Chapter Text
The bars were pockmarked with rust, rough against the pads of his soft fingers. They never really touched much other than silks and polished silver and he ran his hands up and down the bars of the jail cell in fascination, loving the ridges digging into his sensitive fingertips, gentle but complex.
The room itself was small, most of its space made up of depth, which wasn’t saying much. It was maybe four feet wide and eight feet long, most of the width being taken up by a small cot, the one Matt sat on now, staring at the damp stone wall in front of him and grounding himself with the texture of the bars. It was cold, but not teeth-chattering cold. He kind of wished it was colder, some sort of feeling he could just fall into as opposed to this minor discomfort, just tickling the back of his mind at all times.
He wonders if this is what it was like for Shiro. He didn’t think so. Even as a prisoner, royalty was always treated better. This wasn’t awful , per se, just boring. The food was bad, the cot was stiff, and the blanket was scratchy, but he was alive and unharmed.
Matt’s face puckered. Much better than Shiro’s stay.
He didn’t know much about Shiro’s time with the Galra. He only remembered the servant boy turned knight from before the war, and the man that returned after. He knew the name Sendak from Shiro’s nightmares, the sound emanating from the guard’s chamber just beside his own room.
His journey with Sendak had been silent as he rode on the back of the horse, hands tied. He’d had so many questions he wanted to ask, but the memory of the man’s malicious grin and vile scars kept Matt quiet.
All he could do was stare at the dark stone, watching a droplet of scummy water slowly track down the wall, and wonder.
Shiro paced in the king’s throne room after notifying the nearest page boy that he had urgent news. He kept going over it in his head, how to tell his story, how to somehow explain what happened, that Matt sacrificed himself so Shiro could stay safe.
Shiro bit the inside of his cheek. I should have stopped him, it should have been me, he should have let me die, god, I wish I was dead, he’s so much more im—
“You’re going to wear a trench into the floor if you keep pacing like that, Shiro,” the king’s voice broke through Shiro’s internal monologue and immediately, out of reflex, he fell to one knee, bowing his head.
The king laughed and Shiro winced. He had no idea.
“Stand up, Shiro. I’ve been telling you for years, I’ve known you since you were a boy. Stand up.”
Shiro complied to his king but kept his head bowed.
Sam saw his discomfort and let the amusement fall him his face as he watched the knight shift from foot to foot.
“What happened, Shiro.”
Shiro clenched his fist and took a breath, catching the king’s eye as he spoke.
“The Galra have Matt.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he took a step towards Shiro, who looked right back at the ground, apparently fascinated by a small imperfection in the stone floor.
“Shiro,” Sam began, voice gentle, “how did this happen.”
Shiro shook his head, “I—” he began, shaking. “He wouldn’t run. I was ready to fight, to give him time to find someone else to protect him, but… he wouldn’t let me. He gave himself up.”
Shiro looked up, grey eyes shining.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t know how to stop him, and Sendak—”
“Shiro,” Sam began.
“—I would die for Matt, you know that, my king tell me you know—”
“Shiro!” and Shiro went quiet.
Sam was rigid on the raised platform that held the stone. He took the few steps down to stand in front of the young knight, quivering and chewing on his lip. Sam laid his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, bringing his head down just a touch to catch his eyes.
“We’re going to get him back, I promise.”
Shiro’s shoulders fell.
“You aren’t going to punish me?” he whispered.
Sam shook his head, “Of course not, Shiro, I’m proud of both you and Matt. You know you’re a son to me, I don’t want you to die for anyone.”
Shiro nodded.
“We’re going to get him back.”