When Shanks woke up, his head hurt immensely, which wasn't a real surprise considering the amount of whiskey he had downed to be able to forget and find some sleep. He wished he couldn't remember the accusations that had left his lips, the swirl of magic and the pain that had confirmed his inability to open Benn's necklace, but he could see the events clearly in front of his inner eye. Nothing had gone as planned, and now it was added up by a hangover. Brilliant.
He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and looked around the room - his old room, where he had lived for three years. There were still the old pictures on the walls, happy faces smiling down on him. A young looking Roger, his arm slung over Rayleigh's shoulder. His grin as wide as it had always been, and the mustache seemingly grinning as well. Shanks had taken the photo when he had been ten. It was the only one that had worked out. The others had been blurred because neither Shanks nor Roger or Rayleigh had been able to stand still for long.
Next to the photo was a map, drawn by Ray. It showed great parts of the known land, even though there had been discovered even more now. Shanks knew his old teacher could draw an accurate map of the world as it was known today, but he kept this one for sentimental reasons. Ray had drawn it for him on their big journey with Roger, as part of one of his lessons. They had seen places no one else he knew or had heard about had ever been to, they had traveled the sea, and they had landed on that one island people spoke of as if it was an illusion, a dream only. It wasn't, as Shanks knew himself. He had seen it, but… it didn't matter. Things got lost after Roger's death, knowledge died with him. But Shanks knew he wanted to see the ocean again. Sometimes, in silent moments like this one, he wondered if there was more to the world than what he had seen with Roger. He wondered if the world went on, behind that massive body of water that was called the great sea. He probably would never know, because his duties as a Yonko kept him chained to this land. He couldn't just abandon the people that trusted him to keep them safe.
Roger had never wanted to die, Shanks knew that much. But he knew life wasn't a bowl of cherries, and things didn't always go as planned. After those many months, years of travel, when Roger had become High King, Shanks had stayed with Rayleigh and Shakky in a small but comfortable house in Manoas. It never had bothered him - he had visited the castle more often than he could count. Roger had just wanted to keep him out of trouble, so officially he was just a worker's boy. Unofficially he knew the castle better than everyone, even better than Roger. He had strolled through the corridors, without people taking notice of him. The hidden rooms, the concealed doors, Shanks was sure he knew all of them. When he had been a young boy flipping tapestries aside in search of secret passageways, he had believed things would stay like this forever. Now it was his own castle.
His left hand pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and a golden armlet appeared. It was heavy, similar to the metal most of the slave's necklaces were made out of, but this one wasn't holding the cruel magic that bound a human to another, just because their luck had left them. In the middle of the shimmering gold was a red stone, surrounded by engravings, old words written down in a language people had forgotten in the last hundreds of years. It was called Poneglyh, or so Roger had told him. He had also told Shanks this metal held strength, but until now it had only been a reminder of what still had to be achieved.
A single tear rolled down Shanks' cheek as he tried to keep the memories at bay. He had promised to carry on Roger's legacy, a promise not even Rayleigh knew of. He had promised to find the one person that would reveal the lost century, a forgotten history, but sometimes he doubted he could succeed. He couldn't even open a simple necklace, how could he ever think of making a change?
Fifteen was too young an age to claim a throne or a crown or whatever people thought was claimed when someone became the ruler of a large area. Shanks had never really cared, he had thought he had time. He had thought Roger would once more explain what he wished him to do when he was older, so he could understand it better. When he had accepted that armlet and made a promise he wouldn't break, he had thought time would show him what to do, where to go, but instead there had been an execution, and Rayleigh had taken him to safety. A safety that had been supposed to be this room, this bar Shakky had opened, which had been a try to build some kind of stability in times of grief and uproar. Nevertheless Shanks had been attacked, which had led to the three scars over his left eye. He knew who had attacked him, but he could only guess at the reason. The excuses Ray had made were just that, mere excuses, and Shanks knew it was more than the talk about people not wanting him to claim Roger's status. He had only been fifteen, and far from being a threat.
When Shanks turned eighteen, he had claimed the title as a Yonko. There had been people who had served gladly under Roger and remembered the worker's boy with the vivid red hair. Rayleigh, who had once been first minister under Roger, had fought hard to retain at least a part of the territory, even though Whitebeard, Big Mom and Kaidou had divided big parts among themselves. Shanks had started out small, but fought his way up. Now he was equal to the other Yonko, or at least people believed it. He wasn't sure he believed in himself like others did.
In those three years between Roger's death and him claiming the title as Yonko, Shanks had lived in this bar, serving drinks, washing dishes and helping out Shakky. This small room, with its bed, the photos and the map on the wall, the desk and a wardrobe had been his safe haven. There would probably still be some clothes in the wardrobe, even though he doubted they still fit. He was taller than he had thought he would become when he was fifteen, and nowadays only a few people matched him in height. A lump formed in Shanks' throat. Benn did, the man was minimum a hand taller than himself.
Instead of walking down a road of long past memories and thoughts that made him feel miserable, Shanks rubbed his temples and averted his eyes from the map. He craved a good's night rest, even though he had just gotten up. But he wanted to get back to his castle, better today than tomorrow, though the growing darkness of evening made him realize the two elders probably wouldn't let him ride. Not when it would be way past midnight when he arrived at home.
Some spoken words lit the candles in the room, and Shanks looked in his bag for his second pair of trousers. The other one needed to be laundered properly before he could wear it again. Damn coffee. When he was fully dressed he sighed and headed for the stairs. Yonko or not, he knew what it meant to run a bar, and after all the trouble he had caused Rayleigh and Shakky, he could at least help them out since it was too late to leave for home anyway. It was the busiest time of the day, now. He just hoped no one would recognize him as the Yonko he was, but thankfully the clientele that usually frequented Shakky's bar would rather bet on heaven to fall down than believe a Yonko would serve them.
His hand shoved the white fabric of his sleeve back down, covering all evidence of a once spoken promise, before he made his way downstairs. Hopefully, his headache would vanish soon.
The noise from the bar couldn't be ignored and Shanks wished someone would just shoot him dead, before the ache in his temples managed to killed him. If sleep would come easier to him, he would probably drink less, but nightmares were a constant reminder of the past. It was either waking up screaming or drinking half a bottle of booze. He had chosen the latter as the lesser devil and lived with the constant hangovers. Sleeping peacefully had been even harder after the conflict he had just had in the morning.
From behind the bar he could see Shakky scurry through the considerable number of guests, carrying a tray with bottles and glasses in her hand. Ray must be in the kitchen, as Shanks couldn't spot him. He moved his shoulders in circles in a try to get rid of the tension, but it didn't really help, so he just started making his way through the tables to collect the empty tankards.
The bar was lit with several oil lamps, hanging from the wooden pillars or on the walls. In a corner were couches arranged around small round tables to relax and chat. On one of them he had sat in the morning with the two others, when everything had escalated. There was a small raised area where people could dance, too, though it was almost empty at the moment. The rest of the space was filled with tables and bar stools, all made from rustic, dark wood. Wide linen cloth spanned over the ceiling, creating a feeling of divided areas even though it was just one open room. Maybe the bar was a little rugged, and definitely not the cleanest, but it was comfortable. To be honest, the area Shakky and Ray had decided to settle in wasn't the safest or wealthiest anyway, so neatness didn't matter to most guests. When he had been younger, he had wondered why they had chosen exactly this place to live, but now Shanks knew it had been for his own safety. Many people avoided places where they could be stabbed from behind, the sole reason being greed.
People would say a bar like this wasn't the best place to keep a boy like him safe, but soon after they had opened, the place had obtained the reputation of being even more dangerous than the streets if you didn't pay, which was true. No one ever managed to swindle Shakky without her finding out and taking the double amount of bellies, which was the currency in the known land. The 'Rip-off Bar' hadn't gotten its name without cause.
Picking up several empty bottles with ease, he tried to remember all the randomly called-out orders for new booze, without mixing anything up. Being hungover didn't help. At least it was a little comfort to know that ninety percent of the people here drinking themselves into oblivion would have one tomorrow, too.
Shanks reached the bar again, dropped the bottles into the bin, and started to prepare the many drinks. He was a decent barkeeper, most of the things he had learned over the three years he had worked here on a daily basis never forgotten. When he reached for lemon syrup to give a whiskey sour a last final note, soft hands touched his temples. He closed his eyes, feeling quiet, easing words floating through his head, and his pulsing headache slowly started to fade. But before the spell was completely finished, Shanks pushed the hands away and turned to face those sad, brown eyes that belonged to Shakky.
"Don't," he mumbled with a low voice, and when he put his hand down again, his eyes caught a quick flash of the golden owner's ring. Pain, like a slash with a sharp dagger, cut through his heart, reminding him again why this misery was his and his alone. "Don't take what isn't yours."
"Shanks...," Shakky started to protest, but his expression was enough to keep her from voicing her objections. Taking away his headache was a nice gesture, but it had cost her a certain amount of energy. As Shakky was no trained doctor, she certainly would feel at least part of the pain herself, and that wasn't something Shanks wanted. It was his fault alone things had ended like they had and he would not allow her to suffer more than she already did.
"You're no hero, so don't act like one," a dark voice said from beside him. Rayleigh's voice was filled with accusation, but Shanks could see the concern in his eyes. He sighed and turned to face his old teacher. "I'm not, I just want to savor my hangover a little while longer," he smirked with sarcasm glinting in his eyes. Hero? Rayleigh was right, he was the last person who should be considered a hero - he was just trying to do his bloody job!
"I need to talk with you, let's get out of here for a minute," Ray just replied without responding to the snide comment. The way he let those words sound, Shanks knew he wouldn't accept a no, so he quickly informed Shakky of who had ordered what, and followed the older man through the tables and stools to the exit.
The cold air slapped him awake and a sudden sting bolted through Shanks' head, accompanied by a sudden dizziness that dared to kick him off his feet. His hand darted up to rub at his temple, but before it could touch the skin, Ray had snatched his wrist. The skin felt rugged against his own.
"What are you doing?" Shanks asked while he watched the other man eyeing the golden ring that shimmered in the quickly fading light of the evening. Soon, the cicadas' chirping wouldn't allow a normal conversation anymore. Rough fingers that weren't his own softly touched the ring, as if they were searching, testing. Maybe Shanks would have jumped to conclusions a little faster, but the headache that had just increased due to the sudden oxygen shock hindered him from thinking clearly.
"Shakky gave me an idea about sealing the ring without me being able to feel the magic," Ray answered absentmindedly. A raised eyebrow was the only answer to that statement, then the old man started to speak. The magic that formed around them was strong, yet familiar. Whenever words were backed up with as much power as Rayleigh had at his command, something in the air would shift. Had he had the desire to do so, Shanks was sure he could have grabbed those shimmering swathes and influenced them to his liking. Instead of interrupting, though, he just watched as the ring seemed to absorb them like a sponge. After a minute or so it was already over, the only thing surrounding them the cold night air and the chirping sounds of the nocturnal animals.
The silence filling the space between the two man was interrupted by a deep intake of breath on Rayleigh's side. "I can't believe you can see them just like that. I mean, I know and with effort and concentration, I could force myself to do so, too, but..."
The voice faded into nothingness. There was no need for Rayleigh to go on with his sentence, Shanks knew what he had wanted to add. Roger had been able to see the words of magic as well, without actually concentrating on it. Seeing magic could be learned, but the most people didn't bother to. It took years of training, and concentration as well as willpower. Shanks however had always been able to see them without any effort – a rare ability he didn't fully understand himself.
"What is it you have placed on the ring?" Shanks asked to steer the topic back to the spell Rayleigh had just wielded. Talking about his power was nothing he wanted to do right now. It would just lead to his title as Yonko again, which would in turn lead to the memory of the morning that still left him feeling sick with guilt. He shouldn't have lost his control like that, he thought. Not anymore, at least.
"A seal," was the answer and again, Shanks raised an eyebrow. It was exactly what he had asked for a few hours ago. Back then the old man had refused his request, and told him in plain words there was no way. What had changed that assessment so suddenly?
Holding up his hand to regard the ring, Shanks furrowed his brow. If the ring really was sealed now, it would keep Benn a little safer. That was the only thing that counted, but he still had doubts. He needed this to work, so he couldn't accidentally harm Benn the next time he tried to open the necklace. Because he would certainly try, again and again until this damn necklace opened and the promised freedom became tangible reality.
Rayleigh must have seen the concerns on Shanks' face, because he started to speak again, his voice a little lower, and not as confident as Shanks wanted it to be, but he would take any help or advise he got. "I didn't seal the ring, I can't seal what I can't feel. But when Shakky told me to describe everything again, she pointed out I could seal your seal, Shanks. It's what I did. If you ever consciously or unconsciously want to remove your own words, you have to remove mine first."
"I hope you didn't go easy on it." Shanks' voice was filled with a little mocking, however he was glad to hear those news. It was not what he had hoped for, but it was at least something, another layer of protection for Benn.
"When did I ever went easy on something?" Ray asked with a judging look out of his wise eyes, his voice matching the inflection of the question, and suddenly both of them laughed, the tension vanished with the relief that it had not been all for naught. No, Rayleigh wasn't someone to go easy on something. Shanks still knew from the years during which he had been learning from him. He would never forget his methods to beat mathematics into his head. Just the memory made him shudder. There were reasons he hated numbers.
Dust swirled up when Shanks spurred his chestnut and waved, his horse already moving down the street in a quick trot. A coughing fit made Shakky bent down, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to get air back in her lungs, and Ray's eyes darted to her worriedly, trying to figure whether he should run into the house to get her a glass of water or not. But it lessened slowly, and a sigh escaped his lips, while he stepped closer to her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her to his side. Her head rested at his shoulder as they watched Shanks becoming smaller in the distance. Only his red hair was shining vividly as always, until he pushed the hood of his coat over his head to hide his appearance.
"Will he be okay?" Shakky asked, her voice a little raspy from the coughing, and Ray let his head lean against hers too, taking in the scent of smoke. It was silent around them, apart from the usual noises of the still sleeping city. There were actual birds chirping audibly, a rare thing in the ever so busy Sabaody.
"I believe in his strength, just like Roger has believed in it... and him," Rayleigh answered his wife after a while and then let out a yawn. They had worked till late in the night, as usual when the bar was open. To say goodbye to Shanks, they had both risen way earlier than usual, and the tiredness was visible in eyelids wanting to close over red eyes that were circled by shadows. They really needed to get back to bed soon.
The sun was warm on the skin, even though it was early in the morning. Shanks had decided to ride back early, after all he would sit on his horse for around six hours and a trip like that was always safer when taken in daylight. Sabaody was a strange city, the districts varying greatly from sandy and hot at the edges that faced the Redline, to cool and green close to the Sandora River. It was why the rich and famous lived next to the scalawags of this land, as if they were totally unaware the other party existed.
"Do you think Shanks will figure out your seal is only fake?" Shakky asked in a low voice, her eyes darting from the spot Shanks had vanished to Ray's face.
"Hopefully not," was the simple answer, and both knew it would be for the best if Shanks kept on believing Ray had still the power to constrain his old pupil. But if Shanks really wanted to break his seal, he would be able to do so, simply by the power that grew in him to dimensions neither Shakky nor Rayleigh knew the limit of anymore. "When he believes he is safe from his own power he will be calmer."
A sigh sounded next to Ray's ear and as if it was a signal for both of them, they stepped back from their position. "Let's go to bed."
It were simply words, but they also carried a lot more than just their original meaning. Shakky was right, they couldn't do much now, other than waiting and hoping there was a way to open that necklace. It was a gamble to guess whether the necklace would open before Shanks came off age or the other way round, but not one Ray would bet his money on, though normally he took idiotic risks when it came to gambling.
"I will be away for a while in a few days." The words Ray spoke sounded like he was far away with his thoughts, and he was surprised when he felt a hand on his neck, pulling him down. The kiss was just a reassurance that is was okay. Shakky didn't even seem to be surprised.
"I know, it's okay. After all, you always come back," Shakky told him, and fished out a cigarette from one of the boxes in her pockets. Some words were mumbled, the stick waggling in her mouth before smoke began to rise that scented the air with her favorite flavor. A sly smirk crept up Rayleigh's lips while he watched her smoke. He would take some time off to see if he could find something out about that black magic that blocked the presence of other magical seals. His searching methods were just not the most legal. Not that anyone in this family cared.
"Yeah and I'm not going before tomorrow," he smirked. When Shakky was done with her cigarette and gripped his hand to lead him upstairs, Ray knew there would be something else, something enjoyable, before they finally went to sleep.
The ride back to his castle had been exhausting, but a lot easier than the one to Sabaody. It was strange what a little bit of sleep, and a proper breakfast could do, but for a person who slept rarely well or through a whole night, it made a huge difference. Also, there had been no rush. Roo was aware Shanks would be back some time during the day, but no one would miss him if he arrived one or two hours later. It also was a good excuse to get away from his duties for a little while. So he had taken his time, had given his horse a little peace and had watched the passing landscape as he rode through it.
The known land varied in its climate, flora and fauna, even though it was in general situated in a warm place. Only the Redline, a massive mountain chain that separated his and Kaidou's territory from Whitebeard's and Big Mom's was covered in snow. But that was to be expected since its highest peak could not even be seen when the sky was serene and cloudless. There were a few mountain passes that connected the two sides of the land, but it was a lot easier for the people living in either Whitebeard's or his territory to pass the border in the east, because there the land became flatter and finally merged in a massive jungle area.
Shanks was aware that his and Whitebeard's people, especially those living near the Dragon's passage, were in contact due to trading. It was a solitary exception to the normally stiff relationships of the Yonko and their people, to phrase it nicely. But the old man and him had always had a certain kind of respect towards each other, and as Marco was one of the other Yonko's sons and his ex-lover, Shanks couldn't help feeling favorable towards Whitebeard. He much preferred the truce over constantly having to be on guard, and as it had been Marco who ditched Shanks, Whitebeard hadn't even had a reason to be mad at him.
A sigh escaped Shanks at those memories, while he slowly rode through his city, Manoas, to get back home. Having a person to relay onto was nice, but Marco never had been that kind of partner. Even though there had been trust, the awareness that both of them should be enemies had raised nagging doubts. The end of that ill-fated relationship lay now years in the past, and Shanks held no ill feelings towards the other. What shouldn't be together normally didn't make it anyway.
His eyes darted over the houses of his home town, taking in the familiar scenery. Most of the walls were painted white, to keep the inside cool, despite the burning sun. It was spring time, still, but summer would come soon and make living harder with its heat. Water was provided by the Mano, a big river that ran through Manoas. It granted the city a quality of life a lot of other towns could only dream of. It was a lot greener, palm trees, hibiscus and aloe vera were just a few of the many plants and trees that grew between the houses, and in the gardens. It was so different from what he had seen on his ride from Sabaody to here. Even though the two cities were cornered by both the Sandora and Mano, there was a stretch of land in between where Shanks had only seen dry land. Cacti, tufts of grass and maybe some small bushes with tiny leafs were all that was left, fighting against the burning heat of the sun-rays. A lot of these plants would die in summer, and only when the winter brought some rain, the nature in these dried-out parts of the known land would come to life again.
It had taken him a while to reach his palace. Even with his hood covering his red hair people recognized him in his own city and wanted to greet him. He wasn't too sublime to ignore them, so he talked with people and listened to whatever they told him. It was a good way to discern if his town's folk was happy, and arrange for changes if not. Without these people, he would be nothing but a man sitting in a palace, and as a Yonko he had responsibilities. How could he reign a whole territory without making sure his own capital was safe and sound?
Entering the cool halls of his home was a relief nevertheless. The ride had been long and exhausting, but he knew each passing mile had been needed, to ensure Benn's safety. His heart became a little heavier thinking of the man, with those sad eyes who revealed so much and nothing at all.
Usually he would walk up straight to his room to take a nap and rest, but the haunting thoughts kept him from doing so. With swift steps, he headed towards the kitchen, hoping to catch a coffee, no matter it was already midday and lunch probably over. When he opened the door to the huge hall he saw he was right. Aside from two small groups who greeted him with smiles, no one else was around. Clattering sounded from the actual kitchen, while only some baskets of bread and one last stack of plates stood on the buffet, ready to be tidied up. A soft sigh escaped Shanks' mouth, as he looked around to be sure, but his fears had come true, the coffee already gone. Damnit.
While a small pout graced his face, the door to the kitchen opened and Roo stepped out. The chef hummed, smiling inwardly, perfectly at ease with himself. It took a while until he recognized Shanks, who hadn't stepped far into the room. However, when he did so his smile grew a little wider and he changed direction, to move to his superior.
"Shanks. Good to have you back. You're hungry?"
As usual his first question was about food, nothing else to be expected from Roo. A little chuckle left Shanks lips and he shrugged. It wasn't that he was particularly hungry, but he wouldn't say no to a snack and last but not least a cup of good coffee. It would be some time until he went to sleep tonight, and somehow he had the feeling that a nap wasn't going to happen today. "How about coffee and sandwiches? Or are there leftovers?"
"There are, but I'll get you your sandwiches," Roo answered and nodded to the kitchen, before he reached for the last few baskets and picked them up. Shanks followed him into the other room, always a little amazed how the chef managed to whip up such delicacies from this place. He would just mess up with all the pans, bowls and wooden spoons. Leaning against a counter he watched Roo put away the baskets before he filled a silvery kind of pot with ground coffee and water. The whole construct was placed on the hearth and Shanks shook his head, still astonished that something as simple as that could produce the finest coffee he knew – even though he had watched Roo making it many times by now.
"How was your trip?" The question wasn't surprising, as Roo was one of the few people who actually knew why Shanks had ridden to Ray in such a haste. While the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, the atmosphere became a little heavier. The tension was only interrupted by Roo's constant working on the sandwiches.
"Strange," came Shanks answer after a while of thinking how to phrase it. Trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, he forced himself not to think of the few moments his magic had slipped control. It was a burden he did not want to place on Roo's shoulders.
"It will be difficult. More difficult than I believed."
Holding a plate in his hands, Roo turned around to look at Shanks. The sad smile could not be missed, but instead of saying something, he shoved the food into the others hands. It looked delicious and when Shanks caught a glance that told him to start eating, he did as he was told. Tastes of cooked ham, sweet butter, sun-ripened tomatoes, basil and cheese melted on his tongue, again proofing why Roo was a master of his trade. "Thanks to all gods you're my chef. Seriously, I'm always amazed how good a simple sandwich can taste."
"You're just easy to satisfy," was the snide remark and it made Shanks grin. His chuckle sounded over to the other, and even though it didn't seem very polite since his mouth was still full of his bite, it's effect was still the same and a bit of the heaviness drained. Coffee was filled into a mug, topped up with sugar and milk. Roo hadn't had to ask, he knew how Shanks liked his drink. "Don't worry, this necklace won't stay on forever."
With a thankful nod Shanks took the mug to take a sip. The plate had been placed next to him on the counter, and now his hands were wrapped around the warm porcelain. Searching in Roo's face, he tried to find some evidence that the tone of voice really mirrored his feelings, and a small but determined sparkle in the other's eyes confirmed that indeed the words weren't just spoken to sooth Shanks' stressed-out mind, but also because Roo wanted to see Benn free. "How has it been while I was gone?"
For a moment there was silence around the two men, but then Roo grinned and Shanks couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Tell me!"
"You can see yourself if you like. If I remember correctly, he should be with Yasopp now, making the poor guy look like a fool with his bow."
During their walk to the gym Shanks was informed about what had happened during his absence. It wasn't much beside the news that Benn had been working with the chef in the kitchen and that Professor Clover had possible news about Robin. Shanks pondered this second issue and decided to visit the older librarian during the day.
The gym was an extra part of the palace, for free use by the staff whenever they liked. It contained a swimming pool, a running area as well as some fields to play different team sports, an area to train swordsmanship and an archery. The halls were connected to the palace by canopied passages, pillars out of red stone holding the ceiling. Several arcs gave a brilliant view into the large gardens that sprawled at the back of the building. Citrus and palm trees, hibiscus, some ponds and flowers over flowers invited to take a walk through the green that was spotted with colors. Shanks loved to sit outside when he needed time to think, but his duties kept him from doing so most of the time.
Few people were at the gym at this time of the day, most of the members of the palace busy with their work. When Roo and Shanks reached the archery building, they heard commotion coming from inside. The large wooden door was opened by Roo and gave sight to a group of people standing at a safe distance from Yasopp and Benn, each holding a longbow.
It was strange not to be noticed, but all of the attention in the room was focused on Benn, who stood at the end of the hall, bow raised, arrow nocked on to the string. His concentration could be gripped with bare hands as he aimed for the target. Shanks breath halted, while he couldn't avert his eyes from the man. Muscles tensed, small drops of sweat running down his temple, Benn was nothing but beautiful.
A low whirr announced the releasing of the arrow. A second later cheers filled the large hall and while everyone admired the accuracy of Benn's shot, Shanks wasn't able to. His eyes felt like glued to the other man's face, taking in every single shift in the concentrated expression. Those grayish eyes became a little darker, the brows were furrowed and when Benn bit his lower lip, Shanks wanted to kiss that frown away.
Guilt filled his stomach when he realized what he was thinking and how he reacted to Benn once again. Just like in the auction house, Shanks wished for things to be different but knew they weren't. Benn had endured enough and no way would he increase this burden by imposing his own selfish desires on him.
The thoughts helped to force his gaze away from Benn and to the target, a round disk, and again Shanks' eyes widened when he noticed that Benn not only hit the bull's eye but there were three arrows already stuck in the very center of it. A large part of Shanks wished at least one of them was Yasopp's doing, but when a hand patted his shoulder, he knew it wasn't.
"Amazing, isn't it," Roo grinned and pushed Shanks further into the archery. He stumbled but didn't fall, no matter it felt like it. "I showed him around yesterday between breakfast and lunch. We went to the gym after he had seen the library, where Yasopp was testing a new bow. I convinced him to shoot, and he hit every single time. I never saw someone give Yasopp a run for his money like that!"
It was amazing to see how Benn could shoot, but Shanks immediately wondered why the man had looked so dissatisfied with his skills. As if he felt what he did wasn't good enough. The thought was scary, making Benn appear like a honed weapon. Had he been a dangerous toy for previous masters who craved for blood? Cause no matter how much Benn would have wanted to deny the orders - with the necklace, he wouldn't have had any chance to refuse.
"The bow's too small. It's the largest bow we have and it's still too small. Didn't believe I would ever meet someone who… oh," Shanks heard Yasopp talking to Benn, the cheers having died down to exited whispers. However, as soon as Yasopp spotted the two new members of the audience, his eyes met Shanks and he stopped in the middle of his sentence "Shanks."
Hearing this name, Benn turned to face the new spectators. Their gazes met and for a short moment, everything else was forgotten while Shanks took in the other man's features again. This time the connection was mutual. Without a word spoken, he knew Benn was surprised to see him, confused even as he wasn't sure how to handle facing the redhead. Shanks would have loved to speak up, to tell him he didn't need to be afraid, didn't need to see Shanks as his superior, owner, master, whatever, but before any words could leave his lips, Benn broke the eye contact, attempting to bow.
"Stop!" he called out, making Benn halt in his movement. With long strides Shanks closed the distance, ignoring the stares of the other people, trying to smile no matter it felt near to impossible to do so. "You don't have to bow in front of me. No one has to."
"As you wish," Benn replied, tone indifferent as usual and it was like a strike to Shanks' heart, but he took the blow without hesitation. There were too many people around to lose his face.
"I didn't want to interrupt you. I…," he said and then stopped because he wasn't sure how to go on. Usually Shanks wasn't afraid to just speak what was on his mind, but right now he feared he might say something inappropriate, things that would destroy more than they would help. "I would like to ask for a little of your time in the evening. Can you come to my room after dinner?"
A short nod was all Shanks got as an answer and at once he wished his words hadn't sounded so suggestive. He wished he hadn't seen disgust washing over Benn's face before a cool neutral mask slid into place like a well practiced disguise that didn't betray any feelings.