Chapter Text
"It's done," Keith said. His voice shook but his hands gripped the bloody red bayard firmly. Shiro's world snapped into place with those words. He experienced a sudden crystal clarity that he hasn't felt since the year he spent bleeding on the sands in Sendak's arena. Ever since he had escaped he had been living on borrowed time while the Iayers of brutal conditioning continuously wore at him. Commands pounded into his brain with every breath and every heartbeat. Serve the Empire.
Whenever they drew close to the Imperial Center the demands grew proportionally louder until they were a cacophony ringing in his ears. This time was the worse. During the fight through Central Command they were stronger then they had ever been before. He had been drowning in a sea of words and he knew instinctively that if he allowed himself to slip under even once, he would never reach the surface again. He had to concentrate so hard to think past the roaring noise in his head that his focus had narrowed to a single point; the simple rise and fall of his arm as he cut down whatever obstacle appeared before him. All the while a vice clamped tighter and tighter around his skull. Protect the Emperor.
But the Emperor lay dead at their feet.
And, everything snapped. In the wake of it he couldn't help but wonder why he had been so afraid in the first place. It all made perfect sense now. Everything they had been through led up to this single point.
He could see, now, that the life he had played at as a paladin of Voltron had been killing him, just as surely as any knife or poison. Only worse. He had been killing himself by inches throwing himself from one battle to the next. Choices that seemed right in the heat of the moment made martyrs of villains and murderers of heroes after the flames had died. After everything this was one decision he couldn't bring himself to regret. Here, as he stood in the Zarkon's throne room with the bodies of guards and commanders laying at his feet, he was reminded of his own turning point in the arena. A faceless guard handed him a shattered bone sword with an ugly laugh. "You keep what you kill."
From slave to Emperor, the only things that were truly yours were the things that you were willing to kill or die for.
Keith started to turn away from the body. "Shiro-"
"You know what Galra culture requires, don't you?" Of course Keith knows. He spent time with the Blade of Marmora. Knowledge or death.
"Shiro, no-" There was ever only one way that this was going to go.
"You keep what you kill."
Keith tries to speak, an ineffective attempt to hold back the inevitable.
"Vrepit sa, My Emperor," the Champion said. His fist held over his heart in salute. In many small ways he had always served his Emperor but this was the first time he could openly express his devotion.
Keith's stared at the Champion with eyes that had gone wide and wild. He stepped forward and his expression twisted, "C'mon, Shiro, that's not funny."
The Champion said nothing. There was nothing to say. As the silence stretched on he held his position with his back straight and head held high. He would wait for as long as it took for his Emperor to realize the truth of who he was. Of who they both were.
But before the uncomfortable stalemate could drag on for too long, there came a sound of the door leading out to the main corridor opening. They both turned as the sound echoed through the expansive hall. The Champion stepped forward and activated his arm, ready to defend his Emperor.
In the doorway stood an Altean woman wearing white armor with pink highlighting the pauldrons and other points while doing nothing to hide the black starbursts of a recent firefight. She strode forward with a firm step and her wary eyes scanned for danger as she made her way towards them. She stopped just out of arms reach.
"Allura." Keith's voice was soft with barely contained relief, but the Champion did not relax his stance. Attack could come at any time and from any quarter. "Are you okay? Did you-?"
Allura shook her head. "I'm fine, but Haggar got away."
"Damn, that's gonna come back to bite us."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Hey. You're okay. That's the important part, right Shiro?" When the Champion made no move to answer both Allura and Keith turned to him. "Shiro?"
He remained still, but didn't miss the laden look that they gave each other after the silence stretched on. Keith shook his head in a short, sharp negation. Allura frowned at him but did not argue against the unspoken command. Instead she turned her gaze on the broken body at the foot of the dais. Her voice when she spoke. She sounded world-weary and older than her unlined face would indicate. "I'm sorry it had to come to this. I thought- I'd hoped- that Lotor meant what he said when he spoke of peace."
Keith let out a harsh laugh. His eyes were hard as his hooded gaze was turned inwards. The Champion didn't like it; ghosts were not enemies he could fight. "We knew he was a manipulative liar from the start. Doesn't make him not one when he says all the right things. It just makes us stupid."
"Keith-" Allura reached out to his Emperor. As an offer of comfort or an attack of opportunity the Champion wasn't sure. Either way she pulled back at the last minute and he didn't need to step in. "I know this wasn't what you wanted--and I'm sorry for asking you to do this--but, we have a chance for real peace now."
"I know," he said with a deep sigh. "So, how do we do this?"
"An announcement. You'll need to show the Galra that Lotor is dead and you have ascended to the throne." She looked around. "I'm sure both Zarkon and Lotor made announcements from here. There must be a communications center nearby. I'm going to go take a look."
"Be careful," Keith yelled after her as she loped off to explore the wings. He also looked around. His eyes landed on the massive throne. It dominated the room. "An announcement- from there?"
The Champion felt his heart ache with pride and his lips curled up with a vicious joy that he couldn't contain as he watched his Emperor step over the shattered bodies of his enemies to take his rightful place.
Keith sat down hesitantly and rested the red bayard, still in blade form and still bloody, against his leg. Blood smeared across the white protective plating. The crimson of the red paladin's armor made him look even more like a conquering king. He poked and prodded at invisible seams in the the wrought arms of the throne. Without warning a fan of purple holographic screens unfolded and floated unsupported in the air in front of him.
"Alright, I think I have this figured out," the Altean woman's voice emanating from one of the smaller screens. It sounded tinny and distant.
"Glad one of us does," Keith said.
"Let me just zoom out a little- there we go. Do you know what you are going to say?" She asked.
"Yeah- mostly," Keith said. The last part mumbled more to himself then said out loud.
"Ready? Going live in three, two-" Instead of verbalizing 'one' there was a audible hum and the light of thousands of active projectors turned on filling the throne room with holographic reflections of Galra commanders from across the Empire.
He could see the moment that Keith froze up as the realization of the size of what they were doing hit. Each visible person there could represent anywhere between a fleet of a few hundred thousand soldiers with support to entire systems of over 30 billion sentient creatures. The hall was so filled with transparent images that some of them overlapped with shimmering blue static. Fortunately, Keith's panic response was to go completely and perfectly stone still allowed the Champion to step up before anyone could notice that anything was amiss.
"Citizens of the Galra Empire," the Champion announced, his voice rolled out across the room and across the vast expanse of the Empire. "Today is the dawn of a new era. Lotor is dead. Look now upon your new Emperor."
He watched as eyes tracked from him to the sprawling dead body of Lotor, then up to the Emperor seated on his throne. The Emperor that looked out over the crowd with steely resolve
"All fleets are to pull back from embattled sectors and maintain defensive positions until further notice," the Emperor said abruptly. For all his prior nerves, the command in Keith's voice was compelling and the Champion could see the effect it had on their audience as many stood straighter in spite of their clear shock. "Anyone who continues to maintain hostilities will be considered a traitor and enemy of the Empire."
His proclamation delivered; the Emperor once again fell silent. Again the champion stepped up before the silence could draw on too long. A phrase echoed from- somewhere, some-when in his white haze of memory. "The Emperor is dead; long live the Emperor. Vrepit sa!"
There was a few scattered salutes throughout the crowd before the feed was cut and the throne room was dark and empty once again.
I know you have it in you to be a great leader, Keith.
And now the universe will know it, too.
The Champion awoke to find himself bound to a chair in a brightly lit medical facility he recognized from the Castle of Lions. He had been stripped of his armor and his arm was forcibly shut down by a heavy cuff clamped over where the metal met flesh. The last thing he remembered was waiting in the throne room for the Altean woman to return from the communications hub. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the fact that his Emperor was directly across from him leaning against the stark white wall. Keith was completely free and unfettered.
And armed. He had his luxite blade out and carefully inspected the well-honed edge for imperfections. He had also removed his paladin armor, but instead of being left in the black bodysuit, he had changed into his normal civvies. The Champion relaxed. Whatever had happened was either with his Emperor's permission or at his command.
"He's awake," a voice announced from behind the Champion. Male. Altean. Not being able to see the speaker made his skin crawl, but he remained focused on his Emperor. He wasn't about to give the Altean the satisfaction of showing weakness. "And the monitors are up."
His Emperor lifted his head. His gaze briefly lingering on the Champion's bound form before moving on to something else behind him. "Allura?"
There was a long silence before she finally answered. "I'm picking up some residue of corrupted quintessence, but nothing active."
He nodded and stepped away from the wall. Keith smoothly tucked the small blade away in a single, smooth motion and focused his attention entirely on the Champion. Without breaking eye contact Keith hooked a stool with his foot and dragged it across the floor to a stop directly in front of the Champion.
"Who are you?" he asked, once he had settled on the seat.
The Champion answered promptly and without hesitation. "The Champion."
Keith's held tilted to one side as he carefully considered that response. "Who sent you?"
The Champion's brow furrowed as he tried to parse what his Emperor meant. No one but his Emperor could have him sent anywhere. "I don't understand the question."
"Why are you here?"
He glanced down at where his hands were fixed to the chair, "Because, this is where you want me?"
"Keith," the Altern woman, Allura, Spoke softly. "He may not know-"
"He knows," Keith interrupted her. His voice was cold and harsh. "That other clone knew."
"We don't know that," she protested.
"Princess," The Altean man said softly. "He had been worried-"
"He knew," his Emperor stated confidently when the Altean trailed off. "He just didn't want to admit it to anyone. Not even to himself, but he knew. Are you in pain? Any headaches?"
It took the Champion a moment to realize the last part was directed at him. "No."
"Light sensitivity? Ringing?''
"No, no."
"Hmm." Keith made a small, thoughtful sound and considered him carefully. "What's your name?"
"The Champion."
"That's a title not a name."
It wasn't a question, but his Emperor looked at the Champion like he expected an answer. "It's who I am."
"Why?" the Champion gave him a quizzical look, and Keith added "Why are you the Champion?"
"Because I win."
"And, who am I?"
Everything. "My Emperor."
Keith's eyes flicked to the Alteans behind him, and the Champion could hear the quiet rustle of movement through no one spoke. "Where did we meet?"
"I don't kn-" Brutally hot sun pounded down like the hammer of God on dry cracked earth. The tarmac smelled of melting tar and jet fuel. "A desert?"
"When did you first see the Black Lion?"
"I don't know."
"How did you lose your arm?"
The blood hung heavy in the air and tasted like copper in his mouth. 'Please, don't take my arm.' "They took it."
"Who did?"
You could've been our greatest weapon. He flinched away from the memory. It was like knives cutting into his brain. "I don't know."
"Who are you?"
"The Champion,"
"Who sent you?" The questioning continued on the same vein for quite some time. Questions about events both personal and general were interspersed with the same two questions that his Emperor wanted the answers to 'who are you' and 'who sent you.' The Champion answered him as best he could, but the memories were like white noise in his head only occasionally interspersed with a jumbled knot of associations that made little sense.
He was disappointed in himself as his Emperor's frustration with his lack of answers grew. Fingers and heels tapped intermittently, starting and stopping. The Champion was lulled into a half-daze by exhaustion and repetition. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
The stool hit the ground with a loud clatter that startled him awake, and there was a knife at his throat. The cold edge of the luxite blade rested against fragile skin. One wrong move by ether of them and he would be bleeding out. Fingers were threaded through his short hair. They gripped him tightly and held him perfectly still. Keith's cold gaze inches away from him encompassed the entirely of his vision, and he could feel Keith's breath hot on his cheek.
"Stop lying to me," his Emperor said with a low growl from deep in this throat that did not sound human.
"I'm not," he whispered. His voice was raw from speaking. The blade was lifted from his neck, and Keith slowly dragged the flat of it against the Champion's cheek. The quiet scrape of the edge across sparse stubble was louder then it should have been in the deathly quiet room. It was still almost drowned out by the pounding of the Champion's own blood in his ears.
"Please," Keith whispered. The coldness in his eyes replaced with a wet sheen. His voice was thick and close to breaking. "Please don't make me do this. I don't want to hurt you."
"Keith!" the threat was not lost on their audience if the shocked outrage in Allura's voice was anything to go by. "Keith, no. What are you-"
No one dared to breathe as the weight of some terrible decision bore down on them. The Champion stared stared into his Emperor eyes as they slowly lost the wet sheen of emotion and became cold and hard.
"You two should probably leave for this next part," he ordered. Allura made another wordless sound of protest and there was the soft shuffling sound of movement. Coran spoke softly, the Champion could only pickup on a few disjointed phrases. Please, Princess... sometimes in war... don't need to see this.... His Emperor glanced up, over the Champion's shoulder. "Leave the monitors up."
A moment later, the door hissed open and then shut.
Keith stepped back and tucked the knife away back in its sheath. His face was an expressionless mask.
"Please," the Champion said abruptly as he watched his Emperor turned to examine the nearby tray of sterilized surgical tools. "Don't use this as an excuse"
Keith didn't look up from his task. "An excuse for what?"
"An excuse to hurt me," The Champion said flatly, with as little inflection in his voice as he could manage. It wouldn't do to appear weak to his Emperor. Even now. Perhaps, especially now. "If that's what you want, I wouldn't stop you. Whatever you need."
"I told you, I don't want to hurt you," his Emperor said as he picked up a set of shears. The long blades were made of a silvery-white metal like everything else and the edges had the blue glow of a micro-filament blade.
The words 'Then don't,' had almost slipped out, but that would've sounded weak. Like he was begging when that was the farthest from the truth. The Champion knew his Emperor, and knew that if his Emperor felt there was something that he needed to do then he would never let what something so petty as what he wanted get in the way of that duty. The Champion understood this down to the marrow in his bones, but the words to say so drifted out of reach.
The shears were completely silent as Keith slowly opened and closed the blades. The Champion unquestioningly trusted trusted his Emperor. Truth or pain or anything his Emperor needed, the Champion would gladly give them up. Neither of those things stopped the adrenaline and fear singing through his veins in anticipation of what was to come. "Whatever you need, my lord."
Keith stepped into place in front of the Champion. The shears in one hand. He reached out to cup the Champion's cheek with the other before sliding it down to pull away at the neckline of the bodysuit. The spine of the shears was cold against the Champion's skin as it slid under the cloth. The taut fabric parted with a rip that was more felt by the give of the material then by heard.
"What I need," his Emperor said as he slowly cut down the sleeve. "...Is the truth. Can you do that?"
"Yes," he said with a sinking feeling. He knew already that he wouldn't be able to give Keith the answers he wanted to hear.
"Who are you?"He closed his eyes. The next section of cloth parted and cool air brushed his skin.
"The Champion."
"Who sent you?" And on it went. Question asked and answers given while the black body suit was cut away and his chest was bared. Keith set down the shears from the tray where he picked them up. He carefully selected a small mono-filament scalpel and laid it flat against an old scar. The back edge of the blade was carefully traced along the contour of the muscle.
"Where did we meet?"
Heat.
"Desert."
The roaring sound of idling jet engines.
"Launch-" Keith's head tilted to the side in a silent request to continue. The scalpel stilled on his skin. He panted with the struggle to drag coherent words out of one of the few memories that weren't knives in the dark. "Someone mentioned...hotshot cadet breaking all my old records...something special... if he didn't get expelled first."
"Good," Keith said softly. He reached out with his empty hand to gently card through the Champion's dark hair. The Champion leaned into the gentle touch, and couldn't stop the soft whine that escaped. His Emperor knelt down so he was looking up into the Champion's eyes. "Now, tell me again. Where did we meet?"
"It was...the desert... prepping for the Kerberos mission." The words came before he had barely thought of them, sliding out between the holes in his memory. "...Telling me about a Junior cadet breaking all my old records...hairsbreadth away from getting expelled."
As he spoke the words were easier. He barely noticed the scalpel being pulled away. Keith's hands clasped his. They were warm and comforting.
"Class was visiting the launch site...pointed you out," the brief flash of a place, grey halls and stale air, barely had any connection to the words that brought it forward. "I walked you through... pilot training area."
Keith leaned forward, pulling the Champion's head up, where it had dropped due to the exhaustion from his struggle to remember. Indigo eyes filled his vision, and he relaxed further into the small comforting sounds his Emperor breathed.
"Tell me again."
The Champion breathed carefully around the blank spaces in his head, trying to draw the broken thoughts together. The words came out stronger this time. "I was stationed at the Galaxy Garrison prepping for the Kerberos mission. Iverson told me about you. A hotshot cadet breaking all my old records. You were trouble from the start and one strike away from getting expelled. He pointed you out when your class came through on a field trip, and asked me to mentor you when-"
"Tell me about the scores."
He stopped and blinked at the unexpected question. "Scores?"
"The leaderboard. What were the top names?"
"K. Kogane."
"And?"
"And-" It was hard to think through the white noise in his head. "And, T. Shirogane."
Keith's thumb rubbed comforting circles to the back of his hand. "And who are you?"
He opened his eyes, not entirely sure when they had drifted close. The white noise was gone, and he knew. Just as he knew that his Emperor wouldn't like his answer. "The Champion."
With a snarl, warm hands were ripped away. The Emperor lashed out, throwing the small table across the room. The tray with various medical tools hit the wall and floor with a resounding metallic crash. Keith paced across from him, like a large cat trapped in too small of a cage.
Slowly he calmed down. The luxite knife made a reappearance. Less as a threat, and more as a comforting weight. Keith worked the blade between his fingers like someone else might rub at a worry stone. That didn't stop the Champion from watching it with a wary eye. Eventually, Keith came to a stop, once more standing in front of him with the knife put away. He reached out to cup the Champion's cheek. "Shiro, where did we meet?"
The Champion swallowed, his mouth had gone suddenly dry. "I don't know."
"Okay," Keith said. He closed his eyes with a pained expression. He leaned in close, his hands cupping the Champions the face, and carefully. slowly breathing in the same air. "Okay."
And then he walked out of the room.
With no chronometer in view it was difficult for the Champion to tell how much time was passing. Even counting heartbeats was unreliable. His pulse had been ratcheted up just before his Emperor had left the room. Now, it was slowing down to a calmer, steadier pace and sweat cooled on his skin.
He strained his ears to hear any movement from beyond the closed door that was just out of his sight no matter how the tried to twist around. His Emperor had left him in this room with no explicit orders. While it could be reasonably inferred that he was meant to stay, the fact that there was an unknown number of other people on the ship made determining the best course of action- difficult. Protect the Emperor.
He needed to protect his Emperor, like he needed air to breathe. Which he could not do while bound to a chair when unknown individuals would be taking every moment to move against them. There were enemies both inside the Empire and out. Nowhere was safe.
Orders may be orders, but implicit orders were also not technically orders if they were never actually spoken. The Champion nodded to himself. If his Emperor was angry at him for trying to escape, well, he would bear the brunt of that when and if it happened. Right now he need to find a way to free himself and make his way to his Emperor's side.
Decision reached, The Champion began to systematically test the bonds that held him in place. It was no surprise that the metal bands securing him to the chair remained unmoved by the tugging from his weaker flesh arm. As a medical room in an Altean ship, he suspected that they were strong enough to hold an uncooperative Altean in place. The real question was how badly the clamp restricted the use of his prosthetic arm.
He could receive tactile feedback and flex his fingers, so it didn't completely shut the arm down. Unfortunately, he could not activate any of the weapon based functions. That was inconvenient but not insurmountable.
He carefully worked his arm at different angles to try and find the best leverage. The metal did move. It slowly, incrementally gave way as he worked at it.
He was so focused on the task that he missed hearing the soft hiss of the door opening He did not, however, miss the sound of footsteps across the room. He froze, ears straining to follow the newcomer's movements, and he signed with relief when his Emperor stepped into view.
He didn't look any worse for his absence, but by his troubled expression Keith was still unhappy. He didn't speak, but instead dropped a bundle of black and grey cloth and a pair of heavy black combat boots on the floor before swiftly unlatching the metal bands keeping the Champion bound Keith didn't even pause over the warped metal band still holding the Champion's prosthetic in place.
"Get dressed. We're leaving." The Champion didn't question his orders but quickly shucked off the remains of the black bodysuit before dressing in the Altean style black and grey shirt with black combat fatigues from Earth that had clearly seen better days. All the while The Champion kept a careful eye on his Emperor as he stood watch in the doorway and tapped out an impatient beat on the frame.
Once dressed he presented himself at his Emperor's side with a sharp salute. Keith's lip curled slightly in distaste but he offered no further criticism, only a brief handwave as he turned away. "Let's go."
The Champion fell into step behind and to the right his Emperor. Neither said a word as they headed into the maze of the castle's corridors.
"Keith?" They had barey reached the first intersection when the Altern woman stepped out from a side hallway.
"Allura," Keith said. He didn't sound happy to see her. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question?" she snapped smarty, but her eyes flickered to the Champion and she faltered slightly. "I was going to see if Shiro needed- time in a healing pod."
"You think so Iittle of me?" he asked in a bitter, dry tone. "I'd thought you'd gotten better then that."
"You- you had said- That's not fair! What was I supposed to believe? " she protested. Keith sighed and rolled his tense shoulders.
"You're right. That's not fair. I'm sorry." He stepped slightly to the side and waved a hand to present the Champion for inspection. "As you can see he's- well, he's not fine but, he's not hurt.''
She stepped forward. Her brow was furrowed with worry, and her hands reached out. Fingers curled in grasping claws as they reached out towards him from the darkness. "You could have been our greatest weapon."
He held his ground, but something must have shown in his expression that caused her to flinch back. She hovered nervously with her hands clasped tightly over her heart and worried blue gaze darting between them.
"If that's all, we need to get going," his Emperor said. He brushed past the Altean and continued on towards the shuttle hangers. The Champion followed soon after, carefully edging around the Altean.
"Go?" she asked. The Champion bared his teeth in an silent snarl as she followed after them. "Go where? Keith?"
"Like you said, we have no way of knowing what was done to him," Keith said over his shoulder without slowing his pace. "But the Empire does."
"You seriously think Haggar is just going to give you her research?" she asked incredulously. "You killed her son!"
"If she's any kind of Galran-"
"She's Altean!"
"She's been a central part of the Galra Empire for over 10,000 years," he snapped back. "She's Galran enough to string me along with information while she works out how to best stab me in the back."
The Champion felt the quintessence hum through his prosthetic arm at the mention of the direct threat to his Emperor. He carefully shut down the channels before they could activate any surface changes. The witch wasn't here now, and wasn't an immediate threat.
"The point is," Keith continued speaking. "I can probably get something, a place to start at least. But, that means I have to go back."
"And what about the peace talks? We need you here to work out the treaty with the Coalition."
He didn't answer. The long silence stretched out between them.
"Keith?"
"The treaty will have to be put on hold," he said softly.
"What? Why?"
"Because, I'm not going to get anything if my first act is to shut down the entire bloody Empire!"
"Keith! You can't be serious!" They arrived at the door to the shuttle hangers. The wide open bay housed a number of shuttles of different makes and models from a number of sources from the original Altean pods, to boxy Rebellion transport and sleek Galra fighters. The Emperor led them to a larger Galra figher. It was possibly the only ship outside one of the lions that could make the trip to Command Central without a wormhole. He slapped his hand against the bio-lock. "One man is not worth peace for the universe."
The Chamption stepped into the open hatch to examine the empty interior. His Emperor's words drifting after him. "Shiro is."
"I don't believe this is a wise choice," she said. One last weak protest.
"Your objections are duly noted." his Emperor said as he followed the Champion into the fighter. The hatch slid shut silently leaving the Altean on the far side.