not mention it.

“Are you not curious to meet Shanks?” Mihawk asked, his eyes trained only on the sword in his hands. He was testing its weight and balance of the sword, surely finding it as perfect as its reputation suggested. Shamrock felt indifferent at leaving the priceless heirloom in the hands of a pirate, he could always buy another priceless sword. You, however, were irreplaceable. His thoughts returned to you as they always did, before he remembered Mihawk had asked him a question.

“No.” 

Mihawk did not reply and did not press the issue further. Shamrock might revisit his brother if Shanks ever became someone worthy of meeting. 

A few hours later and the night was finally over. Shamrock deposited the severed head of the woman on Father’s desk as he had been tasked. The sticky, coagulating blood was pooling over the fine desk but that was not Shamrock’s concern. The user of the Mane Mane no mi looked exactly like you, her face frozen in terror from the moment Shamrock had slain her. Even though he knew it was not truly you, that you were safe and hidden on Kuraigana Island under the golden eyes of Mihawk, he still couldn’t bear to look at it any further.

Shamrock hadn’t just killed the Mane Mane no mi slave in the dungeons. He’d killed every single person within the putrid cells. He didn’t want anyone to bear witness to his visitation with you or that Shamrock had the slave take on your visage. He’d also killed all the servants, attendants, and slaves who had ever seen you. Shamrock wanted no loose ends and killing everyone was the only means by which that could be accomplished. The castle was bathed in red, blood splattered down every hall and room. He’d buy some more slaves and servants in the morning, it would be a good lesson in what happened when Shamrock was displeased. 

Shamrock would tell Father that his meeting with Shanks had not gone as desired and he had returned in a foul mood. It was an understandable excuse since Shamrock truly had nothing positive to say about his brother. Father might be annoyed since there were some interesting Devil Fruit users in the dungeon, but he himself had done the same a few times in Shamrock’s memory. 

No, everyone there had to die so that you could live. 

A/N: Shanks lovers, I know. I know! I KNOW! Yes, Shamrock emotionally decimated him but Shanks will have his moment I promise. I love Shanks too, I'm not gonna let that slide.

Also this is similar to the canon timeline but diverges here. Mihawk doesn't move to Kuraigana until much later in OP but here I have him using it as a base in his early 20s. Things will diverge from canon from here on out but I hope you still enjoy it :) .