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Shamrock ran up the stairs of the Shangara temple, quickly catching up to the older knights before racing ahead of them to be the first in the prayer room.
"Careful kid, you’re going to fall over and hurt yourself!" One of the knights warned him, but those words couldn’t stop the overly ambitious child.
"Ah, leave him be. I heard Sommers and the others were sent out this morning to bring back Garling's boy," an older knight chimed in and Shamrock heard the rest of them either sigh or laugh.
"Again? I wonder how long it takes before the Great One finally puts an end to this madness. One Figarland heir is enough trouble, we do not need two of them," another pointed out and earned a round of murmurs.
Shamrock slammed the door to the prayer room shut. He couldn’t bear to hear the chatter of the knights any longer, all their words filled with malice and their laughter cold as ice. None of them knew how much it hurt to spent their days waiting and hoping for a miracle that would never come — a brother who was stolen from him and couldn’t be returned.
The young boy gazed up at the paintings on all the wall, every inch was covered by a portrait of a former God, all those Celestials who had already ascended to the true heaven and, so the nobles believed, were watching over them from the afterlife. But there was more than that, on the left wall was a mural, depicting the grand arrival of the Great One on the Red Line. That day, this place had truly become the Land of the Gods.
Here, in peaceful silence that Shamrock found nowhere else not even at his own house, he knelt down and bowed his head in prayer.
"Dear Great One, please help the knights bring back Shanks," he began, his voice wavering, not from uncertainty but exhaustion. "I- … I miss him a lot. I promise I will train really hard so I can be a good big brother for him! I will finish all my meals, obey father and I'll never allow Cerberus to eat my school work again."
Keeping his hands folded, Shamrock locked eyes with the large serpent flying above the mural, its painted red eyes seemed to stare back at him. Not only did it make him feel watched, but also seen. It brought back a faint glimmer of hope, the strength to continue waiting for just a few more hours until the knights would walk up the steps of the temple with Shanks safe and sound.
"Thank you, Great One," he whispered and pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor to show his gratitude to the God who had listened to his pleads. "You know- I wonder what Shanks' favorite food is … do you think he likes lobster as much as I do?"
His only answer was silence followed by the muffled laughter of the knights in the next room.
It was terribly lonely to grow up as a single twin. At first Shamrock hadn’t been too bothered by it, the thought of having to share his bed and all his toys sounded more like a punishment than a reward. As he got older, he began to feel empty inside. Like a part of him was missing. A puzzle piece he had lost somewhere in the endless halls of the manor, gone forever without a trace except a faint memory.
When he closed his eyes and tried really hard, little Shamrock could recall a certain smell. It was very familiar and soothing, much like his own hair after a long bath, but different enough that it couldn’t possibly be his own. Shanks. It had to be Shanks.
"Shanks …," Shamrock mouthed his brother's name like a prayer. "Please come back."
It was all he could say before a loud sob escaped his lips and startled him. It had come from somewhere deep within, followed by a single tear that he wiped away in panic. He couldn’t hide away in here all day and he didn’t wish for the older knights to make fun of him for being a crybaby. He was supposed to be strong, the next in line to be a Supreme Commander of the Knights of God! And a great brother, yes, that was so much more important to Shamrock than any rank could ever be.
There was a knock on the door.
"Shamrock?" His father's voice rang out and the boy immediately got back on his feet and rubbed all the remaining tears into his sleeve.
"Yes, sir!" He replied like a good soldier and opened the door for him.
"Shouldn’t you be outside and training with the other boys? You will fall behind if you waste time," father warned him and shoved Cerberus into his hands, "Hurry before the lesson starts."
"Yes, sir," Shamrock repeated and headed towards the training grounds, after a few steps he stopped and turned his head towards his father, "Uhm, Sir? Do you think the others will come back with Shanks today?"
Father suddenly broke eye contact with him and left without another word, leaving Shamrock alone on the temple stairs, wondering why the man who never showed a hint of weakness couldn’t bear to think of his son.
Out of habit, Shamrock grabbed his biceps and squeezed it hard until it hurt. That's where the mark was, it stung worse than any other part of his body when he tried to hurt himself. It was pointless, no amount of punishment would bring Shanks back sooner. It did help him to take his mind of things though. Focused in on the pain, he joined the other children for their training lesson.
A few of them were training alongside their siblings or cousins. It seemed that everyone had someone they could rely on, someone who'd catch them if they fall and cover their backs. It went beyond fighting too. Shamrock often watched the children play from his bedroom window, quietly mourning that his father never allowed him to join them.
He was told that he was raised to be a lone wolf, that all Figarlands were wolves and the rest of the nobles and humans were sheep who feared their wrath. Shamrock didn’t know if it was true, but he had sworn to never go against his father's orders so he played alone instead.
In his room he had put aside a few toys that he had received for Christmas and his birthday. It was an entire box of untouched dolls, figurines, marbles and plushies. All reserved for his little brother, so he would have his own toys when he returned. Surely those filthy pirates had never gifted him anything! He would be so grateful to play with something nice.
While Shamrock wielded Cerberus and dueled the other boys under the more or less careful watch of an older knight, he could no longer take his mind off Shanks. He dreamed about running through the rose gardens with him, riding upon Cerberus' back through Marie Geoise and becoming knights together as they grew up. It helped to keep the tears at bay.
Distracted by his daydreams, a boy landed a strong hit on the back of his head and Shamrock fell into the dirt. All the kids laughed until their teacher swiftly got them to shut up.
Embarrassed and with his uniform ruined, the young knight ran away. His teacher couldn’t grab him quick enough, neither could his peers catch up to him. He didn’t even know where he was running until he was on the streets of the holy city and decided that he needed to get out. Fast. Anywhere was better than this place full of people who looked at him with such disgraceful pity that he felt like a filthy stray who didn’t belong.
It wasn’t fair! Shamrock just wanted to be like everyone else. If having a friend, a single person out there who hugged him when he was sad and played with him when he was happy, meant that he must be a sheep, then by the heavens Shamrock would have rather been born a ram than a wolf.
His feet lead him to the cliffs, right where the tall mountains of the Red Line ended and stones fell deep into the sea below. Shamrock sat down at the edge so he could watch them crumble away and wish he was one of those stones. Just so he could follow Shanks into the underworld and save him.
His hair got caught in the sea breeze and covered his face — all he knew about his twin was that he had the same color as he did. He wondered if he wore his hair short or long, tied up into a braid or ponytail, did pirates even do their hair at all?
"They’re animals," that's what father had told him when Shamrock wanted to know more about the people who had stolen his twin, "They have no culture or morals, nothing that binds them together except for greed and a thirst for blood."
"Then why won’t they give back Shanks?" The boy wondered and his father sighed.
"To spite us, that's all there is to it. Never be fooled into thinking that these disgusting criminals care for your brother, he's a slave to them, a means to an end," father continued, sounding angrier with every word.
Shamrock nodded along, soaking up all the hatred his father harbored for these mortals who spent their day sailing across the sea to kill and plunder as they pleased. He believed it, all of it, and it revolted him to hear that these rats were making Shanks work. He was a celestial, they should have been kneeling and kissing his feet, not forcing him to scrub the deck.
His tears fell into the depths below. Though the clouds made it impossible to see the water, if he remained quiet, he could hear the waves crashing against the Red Line in a steady rhythm. It was then that Shamrock noticed how tired he was. Tired of waiting, tired of fighting and oh, so tired of running away from all that troubled him.
He felt the wet grass underneath him and lay down, wrapping his arms around Cerberus for some much needed comfort. Unable to go back and face his father after running from his training, all that was left for him to do was to sleep. At least the hours would go by faster, surely when he opened his eyes again, Shanks would be standing right in front of him …
In his dreams Shamrock saw a boy on a ship, surrounded by many other men and to his surprise — another blue haired child who seemed to argue with him. Unable to move or speak, the young knight became a silent bystander as he watched the men pick up the red-haired boy and swing him around, much like a father would do with their child. How ridiculous, this couldn’t be real, pirates had no heart or soul.
"Roger! Please! Let me down!" A familiar voice called out amidst the laughter, Shamrock tried to get closer but he was frozen in place.
He squeezed his eyes together, desperate to see his blurry vision much more clearer.
Shanks! The boy being swung around by this filth of a man was Shanks! And he was smiling, it was hard to make out his face but from what little that Shamrock saw, he looked just like him. Maybe a bit dirtier.
But why wasn’t he terrified? Why were these animals playing with him?
Shamrock felt his heart race. If Shanks didn’t want to be saved, if he didn’t know that he was a God deserving of more than wallowing in the mud, then it was no wonder he hadn’t been rescued yet.
The young knight awoke with the harrowing revelation that if what he saw was to be believed, Shanks might be upset when the knights would come to bring him back home. He needed to be there to calm him down and show him how wonderful Marie Geoise was.
He sat up, his head hurt and the world around him spun in circles. The first thing he noticed was that the grass had ruined his uniform beyond recognition, the second thing was the simple fact that the sun was setting and a pair of horns blared in the distance.
Horns? The knights!
His vision was all but forgotten at the promise of running straight into Shanks' arms and finally being reunited. All worries and fears cast aside, Shamrock jumped over fallen trees and let his clothes be torn up by bushes just to get back to the temple a little faster. Cerberus growled at him, a few quick strokes on its handle helped to calm the hound down.
"Not now, Cerberus, we don’t want to scare Shanks!" Shamrock told his blade and made it out of the woods looking more than rough.
The streets of the holy city were quiet aside from a few nobles who were out late to attend various galas and parties, all of them were quite boring in the boy's eyes and he didn’t even bother to greet the saints. They hurled insults at him from afar, but he couldn’t care less — his whole life was about to change!
Adrenaline pumped through his body, he was already out of breath when he turned around the last corner before he saw the temple. It was located in the middle of the city, not only knights came here to pray but other celestials as well. Inside one of the rooms was a huge summoning circle, everyone who travelled to the underworld returned here.
In his blind euphoria, Shamrock paid little attention to the steps and fell down, over and over again, it was as if he was climbing a tall mountain with his knees bruised and his feet hurting. He only had eyes for the entrance to the temple, the knights would come out any minute now! The guards protecting the temple blew their horns a third time and the young boy broke down in front of them.
"Saint Figarland!" One of them said and tried to help him back on his feet, but Shamrock shoved him away to get up on his own.
"Shanks! I have to see Shanks! Are the knights back yet? Let me through!" He yelled at them — to no avail.
"We have orders from the Supreme to guard the temple, no one is permitted to enter until-" the guard was cut off by the heavy doors of the temple opening.
Any second now, Shanks would come out, following the knights or being carried in their arms, so Shamrock could greet him and bring him to their room to play! He looked down at himself, how disheveled he looked, father would have beaten him for it, surely. Hopefully his twin wouldn’t mind.
Sommers was the first to step out, a bloody wound on his forehead that was slowly healing and his uniform jacket cut up by what Shamrock could only assume was an axe. With his head hanging low and the left side of his glasses broken, he sighed when he saw the red-haired boy and patted his head.
"Sommers!" Shamrock yelped and ran after him, following him down the stairs until the older man stopped and grabbed his shoulder. "Hey! Let me go! Tell me where Shanks is!"
The knight shook his head.
"Not this time, Shammy," he told him quietly, sounding like his pride had been hurt.
Those words however, hardly registered in Shamrock's mind. Still determined to meet his twin, he freed himself from Sommers' grasp and slipped past the guards, right into the temple.
What he saw inside left him shivering, he couldn’t bear to take another step—
Maffey, a tall woman with wild hair who served alongside his father, was hunched above one of the younger knights who had been given the mark only a few months ago. He looked terrible, his arms cut up and one of his legs missing. How could this happen? Had the Great One forsaken them?
And yet, against all odds and the horror lying before him, Shamrock forced himself to approach Maffey. She raised her head and took off her sunglasses, revealing the tired eyes she had been hiding. She looked at him with the same pity as all the other nobles.
" … is Shanks-?" Shamrock whispered, his quiet voice echoing in the temple.
"No," Maffey answered and the young knight wished for the walls of the temple to crumble and bury him alive, "Not this time, I'm sorry, Shams."
Shamrock couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. He took a single raspy breath, then the tight reins he held onto his emotions with were cut off. He ran away, like he always did, ignoring Maffey's attempt to stop him.
The cliffs, he needed to get back to the cliffs and find a way down. If the knights couldn’t save his brother, then he would have to do it himself. With Cerberus at his side, he believed he could do it.
How foolish he was, how utterly ridiculous all his hopes and prayers had been, all the sacrifice and pain meant nothing in the end if he was alone in this world. Another day spent living without Shanks was a day wasted. After all, hadn’t his father spent his entire life telling him that he was destined to be a big brother?
Every day, he had told him about Shanks. His first memory was father holding him in his arms while cursing at the other knights for how incompetent they were for failing to defeat a few lousy pirates.
This time, Shamrock didn’t get very far. Father stood at the bottom of the stairs, glaring at him above the rim of his glasses. Red eyes shimmering as dangerous as his own, a bad omen for what was to come. Hiding his tears was useless now, father had already seen them. And the filth on his clothes … but strangely enough Shamrock wasn’t afraid of a punishment.
He slowed down and came to a halt in front of his father, looking up at his tall, imposing figure.
Father raised his hand, fearing that he'd be slapped, Shamrock hid his face behind his arms although he knew that it was forbidden. He waited for the painful sting of father's hand … one that never came.
Instead, father wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. It was rather short and a bit awkward, but Shamrock found some comfort in this rare moment of affection.
"You have to be strong," father told him and roughly patted his back, "One day Shanks will return and you‘ll need to be a good example for him."
"Y- yes, sir," Shamrock sobbed, rubbing his teary eyes.
Father didn’t know what else to say, so he took a hold of Shamrock's hand and walked him home. And although neither of them spoke throughout the entire way, in their silence they suffered together. Helping the young boy to feel a little less lonely.
[ … ]
Shamrock lay awake all night, tossing and turning, staring wide eyed at the empty side of his bed and the box of toys hidden away in the shadows.
He slipped out of bed and walked over to the window, looking out at the peaceful scenery of Marie Geoise at night.
"Shanks," he spoke quietly and tapped his fingers against the glass, "Maybe you’re looking at the same stars as I am, or do pirates go to bed early? I wish I knew, father won’t tell me … please come back soon, okay?"
With that, Shamrock curled up under his blanket, hugged his pillow tight and clung onto what remained of his hope.