Stolen Voice (Shanks × Reader)

Nine

An hour later

You are standing opposite the mirror silently, watching your reflection as you arrange the golden earrings that compete against the color of your eyes.

You hate the pitch-black dress that waited for you here, from the lace on its sides to the chain straps running over your shoulder.

It's perfect because that's what your father expects of you.

You run your fingers into your tight bun and loosen it to make it more comfortable, but you only want to run away from this place.

You haven't seen the others since you woke up here, with the door locked from the outside. The voice misses from your mouth as if part of you was cut off and thrown into a bottomless lake where no living thing can reach it.

You almost forgot how suffocating it is when you are all alone. Before you met Shanks and his friends, you felt like you were growing obscured inside, day to day.

You feared that once you woke up to your Devil Fruit working on its own, freezing time around the absent silhouette of your stolen voice, cursing you to wander eternally at a place where no other heart could beat, and nobody could hear you cry.

The nightmare sucked your soul away, and your mind was forever loud and restless, thinking of Mihawk's torment for setting you free.

After Shanks, it was different. It was chance, peace, and kindness. You laughed more than ever before in your life.

You acted differently around him as if his openness found a way to the child you could never fully be.

That was the reflection you wanted to live with. You, smiling in a safe dimension that forgot about your past.

You spin on your heels when someone knocks on the door, then slowly opens it, calling your name with care.

Mihawk steps inside and your fist clenches when you see him in a clean white shirt and carefully tailored suit.

He is flawless.

His walk seems normal despite the new injury he took for you, but you see his pain from the faint wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"Father expects us for dinner," he whispers, and you nod to show you understand. The young man offers you his arm, and you embrace him to support each other.

You press your cheek against his shoulder for a second, and he strokes your head as if he tries to land you some strength.

You straighten your back again, and his features soften as he sets your dark hair.

"You look wonderful tonight," he says gently, but sadness blends in his tone. "But remember that it's not for him."

You smile at him gratefully, and he smiles back with that rare, precious smile he shared with your mother.

And when he guides you through the corridors while every servant bows shortly to the two of you, finally calmness spreads through your veins because you feel him by your side.

Since whatever happens tomorrow, he will always be there, and you will always be his sister, in this life or another.

The serenity stays even when he lays his palm above the tall, oak door with wrought iron ornaments, taking a deep breath as he opens it.

You nestle closer to him when you step inside, and your heart misses a beat when you see the great dining hall, with your friends around the long table.

Shanks rises from his seat out of instinct when he sees you, his cheeks slightly red.

He smiles so honestly that you can't help but return it, and for a few moments, you forget all your other thoughts.