On Darkling Wings - II
Title: On Darkling Wings
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defenders
Pairing: Keith/Shiro, Shiro/OMC
Warnings: This is a reincarnation AU. They don't stay dead permanently, but they ARE reincarnated, therefore, must die. A lot. To get reincarnated a lot. Also mentions of non-con (not Shiro/Keith).
Summary: Eons ago, a legend was born about the Darkling; a Demi-God who stole the God Caltek's most prized possession. The reality was far more tragic, for eons ago, the Gods created a perfect creature. Shiro was beautiful and they fought amongst themselves to keep him. Caltek, God of War, won the right and he pampered and cared for this perfect being. His creature was human though, and humans, no matter how perfectly they had been formed, were fiercely independent. When the Darkling fell to Shiro's world, he taught Shiro the nature of love, and of the prison his life was.
Caught in a tryst and on the eve of their escape, the God Caltek cursed the two lovers. Their souls would be forever bound, life after life, death after death, but only one would remember.
The story, as it had been told to Keith, was simple.
The Priest had been one of their order since the day of his birth. Abandoned by his mother and left on the stairs of the God Hephaestus' temple, the boy had grown to show a strength that his misshapen form had belied. They named him Shiro and raised him to be one of the pious. He was intelligent and kind. Virtuous and fair. Though he had been born misshapen - a stump of an arm ending just under his shoulder - he had been clever enough to learn to work the pumps and hammers of the forge and to create beautiful wonders in the name of Hephaestus.
It was not his fault he was so loved.
His superiors worked day and night to create a gift for him and when presented, he declined, saying that it was the will of the Gods that he was misshapen as he was. He was happy enough with the life Hephaestus had given him. They had been insistent and that night, they added a potion to Shiro's drink to make him sleep. When he woke, he had a brilliant arm of metal and a shame for what they had done.
That day when Shiro went to the forges, the fires all died and no one could relight them. The priests prayed to Hephaestus and he answered. At the first glimpse of the sun on the horizon on the fifth day, Talos, the God's giant bronze warrior, would come to the temple and take Shiro's life, as a sacrifice for the Priests vanity and vainglory.
Keith stared at the horizon and the temple in front of him. The Priest had found him and brought him here with only a day to spare. Come morning, Keith had promised to battle Talos. It wasn't for coin or reputation, though Keith could use both. He might be known as a hero in some parts of Greece, but that didn't buy his wine, keep a roof over his head, or feed his horse.
This was something else. Keith knew what it was to be unwanted by his human parents. His mother had been a huntress of Artemis. Shamed by her rape at the hands of a man, she had hidden from the Goddess. When she bore the child, she had left Keith at Artemis's temple, to appease the Goddess and show that home and hearth were not in her heart. Keith didn't know what happened to her, if the Goddess had taken pity on her or not. Instead of dying as a sacrifice, Artemis had seen Keith's likeness to the huntress that Artemis held dear, and she'd sent a deer to carry him to a hunter's cabin. Keith had been raised there, to the hunt, and Keith became known for it.
This man who was to be sacrificed had committed no wrong and Keith felt a connection to him because of that. It didn't hurt that the Priest who sought him out had been so adamant about the goodness of the man in question, about the grace and dignity that he carried.
Lance spoke almost as if the bonds of brotherhood were more, but when carefully questioned it was obvious it was just a strong friendship and a true admiration for the other man. Keith wasn't about to upset the Gods on a lover's word.
Keith learned quickly enough that the Priest was one of the men who had crafted the arm for the Shiro. He was willing to give his own life to the Talos if need be to save Shiro for their crimes, but so far Hephaestus had refused their pleas.
"The morning meal will be served soon," Lance said as he urged Keith to press on. Keith had wanted to arrive as early as possible so they'd been riding hard to get to the temple. "Shiro will most likely be there."
"Most likely?"
"He is very pious. He may very well be in prayer to make himself a proper sacrifice for the God," Lance answered.
Keith looked over his shoulder at the man riding behind him. "Does he want to be saved?"
Lance looked away. It wasn't something Keith had thought to ask before, but he could see the answer already.
"Shiro believes that if he dies we will all be saved from the God's wrath. He isn't willing to save himself and put us in danger, though we are the cause of all of this. He doesn't want to die, but he is ..."
"Pious," Keith said. It was the one word Lance said over and over again. Pious. Hephaestus's most dedicated disciple. Devout. Steadfast. Loyal. Brave.
Lance just nodded as Keith kicked his horse back into action. The black horse snorted once and pulled at the reins but Keith just patted his neck and settled the animal. Young boys came forward as they reached the temple, dressed in simple tunics of rough cloth and with smiles and gentle teasing for Lance.
Keith's horse was led away and when Lance brought him forward, the Temple Priests were at the doors, waiting for them.
Lance went ahead of him a few steps and Keith took his time to look at them. Lance bowed to the Elders and Keith saw the scars and burn marks on their arms; marks of the forge of their God. He had seen them on Lance as well. Two others stood behind the Elders, a Priest and a Priestess in leather smocks, still sweating from their toils. The Elders faces might as well be carved in the metals they worked, but the younger two had anxious faces.
"So, you believe this human will defeat Talos and somehow appease the God's wrath?" the foremost Elder asked.
"He is Keith, favored of Apollo, and Hephaestus himself made his sword and shield as a gift for his deeds. If there is any other better suited to this, I could not think of one," Lance offered.
Keith was taken by surprise at the words. When they met Lance hadn't shown any knowledge that he knew the connection between Keith and the Gods. Apollo had favored him because of his sister's early interest in keeping him alive. Hephaestus understood the abandonment of a mother's love and had granted many requests to Keith in the past. Something he apparently had in common with Shiro, who seemed to be missing from this meeting.
The Elders watched Keith but didn't seem to be impressed with his appearance. Keith didn't care much about that. His hair was wild and his clothes were far from clean after days on the road before Lance had found him but he wasn't there to win a beauty contest. He was there to save a man from an unfair judgment. Even if Keith normally sought his prayers to Hephaestus, it was unjust to make the man pay for the hubris of others.
"Show him to the baths where he can clean up," one of the Elders said. "We'll send food there."
Keith wanted to roll his eyes, but he just nodded his head in gratitude. In truth, he had yet to find a temple that didn't have wonderful baths and he didn't want to lose the chance to visit one because of his sharp tongue.
As the Elders left, the young Priest and Priestess came forward.
"Where is he?" Lance asked. They didn't answer and Lance sighed. "Pidge, where is Shiro?"
"Preparing." There was a resignation in the face of the Priestess. When Keith looked to the other Priest, it was the same. Shiro was preparing to die for them, and they were devastated by this. Keith learned all he needed to know about the man in that one moment. These three would face a God's wrath for the love of their friend.
"He didn't think I'd make it back in time?" Lance asked.
"He is refusing to even talk about it," the other Priest said.
"Hunk," Lance let out a deep sigh. "He can't stop this. We can't ... we can't let him die because we did this to him. He tried to do the right thing."
"Why are the Elders allowing this?" Keith asked. The others looked at him like they forgot he was there but Hunk ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair.
"We asked the Elders if we could make the arm. If we were able to perform such an act for Shiro, perhaps we could help others as well? We could help humanity in ways that we had never been able to before. At least, that's what we thought. When Shiro refused, the Elders were very upset. The arm was made to Shiro's specifications and it couldn't be used by anyone else. Besides, Shiro is the perfect person to show off the metal arm. He's ... well ... if it wasn't for his arm, he would be perfect."
"The Elders," the Priestess cut in, "decided that it was within their rights to require it. So they drugged his evening drink and placed the arm on him. When Hephaestus saw it, they said they had made something even the God might want. They said they could make him perfect, as they had Shiro, and that the world would know that they had loved Hephaestus the best."
"The Elders tried to perfect their God?" Keith asked. It was more than an act of hubris. It was an act of suicide.
Pidge nodded. "Hephaestus said that Shiro was the only Priest worthy of his title and that he would take him, and remake him, and allow him to serve in his forge in Mount Olympus and that the temple would be cursed, known to all as damned. He saw the truth, Shiro's humility and knew that the Elders had forced the arm on him, as well as how they took credit for our work. I believe they hope to bargain somehow with the God, if Talos cannot steal Shiro away as Hephaestus plans."
"If Shiro is so pious and the God wants him at his side, why are you three trying to stop this?"
"Because we don't want to lose him!" Lance said. "Hephaestus is taking him too early. He has so much good he can still do this world. We only want Hephaestus to return and hear our pleas. We would gladly take his place until Shiro's natural time in this world is done. That is all we want."
Keith sighed. "I suppose you had best see me to get cleaned up. I'll eat and then go meet with this Shiro."
"Of course," Lance said. "I'll show you the way. Hunk, can you stop by the kitchen to have food sent to him?" The Priest agreed and Keith was led into the temple.
Lance didn't try to show him around. If Keith was able to save Shiro, there would be plenty of time to explore the temple and get to know its nuances and what made this one special. He was led to a spacious guest room in the temple. They only stopped long enough for Keith to drop off his bag and pull out clean clothes before Lance showed him to the baths that were housed in the lower levels. The baths were fed by a hot spring close to the temple and Lance assured him that at that time of day, he would have the baths to himself.
"Thank you," Keith told Lance, as the Priest seemed to be at a loss for words. "I can find my way back to my room when I'm done."
"Of course," Lance said. He sighed and smiled weakly. "I know it seems foolish, what we did, but if you knew him as we do, you'd do anything just to make him smile. When Pidge though of a way to give him a replacement for his missing arm, it seemed like divine inspiration."
"Maybe it was, Lance," Keith said softly. "Maybe Hephaestus is punishing the Elders for their abuse of their position, and not you for your invention."
"We would lose him, either way."
Lance walked away, head down and defeated and Keith let out a deep breath. He didn't know when he would meet this Shiro, but he had a feeling it would be interesting at least. Keith wasn't known as a pious man and it irked some people that he didn't bow often to the Gods. Keith was like everyone though, he had his favorites and he gave his offerings of food, drink, oils, and incense to them in times of need and in times of plenty.
Keith dropped his clean clothes onto a stool close to a pool in the back of the room. There was a low wall built around it and Keith felt a modicum of privacy for it. He was more used to traveling on his own than in the company of others so the respite from company was a blessing. He stripped out of his dirty clothes and stepped into the warm water.
He didn't try to stop the low moan that came from his lips. It had been too long since he'd been able to properly feel clean. He didn't indulge himself often, but access to the hot baths wasn't something he would pass up. He dunked himself under the water and scrubbed at the mess of twigs and dirt that always seemed to settle into his dark hair.
He took a pumice stone and began to scrub his skin clean, working weeks of dirt and travel away until his skin was left with a slight red tinge to his natural sun-bronzed hues. He ducked under the water again and rinsed his hair one more time.
"I think you may drown before you manage that tangle," Keith heard as his head broke the water's surface. He turned to find that the source of the amused voice was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. He wore the simple tunic of the other Priests, but his undergarment had long sleeves and gloves covered his hands.
The man smiled as he held the tray he carried up a little higher. "I was asked to bring you food." He sat the tray on the edge of the pool but seemed in no hurry to leave.
"Thank you," Keith said as he moved closer to the food. The tray held teganites topped with honey, as well as some cheese and figs. Lance must have told them how they had pressed on to arrive in time, eating in the saddle when they could.
"You have come to help us. We can at least give you the hospitality you deserve."
Keith took a bite before he sipped at the water poured for him. The other man sat at the edge of the pool and watched with a calm that Keith had rarely seen in another. A small smile seemed to tug at the corner of his lips as if there was some source of amusement Keith knew nothing about. Grey eyes held a kindness that seemed to regard them as friends even if they'd just met. His dark hair was cut short except near the crown where his hair had turned white. In whole, he seemed warmly exotic, almost intoxicating to look at. He had no doubt, paired with the fact that he wore gloves, that this was the man he had come to save.
"I was asked to deliver your food because I was coming to the baths myself. May I join you? Or would you prefer your privacy?"
"Please, feel free," Keith said without hesitation. The other baths were empty so it wouldn't have been a hardship for the other man to settle in another bath and leave Keith to his thoughts, but Keith saw the curious light in his eyes and he had his own questions.
"I ... I should warn you about-"
"I would like to see this metal arm that seems to be the source of so much pride and pain," Keith said before the man could finish. He was right. The man smiled and it was obvious that this was Shiro.
Without another word, he stripped off his clothes. He stood in a way that Keith couldn't see his right arm, but there was certainly nothing wrong with the strength of his other arm or the width of his shoulders. His waist was nicely tapered and led to a perfect ass and strong, supple thighs. When he moved to step into the pool, he held his arm behind his back and there was only the flash of silver as he dropped into the water.
When he surfaced again, Keith moved closer. "May I?" he asked.
Shiro lowered his eyes and a slight blush covered his cheeks and nose. A scar trailed over the bridge of his nose and something about it seemed to unsettle Keith. He wanted to ask who had given him such a mark but be refrained. Instead, he took the hand that Shiro set in front of him. He ran his fingers over the silver. He could see no seam in the metalwork and the fingers moved in his grasp as if they were flesh and not man-made.
"It is extraordinary," Keith said softly.
"It was a creation unparalleled by any other smith," Shiro agreed.
"Why would you refuse it then?" Keith asked out of curiosity. "I was told you make beautiful metal sculptures for Hephaestus. Would it not be easier to do with two hands?"
"Perhaps," Shiro said. "But I have been this way since birth. If the gods intended me this way, who am I to change that? Perhaps my arm was the price I paid for the visions I make out of metal. It was a price I was more than willing to pay. If Hephaestus had wanted to gift me with an arm to create more works, he would have given it to me himself. I am just a humble man. I do not claim the right to alter what the gods have given us."
Keith ran his fingers over the metal and he watched Shiro close his eyes, as if he could feel the sensation. It was truly a marvel. It was no wonder the Elders wanted the world to see it on Shiro. Such a piece of work, and on the most modest and unassuming of Priests. He would truly stun the world, as he had stunned Keith so simply.
Lance had been right. Even a few moments with Shiro and Keith could see why the three Priests had loved him so much they had created this for him, and why they were so devastated at the thought of their loss.
"Do you want to be saved?" Keith asked.
"I don't want to die," Shiro said as he backed away, taking his hand from Keith's. "But there is no stopping Hephaestus's wrath. I know my friends would plea for my release from this sacrifice, but I have made my peace with it."
Shiro stepped out of the water then and dried quickly. Keith watched in silence as Shiro applied oils to his skin and then stole a piece of cheese from Keith's tray and winked at him. Keith let out a sharp laugh but, in that moment, he felt his heart lurch. There was something here, something far too miraculous to let go.
"Is there anything you want for yourself?" Keith asked as Shiro dressed and began to leave the bathing area.
Shiro dropped his eyes. "Perhaps," he said softly before he looked up at Keith. Heat filled his eyes and there was no mistake in it. "Perhaps I would like a kiss from my hero, before my tragic end."
He left then and Keith was at a loss for what to say.
He finished his bath and his tray before he returned to his rooms. He began to scout out the temple then, to understand the task at hand. He spoke with Lance, Pidge, and Hunk about Talos and what they knew of their God's creation.
In the end, Talos was not as hard to defeat as he had thought he would be. The creation was large and cumbersome and Keith was able to move around it easily. Shiro had been standing on the temple steps when the metal man had arrived, but he moved when Keith told him to and he was pushed behind his friends, no matter how he shouted to Keith that he was not worth the danger.
It was Hunk who saw the anomaly in Talos's anatomy and Pidge who realized how it could work to Keith's advantage. Lance came to Keith's aid and distracted Talos while Keith snuck up behind him. He shoved his sword into the nail on his ankle and used it to pop the nail loose. He scrambled away quickly as liquid metal began to pour out over the land. It was only a matter of moments before Talos fell to the ground and died, his life's blood spilled over the land.
As Talos gave his last thrash of life, there was a great roar within the sky and Keith was called back to the others when Hunk screamed, "No!"
He ran back to where they sat with Shiro, the man on the ground between them. Keith fell to the floor by his side and saw the way his metal arm buzzed with energy and a faint purple color radiated from it.
Shiro looked pained and blood coated his lips but he smiled at Keith anyway. "It isn't your fault, Keith," he said faintly. "Hephaestus will have me, no matter what you do."
"The God doesn't deserve you if the only way he can keep you is death," Keith answered as he cupped Shiro's cheek softly with his hand. "What can we do? I know nothing of this poison that is killing you."
Shiro let out a deep breath. "Give me my wish, Hero," he answered. "It is all I want, before I die."
Keith felt a sob rising from his throat but he swallowed it down, even as he leaned closer. He brushed his lips over Shiro's softly, then licked across the seam, asking for permission. Shiro opened to him and Keith pressed in closer, deepening the kiss.
And he remembered. Images filled his head, memories of being pressed against Shiro in a cave, memories of hot springs and whispered secrets. Memories of lovemaking and exploring. Memories of Caltek and Shiro's death. Memories of their curse and the weight of it as Keith pulled back to look at Shiro, dying again in his arms, because of a God who wanted to steal him from Keith.
Again, he was powerless.
"Shiro," tears blurred his eyes but he could still see Shiro's smile. When the tears fell, he could see the one thing that pained him more than any other. Shiro didn't remember. It was Keith's memory alone that held their love for one another. They were not just two men who had met in this temple 24 hours before. They were lovers who had crossed time and lives to meet again.
"Shiro," he said again as he pressed another kiss to his lover's lips. Arms held him tight and Keith continued until he felt the arms fall from him and the lips grow slack against his touch. He dropped his head to Shiro's chest and sobbed.
He ignored the others as he turned and looked up to see the God Hephaestus above him. "He will always be mine," the God said.
"No, he won't," Keith said without hesitation. "His eternity has already been claimed. Life after life, death after death, he will be mine even if he never knows it."
Hephaestus paused and he must have found some truth in the words. "So be it."
Keith let out a bitter laugh at the God's resignation, but he didn't bother to fight when Hephaestus swung a forge hammer to end his life.
***
He was finally here. This life, he knew everything. He remembered everything. He thought that meant something. He thought remembering meant something.
Keith had seen him five years ago. He'd been a nobody, just one in a nameless crowd of people, but the games were the games. As much as Keith hated the spectacle, he was a good Roman and went like everyone else. He pretended to enjoy the matches, but it had never set well with him. He had been at the mercy of other's hands far too often to find joy in watching these men fight for other's entertainment.
In this life, however, he was a citizen of modest means. At least he had been, until he'd seen the man that was considered the greatest gladiator in their lifetime. The Champion, they all called him. Undefeated against all opponents, even when he'd been set to fight multiple men at the same time. Even when he was forced to fight with a rag-tag group of men with no warning against groups much larger and more well-formed.
Shiro, Keith knew the name even if the crowds didn't chant it. And the ragtag group of warriors at his side, he knew them as well. Lance and Hunk. Pidge, hidden in men's clothing, but Keith knew the truth. They had found their way to his side once again.
Today, Keith would meet them in the ring as an ally. He had played his opponents well and landed himself in the gladiator ring himself. He would never have had the wealth to buy Shiro and escaping with him would have been a ridiculous attempt. The only way to be with Shiro in this life was to fight by his side.
Today was his first chance and he had worked and buzzed in his master's ear until the man decided that his best use for Keith was to sell him after today's fight. Unless something unforeseen happened, Keith would be bought by Shiro's master tonight.
When Keith entered the arena, a small contingent of men with him, he made his way to the other four that waited. He smiled at them as they met. "Champion, we are yours to command," Keith said.
The man stared at him and there was a hardness to this Shiro that he had never seen before. A gladiator's life was tough and there were rumors about how hard his master had pressed to break him in the first place. Now, Keith wondered about those rumors. About how true they were. Shiro just nodded though and began to set them into motion.
They won the battle and Keith was sold that night. He came to the ludus and was properly cleaned by the slaves of the house so that their owner could see him properly; arena dust scraped from his body and oils freshly applied. They had cut his hair, which bothered him, but not enough to speak out. He would be with Shiro soon so he could put up with any of it.
Five years and he'd finally be able to speak to Shiro for more than a moment or two. He would find a way to win back his love and they could find a way to escape this hell.
Keith sat at dinner but Shiro never came. After, he went to Lance and Hunk who sat together talking quietly. "Where is he?" Keith asked without preamble. It was probably too rude, but he was done waiting. He needed to see Shiro. He needed to speak to him. Tonight. Now.
"What?"
"Where is Shiro?"
They looked at each other and annoyance passed between them. "None of your business, buddy," Lance said quickly. "Where Shiro is, that's his own business."
"Lance, he's back," Pidge came running over, voice lowered but she didn't care that Keith stood before them, listening to her words. "It's bad."
"Shit. How do we get him out of this?" Hunk asked.
"What's going on?" Keith demanded.
Lance looked at him and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this," he said. He continued though and there was a desperation in his voice that made Keith realize just how bad this was. "The Champion is very highly sought after, once the arena is done. Most of the time it's a pleasant enough experience. He lets some noble's wife or daughter paw all over him, occasionally he has to perform for them, but mostly they just want a few gropes and the chance to tell their friends that they were with the Champion. However, there is a guy. He isn't the only one, but he doesn't just want to touch. He wants to hurt Shiro. Our master doesn't have enough power to tell him to stop and he'd be a fool to turn down the money he's offering for Shiro. But Shiro fights him, every single time. It gets bad. Last time, Shiro couldn't fight for a month."
"How does he best the Champion?" Keith asked. He knew what was required of gladiators. He'd been in the same position himself.
"With a lot of extra men to hold him down," Pidge said. Her hands were fisted and her voice was an angry whisper. "I heard him yelling, Lance. They mean to hurt him for real this time."
"No. No, not now," Keith said without thought. "Not when I'm this close. Where is he?"
"We can't get to him."
"Watch me."
It was simple enough. If you didn't care what happened to you afterward, escaping their chambers was easy. He made his way through the halls, blood on his thighs from where he'd wiped his hands clean enough to grip the sword he'd taken from the dead guard's fingers.
He crept down the hall when he saw the men standing around the room. He closed his eyes and tried to still his anger at what he heard, but nothing could take away the muted screams, nor the cruel laughter.
Rage burned through him and Keith struck without thought. Before anyone knew he was there, he sliced the first throat. He didn't know what they saw, but when they looked at him, they fell back in fear. He bit his lip on a sharp tooth and when he gripped one man by the throat, claws had tipped his fingers instead of his usual fingernails. His rage turned him into a half-formed demon and he smiled as he ran the tip of his tongue over two fangs.
"Do you still think you can have what is mine?" he asked the men.
They tried to escape, but they all died to his sword, or his claws and teeth. The room was a mass of blood and guts and Keith dropped the sword to crouch in front of the man beneath him. "Shiro?" he called softly.
The Champion looked up at him, eyes dulled from pain. His hands were tied behind his back and Keith could see that he had been whipped. Blood streamed down his back and thighs and Keith wanted to kill them all again but he needed to care for Shiro instead.
"Shiro, please, answer me."
"Have you come to take me to hell?" Shiro asked.
Keith shook his head. "No. I've come to free you."
Shiro laughed as Keith untied his arms. There, on Shiro's stomach, was a wound he would not recover from. "What will you free me from, demon?"
Shiro's morbid humor struck Keith like a slap in the face and he wanted to howl from the grief. Shiro was already dead. It was only a matter of time. Tears fell down his cheeks and he didn't try to hide it. Shiro watched him, but Keith could see not only was he pain-lulled, but he had been drugged as well. Possibly poisoned. The men who came here tonight meant to make sure that Shiro never fought again.
"Anything. I will give you anything, Shiro. Tell me what you want."
"Free me from this," Shiro answered softly. "Free me from this slow death. I am a gladiator of the arena. I would have died in battle, quick and fierce. I do not fear that. I do not want a slow death."
"You can't ask that of me," Keith pleaded.
"Give me your teeth, demon. That is what you came for, isn't it? All this blood around you. Your mouth is stained from it. Give it to me as well. The kiss of death, for a man who has given so much to death himself."
Keith picked Shiro up and led him back towards the bed. He laid him gently on it and pressed a kiss to Shiro's lips. Shiro's eyes widened in surprise, but his arms came up to grip Keith's back and pull him closer. "Yes," he whispered softly. "Kill me with your kisses. Take me to hell with the sweetness life never granted."
Blood bubbled up between Shiro's lips and Keith knew what would happen next. The slow, horribly painful death that awaited him. Shiro was calm but Keith felt out of his mind. He leaned forward and kissed him again and again and again until he could feel the pain setting in through the stiffness of Shiro's body.
"I love you," he whispered against Shiro's lips. He kissed him one last time as he put the blade so very precisely into Shiro's body. One sharp thrust and it was over. One last kiss to lament lifetimes.
He'd failed him. He'd been too late to save him. He'd been too slow to rise in the ranks and get the notice he needed to be with Shiro and now he was beyond reach. Until the next life.
He sobbed again and climbed into bed with Shiro. They found him an hour later. He continued to press soft kisses to Shiro's face and lips, his cheek and neck. He clung to his body when they tried to take him away, and when they pierced his body with the sword, his final blood bled onto Shiro's skin, taking them both from this hell.
***
Keith had always been a strange child. It was commented on frequently by the villagers who would much rather gossip than try to teach the orphan how to behave. He was smaller than other children his age, and too often ready for a fight. The apothecary was the only one who gave him any pity and he took him into his home sometimes. He made sure Keith was fed, gave him the clothes his son outgrew, and sometimes odd jobs to earn a few coins.
Katie, the apothecary's daughter always laughed at Keith's misadventures and patched him up as best she could. Keith wouldn't let anyone else touch him, but for some reason, the girl seemed to be able to settle something in him.
Then it all changed.
"Keith! Clear the table!"
He barely had time to grab the mortar and pestle he'd been working with when Katie's father was followed into the room by a group of knights, carrying one of their own.
"Hot water," Master Holt called out and Keith ran to get a bowl to fill as he'd been asked. He wasn't much use with medicines, but he could fetch and carry at least - he did what he could to pay the man back for his kindness.
"Katie, he's got a fever. I'll start a poultice for his wound. Keith, bathe the wound," he said as he added a handful of crushed herbs to the water Keith had fetched.
The other knights left, but one stayed behind. As he removed his helmet, Keith stared in shock.
"Let me loosen his armor," Shiro said as he worked quickly to remove the breastplate that had been hiding the worst of the wound. "We were afraid to take it off until we reached a safe village," he continued as he pulled it away.
When it was clear, he smiled at Keith. "There. His name is Lance. If he says anything idiotic, which he will if he wakes at all, then remind him I told him not to play the hero."
Keith could only nod as Shiro took a step back. He looked down then and saw a familiar face. It took a moment to remember where he had seen it.
Shiro's servant. Like Katie, Lance had been caught in the curse that had thrust Keith and Shiro into separate, innumerable lives. Which meant that the third must be somewhere too. He shook the thought away and began to wring out the cloth in the warm water. He couldn't do much, but he was used to cleaning wounds; his own and others.
Katie and Master Holt worked hard to save the knight and Keith stayed at their side, cleaning utensils and mashing herbs, holding the knight down once when he woke. His hand had briefly touched Shiro's and the other man had jumped at the contact. Keith wondered if there was some recognition, but nothing passed behind Shiro's eyes when he gave Keith a small smile and grabbed Lance's leg and held him in place.
When it was all done, Lance lay asleep on the table and it was just a matter of time to see if their treatment would see him through the injury or not.
"Thank you, Good Master," Shiro spoke. "We are indebted to you for your help."
"You can be in my debt in the morning, if he makes it," Master Holt replied.
"We'll take our leave of you then. If anything happens, send word to the Inn. My men and I will be taking beds there."
Keith let out a deep breath as the knights left, though Shiro stayed a moment to speak with Master Holt. Keith was practically dancing on his feet as he waited. When Shiro finally took his leave of Master Holt, Keith ran after him.
"Excuse me, Sir Shirogane," he called out.
Shiro stopped walking and turned to look at Keith. "What can I do for you, boy?" The words were plain but they weren't harsh the way most people spoke to him. He ached though. He was only a child of 12, but he remembered so much more. He remembered lives. He remembered love.
He remembered Shiro's last words on a planet so long ago. It nearly made him weep anew.
He had no time for that now though. Shiro was in front of him, and maybe this was the life where he would get it right. Maybe, this was the life where he would get to live happily with Shiro.
"Sir, I want to be a knight. To prove my worth on the battlefield. Will you take me? You've seen that I can take orders. I can care for your armor and your horses and I even have some learning from Master Holt. I would be a good squire. I'm good in a scrape and I'm fast witted."
"What can you do with a sword then?"
Keith shook his head. "I don't have any experience with a sword, Sir. Just my fists."
Shiro looked him over and nodded his head. "We leave in the morning for battle and I don't have time to take a squire on. When this is over we will come back through though. Show me what you can learn then, and I'll see about taking you on," he said with a smile.
Keith smiled at him and as much as he hated the idea of not following Shiro, this gave him the time to be better for him. He would train night and day to make sure Shiro saw his worth.
"I'll be the best squire you ever saw," Keith promised.
Shiro laughed as he walked forward and ruffled Keith's hair. "Do your best. Remember the Knight's Code. When I come back, show me something worth keeping."
Keith watched Shiro walk away. "As many times as it takes," he told himself before he was called back by Master Holt.
The next morning the knights left with Lance looking much better. He was still not travel-ready to Master Holt's opinion, but Lance refused to leave his Liege Lord's side. Keith ran after them through the village and ducked behind the old stone fence on the north road to watch. He stayed long after they were passed.
Keith stayed long after nightfall, drying his eyes and trying not to think of what would happen to Lance, the servant who had tried to warn his Master so long ago. He spent most of the night pondering what to do next before he finally fell asleep under the stars.
Keith spent the next morning finding a good steady branch to practice with since he had no money to buy a wooden sword. He used his small knife and whittled at it to get it nice and smooth and he rubbed the sides against the sharp edge of rocks to get the right shape.
In a few days, he could swing it comfortably and when he slashed and struck, it went where he wanted. He had nothing to train with except the trees in the forest so he did. He splashed around on the rocks in the river to practice being light on his feet.
Though he had memories of past lives, those experiences did nothing to help his muscle memory - which was non-existent. Those memories outside of Shiro were too blurry. Maybe because he was only 12. He couldn't remember if being older made the memories crisper.
Shiro was always clear though. Shiro, the man he would love for all times. The man whose trust he would have to regain over and over again. Keith would do it though.
So he worked with his wooden sword and he practiced until he knew Shiro would see the effort he'd put into it and the skill he'd developed all on his own.
Three months later, they received words that the knights were returning, but it was a retreat. The women and children were told to run and the men in the village should be prepared to fight.
Keith was given a real sword for the first time and as the knights rode into town, he looked for a familiar face. He couldn't find the one he longed for, so he found Lance, shouting orders and preparing the village for the invaders.
"Where is he?" Keith demanded. "Where is Sir Shirogane?"
Lance looked down at him, eyes bloodshot and haunted. "He didn't make it. He ... he paid for our retreat with his life."
Keith felt the tears prickle in his eyes and he couldn't stop their release. Lance placed a hand on his shoulder in a moment of camaraderie. When Keith looked up at him, he hardened his heart and gripped his sword tight.
"Then we'll make them pay," Keith said. "They'll die today. Every last one of them."
Lance's smile told Keith that they had no chance to make those words true. Their enemy's numbers were too great. They would die trying though.
When the invaders came, they crushed the village and the remaining knights, but not before two brave souls made them pay dearly for it. They fought like demons and howled for the blood of their enemies. And when they fell, the spirit of the village fell with them.
Sir Lance took the head of the invading general and died as he screamed, "For Shiro!"
The young boy, possessed by vengeance and hate, died quietly with blood covering his body, both his enemies and his own. His words were a whisper that no person alive could heed.
"As many times as it takes."
***
On to Chapter III
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defenders
Pairing: Keith/Shiro, Shiro/OMC
Warnings: This is a reincarnation AU. They don't stay dead permanently, but they ARE reincarnated, therefore, must die. A lot. To get reincarnated a lot. Also mentions of non-con (not Shiro/Keith).
Summary: Eons ago, a legend was born about the Darkling; a Demi-God who stole the God Caltek's most prized possession. The reality was far more tragic, for eons ago, the Gods created a perfect creature. Shiro was beautiful and they fought amongst themselves to keep him. Caltek, God of War, won the right and he pampered and cared for this perfect being. His creature was human though, and humans, no matter how perfectly they had been formed, were fiercely independent. When the Darkling fell to Shiro's world, he taught Shiro the nature of love, and of the prison his life was.
Caught in a tryst and on the eve of their escape, the God Caltek cursed the two lovers. Their souls would be forever bound, life after life, death after death, but only one would remember.
The story, as it had been told to Keith, was simple.
The Priest had been one of their order since the day of his birth. Abandoned by his mother and left on the stairs of the God Hephaestus' temple, the boy had grown to show a strength that his misshapen form had belied. They named him Shiro and raised him to be one of the pious. He was intelligent and kind. Virtuous and fair. Though he had been born misshapen - a stump of an arm ending just under his shoulder - he had been clever enough to learn to work the pumps and hammers of the forge and to create beautiful wonders in the name of Hephaestus.
It was not his fault he was so loved.
His superiors worked day and night to create a gift for him and when presented, he declined, saying that it was the will of the Gods that he was misshapen as he was. He was happy enough with the life Hephaestus had given him. They had been insistent and that night, they added a potion to Shiro's drink to make him sleep. When he woke, he had a brilliant arm of metal and a shame for what they had done.
That day when Shiro went to the forges, the fires all died and no one could relight them. The priests prayed to Hephaestus and he answered. At the first glimpse of the sun on the horizon on the fifth day, Talos, the God's giant bronze warrior, would come to the temple and take Shiro's life, as a sacrifice for the Priests vanity and vainglory.
Keith stared at the horizon and the temple in front of him. The Priest had found him and brought him here with only a day to spare. Come morning, Keith had promised to battle Talos. It wasn't for coin or reputation, though Keith could use both. He might be known as a hero in some parts of Greece, but that didn't buy his wine, keep a roof over his head, or feed his horse.
This was something else. Keith knew what it was to be unwanted by his human parents. His mother had been a huntress of Artemis. Shamed by her rape at the hands of a man, she had hidden from the Goddess. When she bore the child, she had left Keith at Artemis's temple, to appease the Goddess and show that home and hearth were not in her heart. Keith didn't know what happened to her, if the Goddess had taken pity on her or not. Instead of dying as a sacrifice, Artemis had seen Keith's likeness to the huntress that Artemis held dear, and she'd sent a deer to carry him to a hunter's cabin. Keith had been raised there, to the hunt, and Keith became known for it.
This man who was to be sacrificed had committed no wrong and Keith felt a connection to him because of that. It didn't hurt that the Priest who sought him out had been so adamant about the goodness of the man in question, about the grace and dignity that he carried.
Lance spoke almost as if the bonds of brotherhood were more, but when carefully questioned it was obvious it was just a strong friendship and a true admiration for the other man. Keith wasn't about to upset the Gods on a lover's word.
Keith learned quickly enough that the Priest was one of the men who had crafted the arm for the Shiro. He was willing to give his own life to the Talos if need be to save Shiro for their crimes, but so far Hephaestus had refused their pleas.
"The morning meal will be served soon," Lance said as he urged Keith to press on. Keith had wanted to arrive as early as possible so they'd been riding hard to get to the temple. "Shiro will most likely be there."
"Most likely?"
"He is very pious. He may very well be in prayer to make himself a proper sacrifice for the God," Lance answered.
Keith looked over his shoulder at the man riding behind him. "Does he want to be saved?"
Lance looked away. It wasn't something Keith had thought to ask before, but he could see the answer already.
"Shiro believes that if he dies we will all be saved from the God's wrath. He isn't willing to save himself and put us in danger, though we are the cause of all of this. He doesn't want to die, but he is ..."
"Pious," Keith said. It was the one word Lance said over and over again. Pious. Hephaestus's most dedicated disciple. Devout. Steadfast. Loyal. Brave.
Lance just nodded as Keith kicked his horse back into action. The black horse snorted once and pulled at the reins but Keith just patted his neck and settled the animal. Young boys came forward as they reached the temple, dressed in simple tunics of rough cloth and with smiles and gentle teasing for Lance.
Keith's horse was led away and when Lance brought him forward, the Temple Priests were at the doors, waiting for them.
Lance went ahead of him a few steps and Keith took his time to look at them. Lance bowed to the Elders and Keith saw the scars and burn marks on their arms; marks of the forge of their God. He had seen them on Lance as well. Two others stood behind the Elders, a Priest and a Priestess in leather smocks, still sweating from their toils. The Elders faces might as well be carved in the metals they worked, but the younger two had anxious faces.
"So, you believe this human will defeat Talos and somehow appease the God's wrath?" the foremost Elder asked.
"He is Keith, favored of Apollo, and Hephaestus himself made his sword and shield as a gift for his deeds. If there is any other better suited to this, I could not think of one," Lance offered.
Keith was taken by surprise at the words. When they met Lance hadn't shown any knowledge that he knew the connection between Keith and the Gods. Apollo had favored him because of his sister's early interest in keeping him alive. Hephaestus understood the abandonment of a mother's love and had granted many requests to Keith in the past. Something he apparently had in common with Shiro, who seemed to be missing from this meeting.
The Elders watched Keith but didn't seem to be impressed with his appearance. Keith didn't care much about that. His hair was wild and his clothes were far from clean after days on the road before Lance had found him but he wasn't there to win a beauty contest. He was there to save a man from an unfair judgment. Even if Keith normally sought his prayers to Hephaestus, it was unjust to make the man pay for the hubris of others.
"Show him to the baths where he can clean up," one of the Elders said. "We'll send food there."
Keith wanted to roll his eyes, but he just nodded his head in gratitude. In truth, he had yet to find a temple that didn't have wonderful baths and he didn't want to lose the chance to visit one because of his sharp tongue.
As the Elders left, the young Priest and Priestess came forward.
"Where is he?" Lance asked. They didn't answer and Lance sighed. "Pidge, where is Shiro?"
"Preparing." There was a resignation in the face of the Priestess. When Keith looked to the other Priest, it was the same. Shiro was preparing to die for them, and they were devastated by this. Keith learned all he needed to know about the man in that one moment. These three would face a God's wrath for the love of their friend.
"He didn't think I'd make it back in time?" Lance asked.
"He is refusing to even talk about it," the other Priest said.
"Hunk," Lance let out a deep sigh. "He can't stop this. We can't ... we can't let him die because we did this to him. He tried to do the right thing."
"Why are the Elders allowing this?" Keith asked. The others looked at him like they forgot he was there but Hunk ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair.
"We asked the Elders if we could make the arm. If we were able to perform such an act for Shiro, perhaps we could help others as well? We could help humanity in ways that we had never been able to before. At least, that's what we thought. When Shiro refused, the Elders were very upset. The arm was made to Shiro's specifications and it couldn't be used by anyone else. Besides, Shiro is the perfect person to show off the metal arm. He's ... well ... if it wasn't for his arm, he would be perfect."
"The Elders," the Priestess cut in, "decided that it was within their rights to require it. So they drugged his evening drink and placed the arm on him. When Hephaestus saw it, they said they had made something even the God might want. They said they could make him perfect, as they had Shiro, and that the world would know that they had loved Hephaestus the best."
"The Elders tried to perfect their God?" Keith asked. It was more than an act of hubris. It was an act of suicide.
Pidge nodded. "Hephaestus said that Shiro was the only Priest worthy of his title and that he would take him, and remake him, and allow him to serve in his forge in Mount Olympus and that the temple would be cursed, known to all as damned. He saw the truth, Shiro's humility and knew that the Elders had forced the arm on him, as well as how they took credit for our work. I believe they hope to bargain somehow with the God, if Talos cannot steal Shiro away as Hephaestus plans."
"If Shiro is so pious and the God wants him at his side, why are you three trying to stop this?"
"Because we don't want to lose him!" Lance said. "Hephaestus is taking him too early. He has so much good he can still do this world. We only want Hephaestus to return and hear our pleas. We would gladly take his place until Shiro's natural time in this world is done. That is all we want."
Keith sighed. "I suppose you had best see me to get cleaned up. I'll eat and then go meet with this Shiro."
"Of course," Lance said. "I'll show you the way. Hunk, can you stop by the kitchen to have food sent to him?" The Priest agreed and Keith was led into the temple.
Lance didn't try to show him around. If Keith was able to save Shiro, there would be plenty of time to explore the temple and get to know its nuances and what made this one special. He was led to a spacious guest room in the temple. They only stopped long enough for Keith to drop off his bag and pull out clean clothes before Lance showed him to the baths that were housed in the lower levels. The baths were fed by a hot spring close to the temple and Lance assured him that at that time of day, he would have the baths to himself.
"Thank you," Keith told Lance, as the Priest seemed to be at a loss for words. "I can find my way back to my room when I'm done."
"Of course," Lance said. He sighed and smiled weakly. "I know it seems foolish, what we did, but if you knew him as we do, you'd do anything just to make him smile. When Pidge though of a way to give him a replacement for his missing arm, it seemed like divine inspiration."
"Maybe it was, Lance," Keith said softly. "Maybe Hephaestus is punishing the Elders for their abuse of their position, and not you for your invention."
"We would lose him, either way."
Lance walked away, head down and defeated and Keith let out a deep breath. He didn't know when he would meet this Shiro, but he had a feeling it would be interesting at least. Keith wasn't known as a pious man and it irked some people that he didn't bow often to the Gods. Keith was like everyone though, he had his favorites and he gave his offerings of food, drink, oils, and incense to them in times of need and in times of plenty.
Keith dropped his clean clothes onto a stool close to a pool in the back of the room. There was a low wall built around it and Keith felt a modicum of privacy for it. He was more used to traveling on his own than in the company of others so the respite from company was a blessing. He stripped out of his dirty clothes and stepped into the warm water.
He didn't try to stop the low moan that came from his lips. It had been too long since he'd been able to properly feel clean. He didn't indulge himself often, but access to the hot baths wasn't something he would pass up. He dunked himself under the water and scrubbed at the mess of twigs and dirt that always seemed to settle into his dark hair.
He took a pumice stone and began to scrub his skin clean, working weeks of dirt and travel away until his skin was left with a slight red tinge to his natural sun-bronzed hues. He ducked under the water again and rinsed his hair one more time.
"I think you may drown before you manage that tangle," Keith heard as his head broke the water's surface. He turned to find that the source of the amused voice was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. He wore the simple tunic of the other Priests, but his undergarment had long sleeves and gloves covered his hands.
The man smiled as he held the tray he carried up a little higher. "I was asked to bring you food." He sat the tray on the edge of the pool but seemed in no hurry to leave.
"Thank you," Keith said as he moved closer to the food. The tray held teganites topped with honey, as well as some cheese and figs. Lance must have told them how they had pressed on to arrive in time, eating in the saddle when they could.
"You have come to help us. We can at least give you the hospitality you deserve."
Keith took a bite before he sipped at the water poured for him. The other man sat at the edge of the pool and watched with a calm that Keith had rarely seen in another. A small smile seemed to tug at the corner of his lips as if there was some source of amusement Keith knew nothing about. Grey eyes held a kindness that seemed to regard them as friends even if they'd just met. His dark hair was cut short except near the crown where his hair had turned white. In whole, he seemed warmly exotic, almost intoxicating to look at. He had no doubt, paired with the fact that he wore gloves, that this was the man he had come to save.
"I was asked to deliver your food because I was coming to the baths myself. May I join you? Or would you prefer your privacy?"
"Please, feel free," Keith said without hesitation. The other baths were empty so it wouldn't have been a hardship for the other man to settle in another bath and leave Keith to his thoughts, but Keith saw the curious light in his eyes and he had his own questions.
"I ... I should warn you about-"
"I would like to see this metal arm that seems to be the source of so much pride and pain," Keith said before the man could finish. He was right. The man smiled and it was obvious that this was Shiro.
Without another word, he stripped off his clothes. He stood in a way that Keith couldn't see his right arm, but there was certainly nothing wrong with the strength of his other arm or the width of his shoulders. His waist was nicely tapered and led to a perfect ass and strong, supple thighs. When he moved to step into the pool, he held his arm behind his back and there was only the flash of silver as he dropped into the water.
When he surfaced again, Keith moved closer. "May I?" he asked.
Shiro lowered his eyes and a slight blush covered his cheeks and nose. A scar trailed over the bridge of his nose and something about it seemed to unsettle Keith. He wanted to ask who had given him such a mark but be refrained. Instead, he took the hand that Shiro set in front of him. He ran his fingers over the silver. He could see no seam in the metalwork and the fingers moved in his grasp as if they were flesh and not man-made.
"It is extraordinary," Keith said softly.
"It was a creation unparalleled by any other smith," Shiro agreed.
"Why would you refuse it then?" Keith asked out of curiosity. "I was told you make beautiful metal sculptures for Hephaestus. Would it not be easier to do with two hands?"
"Perhaps," Shiro said. "But I have been this way since birth. If the gods intended me this way, who am I to change that? Perhaps my arm was the price I paid for the visions I make out of metal. It was a price I was more than willing to pay. If Hephaestus had wanted to gift me with an arm to create more works, he would have given it to me himself. I am just a humble man. I do not claim the right to alter what the gods have given us."
Keith ran his fingers over the metal and he watched Shiro close his eyes, as if he could feel the sensation. It was truly a marvel. It was no wonder the Elders wanted the world to see it on Shiro. Such a piece of work, and on the most modest and unassuming of Priests. He would truly stun the world, as he had stunned Keith so simply.
Lance had been right. Even a few moments with Shiro and Keith could see why the three Priests had loved him so much they had created this for him, and why they were so devastated at the thought of their loss.
"Do you want to be saved?" Keith asked.
"I don't want to die," Shiro said as he backed away, taking his hand from Keith's. "But there is no stopping Hephaestus's wrath. I know my friends would plea for my release from this sacrifice, but I have made my peace with it."
Shiro stepped out of the water then and dried quickly. Keith watched in silence as Shiro applied oils to his skin and then stole a piece of cheese from Keith's tray and winked at him. Keith let out a sharp laugh but, in that moment, he felt his heart lurch. There was something here, something far too miraculous to let go.
"Is there anything you want for yourself?" Keith asked as Shiro dressed and began to leave the bathing area.
Shiro dropped his eyes. "Perhaps," he said softly before he looked up at Keith. Heat filled his eyes and there was no mistake in it. "Perhaps I would like a kiss from my hero, before my tragic end."
He left then and Keith was at a loss for what to say.
He finished his bath and his tray before he returned to his rooms. He began to scout out the temple then, to understand the task at hand. He spoke with Lance, Pidge, and Hunk about Talos and what they knew of their God's creation.
In the end, Talos was not as hard to defeat as he had thought he would be. The creation was large and cumbersome and Keith was able to move around it easily. Shiro had been standing on the temple steps when the metal man had arrived, but he moved when Keith told him to and he was pushed behind his friends, no matter how he shouted to Keith that he was not worth the danger.
It was Hunk who saw the anomaly in Talos's anatomy and Pidge who realized how it could work to Keith's advantage. Lance came to Keith's aid and distracted Talos while Keith snuck up behind him. He shoved his sword into the nail on his ankle and used it to pop the nail loose. He scrambled away quickly as liquid metal began to pour out over the land. It was only a matter of moments before Talos fell to the ground and died, his life's blood spilled over the land.
As Talos gave his last thrash of life, there was a great roar within the sky and Keith was called back to the others when Hunk screamed, "No!"
He ran back to where they sat with Shiro, the man on the ground between them. Keith fell to the floor by his side and saw the way his metal arm buzzed with energy and a faint purple color radiated from it.
Shiro looked pained and blood coated his lips but he smiled at Keith anyway. "It isn't your fault, Keith," he said faintly. "Hephaestus will have me, no matter what you do."
"The God doesn't deserve you if the only way he can keep you is death," Keith answered as he cupped Shiro's cheek softly with his hand. "What can we do? I know nothing of this poison that is killing you."
Shiro let out a deep breath. "Give me my wish, Hero," he answered. "It is all I want, before I die."
Keith felt a sob rising from his throat but he swallowed it down, even as he leaned closer. He brushed his lips over Shiro's softly, then licked across the seam, asking for permission. Shiro opened to him and Keith pressed in closer, deepening the kiss.
And he remembered. Images filled his head, memories of being pressed against Shiro in a cave, memories of hot springs and whispered secrets. Memories of lovemaking and exploring. Memories of Caltek and Shiro's death. Memories of their curse and the weight of it as Keith pulled back to look at Shiro, dying again in his arms, because of a God who wanted to steal him from Keith.
Again, he was powerless.
"Shiro," tears blurred his eyes but he could still see Shiro's smile. When the tears fell, he could see the one thing that pained him more than any other. Shiro didn't remember. It was Keith's memory alone that held their love for one another. They were not just two men who had met in this temple 24 hours before. They were lovers who had crossed time and lives to meet again.
"Shiro," he said again as he pressed another kiss to his lover's lips. Arms held him tight and Keith continued until he felt the arms fall from him and the lips grow slack against his touch. He dropped his head to Shiro's chest and sobbed.
He ignored the others as he turned and looked up to see the God Hephaestus above him. "He will always be mine," the God said.
"No, he won't," Keith said without hesitation. "His eternity has already been claimed. Life after life, death after death, he will be mine even if he never knows it."
Hephaestus paused and he must have found some truth in the words. "So be it."
Keith let out a bitter laugh at the God's resignation, but he didn't bother to fight when Hephaestus swung a forge hammer to end his life.
***
He was finally here. This life, he knew everything. He remembered everything. He thought that meant something. He thought remembering meant something.
Keith had seen him five years ago. He'd been a nobody, just one in a nameless crowd of people, but the games were the games. As much as Keith hated the spectacle, he was a good Roman and went like everyone else. He pretended to enjoy the matches, but it had never set well with him. He had been at the mercy of other's hands far too often to find joy in watching these men fight for other's entertainment.
In this life, however, he was a citizen of modest means. At least he had been, until he'd seen the man that was considered the greatest gladiator in their lifetime. The Champion, they all called him. Undefeated against all opponents, even when he'd been set to fight multiple men at the same time. Even when he was forced to fight with a rag-tag group of men with no warning against groups much larger and more well-formed.
Shiro, Keith knew the name even if the crowds didn't chant it. And the ragtag group of warriors at his side, he knew them as well. Lance and Hunk. Pidge, hidden in men's clothing, but Keith knew the truth. They had found their way to his side once again.
Today, Keith would meet them in the ring as an ally. He had played his opponents well and landed himself in the gladiator ring himself. He would never have had the wealth to buy Shiro and escaping with him would have been a ridiculous attempt. The only way to be with Shiro in this life was to fight by his side.
Today was his first chance and he had worked and buzzed in his master's ear until the man decided that his best use for Keith was to sell him after today's fight. Unless something unforeseen happened, Keith would be bought by Shiro's master tonight.
When Keith entered the arena, a small contingent of men with him, he made his way to the other four that waited. He smiled at them as they met. "Champion, we are yours to command," Keith said.
The man stared at him and there was a hardness to this Shiro that he had never seen before. A gladiator's life was tough and there were rumors about how hard his master had pressed to break him in the first place. Now, Keith wondered about those rumors. About how true they were. Shiro just nodded though and began to set them into motion.
They won the battle and Keith was sold that night. He came to the ludus and was properly cleaned by the slaves of the house so that their owner could see him properly; arena dust scraped from his body and oils freshly applied. They had cut his hair, which bothered him, but not enough to speak out. He would be with Shiro soon so he could put up with any of it.
Five years and he'd finally be able to speak to Shiro for more than a moment or two. He would find a way to win back his love and they could find a way to escape this hell.
Keith sat at dinner but Shiro never came. After, he went to Lance and Hunk who sat together talking quietly. "Where is he?" Keith asked without preamble. It was probably too rude, but he was done waiting. He needed to see Shiro. He needed to speak to him. Tonight. Now.
"What?"
"Where is Shiro?"
They looked at each other and annoyance passed between them. "None of your business, buddy," Lance said quickly. "Where Shiro is, that's his own business."
"Lance, he's back," Pidge came running over, voice lowered but she didn't care that Keith stood before them, listening to her words. "It's bad."
"Shit. How do we get him out of this?" Hunk asked.
"What's going on?" Keith demanded.
Lance looked at him and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this," he said. He continued though and there was a desperation in his voice that made Keith realize just how bad this was. "The Champion is very highly sought after, once the arena is done. Most of the time it's a pleasant enough experience. He lets some noble's wife or daughter paw all over him, occasionally he has to perform for them, but mostly they just want a few gropes and the chance to tell their friends that they were with the Champion. However, there is a guy. He isn't the only one, but he doesn't just want to touch. He wants to hurt Shiro. Our master doesn't have enough power to tell him to stop and he'd be a fool to turn down the money he's offering for Shiro. But Shiro fights him, every single time. It gets bad. Last time, Shiro couldn't fight for a month."
"How does he best the Champion?" Keith asked. He knew what was required of gladiators. He'd been in the same position himself.
"With a lot of extra men to hold him down," Pidge said. Her hands were fisted and her voice was an angry whisper. "I heard him yelling, Lance. They mean to hurt him for real this time."
"No. No, not now," Keith said without thought. "Not when I'm this close. Where is he?"
"We can't get to him."
"Watch me."
It was simple enough. If you didn't care what happened to you afterward, escaping their chambers was easy. He made his way through the halls, blood on his thighs from where he'd wiped his hands clean enough to grip the sword he'd taken from the dead guard's fingers.
He crept down the hall when he saw the men standing around the room. He closed his eyes and tried to still his anger at what he heard, but nothing could take away the muted screams, nor the cruel laughter.
Rage burned through him and Keith struck without thought. Before anyone knew he was there, he sliced the first throat. He didn't know what they saw, but when they looked at him, they fell back in fear. He bit his lip on a sharp tooth and when he gripped one man by the throat, claws had tipped his fingers instead of his usual fingernails. His rage turned him into a half-formed demon and he smiled as he ran the tip of his tongue over two fangs.
"Do you still think you can have what is mine?" he asked the men.
They tried to escape, but they all died to his sword, or his claws and teeth. The room was a mass of blood and guts and Keith dropped the sword to crouch in front of the man beneath him. "Shiro?" he called softly.
The Champion looked up at him, eyes dulled from pain. His hands were tied behind his back and Keith could see that he had been whipped. Blood streamed down his back and thighs and Keith wanted to kill them all again but he needed to care for Shiro instead.
"Shiro, please, answer me."
"Have you come to take me to hell?" Shiro asked.
Keith shook his head. "No. I've come to free you."
Shiro laughed as Keith untied his arms. There, on Shiro's stomach, was a wound he would not recover from. "What will you free me from, demon?"
Shiro's morbid humor struck Keith like a slap in the face and he wanted to howl from the grief. Shiro was already dead. It was only a matter of time. Tears fell down his cheeks and he didn't try to hide it. Shiro watched him, but Keith could see not only was he pain-lulled, but he had been drugged as well. Possibly poisoned. The men who came here tonight meant to make sure that Shiro never fought again.
"Anything. I will give you anything, Shiro. Tell me what you want."
"Free me from this," Shiro answered softly. "Free me from this slow death. I am a gladiator of the arena. I would have died in battle, quick and fierce. I do not fear that. I do not want a slow death."
"You can't ask that of me," Keith pleaded.
"Give me your teeth, demon. That is what you came for, isn't it? All this blood around you. Your mouth is stained from it. Give it to me as well. The kiss of death, for a man who has given so much to death himself."
Keith picked Shiro up and led him back towards the bed. He laid him gently on it and pressed a kiss to Shiro's lips. Shiro's eyes widened in surprise, but his arms came up to grip Keith's back and pull him closer. "Yes," he whispered softly. "Kill me with your kisses. Take me to hell with the sweetness life never granted."
Blood bubbled up between Shiro's lips and Keith knew what would happen next. The slow, horribly painful death that awaited him. Shiro was calm but Keith felt out of his mind. He leaned forward and kissed him again and again and again until he could feel the pain setting in through the stiffness of Shiro's body.
"I love you," he whispered against Shiro's lips. He kissed him one last time as he put the blade so very precisely into Shiro's body. One sharp thrust and it was over. One last kiss to lament lifetimes.
He'd failed him. He'd been too late to save him. He'd been too slow to rise in the ranks and get the notice he needed to be with Shiro and now he was beyond reach. Until the next life.
He sobbed again and climbed into bed with Shiro. They found him an hour later. He continued to press soft kisses to Shiro's face and lips, his cheek and neck. He clung to his body when they tried to take him away, and when they pierced his body with the sword, his final blood bled onto Shiro's skin, taking them both from this hell.
***
Keith had always been a strange child. It was commented on frequently by the villagers who would much rather gossip than try to teach the orphan how to behave. He was smaller than other children his age, and too often ready for a fight. The apothecary was the only one who gave him any pity and he took him into his home sometimes. He made sure Keith was fed, gave him the clothes his son outgrew, and sometimes odd jobs to earn a few coins.
Katie, the apothecary's daughter always laughed at Keith's misadventures and patched him up as best she could. Keith wouldn't let anyone else touch him, but for some reason, the girl seemed to be able to settle something in him.
Then it all changed.
"Keith! Clear the table!"
He barely had time to grab the mortar and pestle he'd been working with when Katie's father was followed into the room by a group of knights, carrying one of their own.
"Hot water," Master Holt called out and Keith ran to get a bowl to fill as he'd been asked. He wasn't much use with medicines, but he could fetch and carry at least - he did what he could to pay the man back for his kindness.
"Katie, he's got a fever. I'll start a poultice for his wound. Keith, bathe the wound," he said as he added a handful of crushed herbs to the water Keith had fetched.
The other knights left, but one stayed behind. As he removed his helmet, Keith stared in shock.
"Let me loosen his armor," Shiro said as he worked quickly to remove the breastplate that had been hiding the worst of the wound. "We were afraid to take it off until we reached a safe village," he continued as he pulled it away.
When it was clear, he smiled at Keith. "There. His name is Lance. If he says anything idiotic, which he will if he wakes at all, then remind him I told him not to play the hero."
Keith could only nod as Shiro took a step back. He looked down then and saw a familiar face. It took a moment to remember where he had seen it.
Shiro's servant. Like Katie, Lance had been caught in the curse that had thrust Keith and Shiro into separate, innumerable lives. Which meant that the third must be somewhere too. He shook the thought away and began to wring out the cloth in the warm water. He couldn't do much, but he was used to cleaning wounds; his own and others.
Katie and Master Holt worked hard to save the knight and Keith stayed at their side, cleaning utensils and mashing herbs, holding the knight down once when he woke. His hand had briefly touched Shiro's and the other man had jumped at the contact. Keith wondered if there was some recognition, but nothing passed behind Shiro's eyes when he gave Keith a small smile and grabbed Lance's leg and held him in place.
When it was all done, Lance lay asleep on the table and it was just a matter of time to see if their treatment would see him through the injury or not.
"Thank you, Good Master," Shiro spoke. "We are indebted to you for your help."
"You can be in my debt in the morning, if he makes it," Master Holt replied.
"We'll take our leave of you then. If anything happens, send word to the Inn. My men and I will be taking beds there."
Keith let out a deep breath as the knights left, though Shiro stayed a moment to speak with Master Holt. Keith was practically dancing on his feet as he waited. When Shiro finally took his leave of Master Holt, Keith ran after him.
"Excuse me, Sir Shirogane," he called out.
Shiro stopped walking and turned to look at Keith. "What can I do for you, boy?" The words were plain but they weren't harsh the way most people spoke to him. He ached though. He was only a child of 12, but he remembered so much more. He remembered lives. He remembered love.
He remembered Shiro's last words on a planet so long ago. It nearly made him weep anew.
He had no time for that now though. Shiro was in front of him, and maybe this was the life where he would get it right. Maybe, this was the life where he would get to live happily with Shiro.
"Sir, I want to be a knight. To prove my worth on the battlefield. Will you take me? You've seen that I can take orders. I can care for your armor and your horses and I even have some learning from Master Holt. I would be a good squire. I'm good in a scrape and I'm fast witted."
"What can you do with a sword then?"
Keith shook his head. "I don't have any experience with a sword, Sir. Just my fists."
Shiro looked him over and nodded his head. "We leave in the morning for battle and I don't have time to take a squire on. When this is over we will come back through though. Show me what you can learn then, and I'll see about taking you on," he said with a smile.
Keith smiled at him and as much as he hated the idea of not following Shiro, this gave him the time to be better for him. He would train night and day to make sure Shiro saw his worth.
"I'll be the best squire you ever saw," Keith promised.
Shiro laughed as he walked forward and ruffled Keith's hair. "Do your best. Remember the Knight's Code. When I come back, show me something worth keeping."
Keith watched Shiro walk away. "As many times as it takes," he told himself before he was called back by Master Holt.
The next morning the knights left with Lance looking much better. He was still not travel-ready to Master Holt's opinion, but Lance refused to leave his Liege Lord's side. Keith ran after them through the village and ducked behind the old stone fence on the north road to watch. He stayed long after they were passed.
Keith stayed long after nightfall, drying his eyes and trying not to think of what would happen to Lance, the servant who had tried to warn his Master so long ago. He spent most of the night pondering what to do next before he finally fell asleep under the stars.
Keith spent the next morning finding a good steady branch to practice with since he had no money to buy a wooden sword. He used his small knife and whittled at it to get it nice and smooth and he rubbed the sides against the sharp edge of rocks to get the right shape.
In a few days, he could swing it comfortably and when he slashed and struck, it went where he wanted. He had nothing to train with except the trees in the forest so he did. He splashed around on the rocks in the river to practice being light on his feet.
Though he had memories of past lives, those experiences did nothing to help his muscle memory - which was non-existent. Those memories outside of Shiro were too blurry. Maybe because he was only 12. He couldn't remember if being older made the memories crisper.
Shiro was always clear though. Shiro, the man he would love for all times. The man whose trust he would have to regain over and over again. Keith would do it though.
So he worked with his wooden sword and he practiced until he knew Shiro would see the effort he'd put into it and the skill he'd developed all on his own.
Three months later, they received words that the knights were returning, but it was a retreat. The women and children were told to run and the men in the village should be prepared to fight.
Keith was given a real sword for the first time and as the knights rode into town, he looked for a familiar face. He couldn't find the one he longed for, so he found Lance, shouting orders and preparing the village for the invaders.
"Where is he?" Keith demanded. "Where is Sir Shirogane?"
Lance looked down at him, eyes bloodshot and haunted. "He didn't make it. He ... he paid for our retreat with his life."
Keith felt the tears prickle in his eyes and he couldn't stop their release. Lance placed a hand on his shoulder in a moment of camaraderie. When Keith looked up at him, he hardened his heart and gripped his sword tight.
"Then we'll make them pay," Keith said. "They'll die today. Every last one of them."
Lance's smile told Keith that they had no chance to make those words true. Their enemy's numbers were too great. They would die trying though.
When the invaders came, they crushed the village and the remaining knights, but not before two brave souls made them pay dearly for it. They fought like demons and howled for the blood of their enemies. And when they fell, the spirit of the village fell with them.
Sir Lance took the head of the invading general and died as he screamed, "For Shiro!"
The young boy, possessed by vengeance and hate, died quietly with blood covering his body, both his enemies and his own. His words were a whisper that no person alive could heed.
"As many times as it takes."
***
On to Chapter III