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"Sir Keith!"
Keith jerked his head up. One of their newer recruits—Lance, he was fairly certain—was riding up to the camp at full gallop.
Lance pulled his horse to a stop, and Keith hurried to him. "What's wrong?"
Lance practically fell off his horse, gasping for air. "Pidge and Hunk and I were scouting near the gladiator grounds, looking for a way to free the prisoners there, like you and Princess Allura said, and Pidge thought one of the prisoners looked familiar, and so did I, when I looked, and we got closer—"
Keith didn't have time for rambling. "What is it? What did you find?"
"It's Prince Takashi," Lance said in a rush.
Shiro.
Keith's heart seized at the name. "Are you sure?" he demanded.
Lance nodded. "His hair is different and he's missing an arm, but it's him, I'm sure of it. Sir Keith...They're putting him in with the prisoners for King Zarkon's tournament tonight to celebrate a year of his triumph." Lance's tone was bitter. "It'll be a bloodbath."
Keith clenched his fist. "Killing the heir to the throne to cement his rule. We have to stop him."
"We only have hours," Lance said. "How can we mount a rescue in that time?"
Keith didn't know how, but by the gods, they were going to do it. "Where are Pidge and Hunk?"
"Still scouting. They asked me to—"
"Get them back here as fast as you can. We'll need all the information you can get us about the prison and where the prince is being held."
"But what are you—" Lance started.
"That was an order, not an invitation for debate!" Keith snapped.
Lance stumbled back half a step, eyes wide, and then he glared and jumped back on his horse, and rode off the same way he'd come. Likely to collect Pidge and Hunk.
Keith sighed and rubbed his head, and then marched for Allura's tent. Lance was right about one thing: they only had hours to get Shiro back.
And this time, Keith wouldn't fail him.
***
Once Pidge and Hunk returned from scouting, they all gathered in Allura's tent to formulate a plan. Keith let Allura take the lead on that; while he might have known the castle best, logistics were not his strength. Action was. It was taking all his willpower not to just take a horse and go charging into the castle to find Shiro.
However, even he knew that would be a terrible idea where Zarkon was concerned, and even though the few hours they had were scarcely enough to account for all the potential problems in their plan, it was certainly better nothing,
They had to get Shiro back.
He had to get Shiro back.
***
They made their way toward the castle at dusk, when the sunlight was fading rapidly and long shadows hid their progress through the surrounding woods. They'd left Coran behind with a handful of others to break down their camp and move it to a new secure location—if they made it out of the prison, retaliation was inevitable.
Once inside the prison yard, they split up: Lance and Hunk to free the prisoners, Pidge and Allura to create distractions, and Keith to find and free Shiro. Pidge's reconnaissance put Shiro in a different area of the prison, one that was far more heavily guarded, and it would be easier for one person to sneak in and out.
All he had to do was find a good spot to hide and wait for the distractions.
Sure enough, less than thirty seconds after he'd settled in to wait, he heard faint explosions and a commotion in the prison yard. Not long after, several guards ran past him.
He waited until the echoes of their footsteps had faded before he crept into the corridor and hurried toward the cells. Most of them were empty, but if Pidge's information was correct, there should be at least one cell occupied right at the end, nearest the rear of the castle and the cliff.
Keith found it with ease and, after checking to make sure he was otherwise alone, struck the lock until it opened.
The cell was cramped and stank to the heavens, but he spotted someone huddled in the corner.
His hair was longer, with a white streak through it, a scar bridged his nose and cheeks, and he had an unkempt beard, but Keith would have recognized him anywhere.
His heart seized, and he darted forward. "Your Highness!"
Shiro didn't move, didn't even react to seeing him.
Keith crouched beside him, reaching out to cup Shiro's face. "Prince Takashi. Shiro."
At the last word, Shiro blinked, the vacant look clearing from his eyes, and he focused on Keith. "Keith?" he whispered, his voice a rough scrape, as though it hadn't been used in ages.
Keith wanted to weep with relief. Instead, he worked an arm around Shiro's shoulders. "Come on, get up. We have to get out of here."
"I knew you'd come." Shiro struggled to his feet. "I knew..."
He trailed off and stared down at his right arm. Keith followed his gaze, where the empty sleeve was knotted just under his shoulder.
"I don't have an arm," Shiro said.
Keith squeezed his shoulder. "I know. I'm sure Pidge can find a way to make you a new one, she and Hunk are—"
Shiro snapped his gaze up and stared at Keith in wonder, and lifted his hand to trail it along Keith's cheek. "You're real."
"Of course I'm real." Keith clasped his hand—wished he could do nothing but just hold Shiro's hand, show him just how real they both were—and pulled it over his shoulders, so Shiro could use him as a crutch. "Come on, Your Highness."
"I told you not to call me that," Shiro rasped, but he was moving.
"If we get out of here, I will call you whatever you wish," Keith said.
He paused at the door, listening for the guards, but it appeared they were still alone. He led Shiro further down the corridor, where a lone lantern hung above a wooden trapdoor leading to the garbage chute.
"This might smell," Keith warned.
Shiro chuckled. "I'm not sure it can smell any worse than I do."
Keith yanked the door open and peered into the darkness. Gods above, it was awful. He fought down his gag reflex. "Let's go. We'll meet the others by the moat." He pushed Shiro forward. "You're going first."
Shiro looked back at him, the white strands of hair hanging across his face. "Keith—"
"I'll be right behind you. We don't have much time before the guards return. Go!"
He pushed again, and that time, Shiro jumped into the chute without another word. Keith counted to ten, listening for guards all the while, before he jumped after him.
***
As promised, Pidge and Allura met them at the edge of the moat and helped Keith get Shiro out of the water. From the way Allura's nose wrinkled, Keith guessed that the moat had done little to wash off the stench of their jaunt through the garbage chute.
"Lance and Hunk have the other prisoners," Pidge said. "They'll meet us at camp in the morning. We have to hurry. I think Zarkon's guards have finally caught on that it's a distraction."
Keith looked at Shiro, who was swaying on his feet. He'd never make a dozen yards, let along to the camp. "Have we got a horse?"
Allura nodded. "Two of them, back in the trees. Let's go!"
Keith positioned himself under Shiro's arm again, and Allura got on his other side, and together they made it to the horses Pidge was untethering from a tree. It took all three of them, but they finally managed to get Shiro onto one of the horses. Keith mounted behind him and grabbed the reins. Despite months of captivity, Shiro was still far larger than him, and Keith prayed he could keep him on the horse should Shiro start to fall.
Allura and Pidge mounted the other horse, and took off into the dark forest.
Keith followed them.
***
It was well after midnight when they finally made it to the new camp, which Coran was guarding with his usual vigor. He refused to allow Keith and Shiro past the perimeter until Allura vouched for them. Normally Keith didn't mind the man's paranoia, but with Shiro injured and exhausted on the horse with him, it was all he could do not to shout at Coran until he let them pass.
He rode to his tent, belatedly remembered to thank one of the squires for setting it up, and helped Shiro dismount the horse. It was awkward, but they managed, and Keith sent another squire to care for the horse while he ushered Shiro into the tent.
There was only the one bedroll, but he led Shiro to lie down on it.
Shiro struggled to sit back up. "I can't take your bed."
Keith pushed him down. That Shiro went so easily showed how exhausted he was. "Go to sleep."
"I smell," Shiro murmured.
"We'll bathe in the morning," Keith said.
Shiro's mouth rose in a half-smile, so achingly familiar, even through the long hair and the new scar and the beard. "We?"
Keith squeezed his hand. "Yes, we. I went through that garbage chute, too."
But Shiro was already drifting off, his hand relaxing around Keith's, but not letting go.
Keith settled beside him to keep watch. He didn't let go of Shiro's hand, either.
***
Keith dozed, unwilling to fall completely asleep while Shiro was here, and he wanted to be ready if Zarkon's soldiers had tracked them. But he heard no cry of alarm, no sound other than those of the woods and the normal sounds of the camp, and so he drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep.
After some time, he heard footsteps approaching his tent, and opened his eyes to see Pidge pop her head in.
She wrinkled her nose. "You need a bath."
Keith glared. "I'm not leaving him alone."
Pidge raised an eyebrow at Shiro, and Keith ignored the look. Yes, Shiro was sound asleep and had been for a while now, but that didn't mean—
Pidge stepped into the tent. "I'll stay with him."
"Pidge—"
She pointed to the tent door. "He's not going anywhere, we haven't been followed, go take fifteen minutes to take a bath and then come back here and actually sleep. If he wakes, I'll send a squire for you immediately."
Keith tightened his grip on Shiro's hand, but Pidge wasn't leaving and the look she leveled in his direction told him that she knew he knew she was right.
With a sigh, he finally stood. "Fifteen minutes. And you'll send for me immediately."
She held up her hands. "I promise. Now go. Between the two of you, it's going to take a fortnight before this tent loses the stench."
***
Keith finished bathing in record time, changed his clothes, and had one of the squires start preparing a bath for Shiro when he woke. Keith might be fine dipping into the ice-cold stream, but he was determined to give Shiro every luxury they could afford.
He pulled back the flap of his tent and nearly ran into Pidge.
"Oh!" She jumped back. "There you are. He's stirring."
Keith pushed past her, and then paused and swept her up into a hug. "Thank you."
Pidge squawked and patted his shoulder. "Of course."
He let her go and turned to Shiro, who had rolled onto his back and was rubbing his eyes.
Keith's heart thudded, and he hurried to Shiro's side. "Your Highness."
Shiro pushed himself up, wincing, and Keith immediately put an arm around his back to steady him.
Shiro stared at the walls of the tent for a long time, so long that Keith would have thought he'd fallen back asleep if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were open. The only sound in the tent was Shiro's harsh breathing.
After an age, it seemed, he turned to Keith. "I need to you hit me."
Keith balked. "You want me to what?"
"Hit me," Shiro repeated fiercely.
"Have you gone mad, Your Highness? I can't—"
Shiro fisted his hand in Keith's collar, dragged him forward, and kissed him.
Keith froze. His mind blanked completely, and all he could think was that he'd had no training for this. He'd never considered what he might do if Shiro kissed him because he'd never thought Shiro would want to.
Before he could make a decision, Shiro's grip on his collar loosened and he pulled back. He blinked, frowned, and looked around the tent again before staring at Keith. "You're still here."
Keith...was confused. "Yes?"
Shiro clenched his fist and relaxed it again. "You're real."
That he knew to be true. Keith nodded. "Yes."
Shiro's eyes widened, and he dropped his arm to the bedroll. "You...you're really...this..."
His hand went to the empty sleeve of his right shoulder, and then to the bridge of his nose, his fingers bent over the scar there like claws. He stared vacantly at the bedroll, as though he didn't see it there at all, but rather something else, somewhere far away.
Keith had even less of an idea what to do now. He stretched out, hesitated, and then tentatively rested his hand on Shiro's shoulder. "Shiro?"
Shiro was crying. Silently, but now Keith could see the glint of tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes still wide and staring at the bed roll.
Keith awkwardly put his arm around him. Shiro was still the prince, he wasn't supposed to touch the prince without express permission, but...
But when was the last time someone had touched him to offer comfort?
"It's going to be all right," Keith said fiercely. "I won't let anyone take you again. I'll keep you safe, I promise."
Shiro didn't say anything, just leaned into him.
Well, perhaps this was enough, then.
Keith let him sit there for a moment longer, and then hugged him tighter. "Let's get you a bath, Your Highness."
***
The tub was a simple one in a small, somewhat private tent, certainly not fit for a prince, but it was clean and the water in it was far warmer than the stream. Keith helped Shiro undress and ordered a squire to burn the dirty prison clothes and bring something else for Shiro to wear. The squire went scrambling off to obey.
Shiro settled into the bath with a hiss.
Keith was at his side in an instant. "What's wrong? Is it too hot?"
Shiro shook his head. "No. Perfect. I can't remember the last time I had a hot bath."
Keith's heart twisted. "I'm sorry."
Shiro grabbed his hand. "No. It wasn't your fault. I ordered you to go."
Keith shook his head. "I shouldn't have."
"I'm glad you did," Shiro said, and let go of Keith's hand. "I couldn't bear the thought of you being trapped in there because of me."
Keith clenched his fist. "And you think I could bear knowing you were there because of me? Because I failed you?"
Shiro flinched, and Keith instantly regretted his words.
He was no good with words, had never been, but somehow it was worse now, knowing how badly Shiro had been hurt and knowing there was so little he could do to make it better.
He went to find the soap and a bucket.
He found both, along with a cloth, and brought them all to Shiro.
Shiro took the soap. "Have you scissors? Or a razor?"
Keith nodded. "Over there. Do...do you want me to cut your hair?"
Shiro looked back down at the bath. "You may need to shave me as well. I haven't practiced much with my left hand."
Keith stiffened—how could he have forgotten—and then bowed. "Of course. Whatever you need."
Shiro flinched again, and Keith cursed under his breath. How did he keep mucking things up?
He knelt behind the tub, so Shiro's head was even with his eyes, and took the bucket and a corner of the soap to wash it.
It was easier, a little, now that he had a task to focus on. Shiro's hair was matted and dirty, from gods only knew how long between washings. He combed his fingers through to unknot what he could, but there were parts so matted Keith had to cut off them entirely.
He shaved the back and sides of Shiro's head, and trimmed the top as short as he remembered it being. His fingers lingered on the strands of white in Shiro's forelock, and had to make himself pull his hand away.
"Do you want me to shave you now, Your Highness?" Keith asked.
In lieu of answering, Shiro tipped his head back and rested it on the edge of the tub.
Well, Keith could see that meant yes.
He mixed more soap and water into a lather, and dabbed it onto Shiro's face with his fingers. He should have found a shaving kit, but this would have to do.
There was something unbearably intimate about this, about setting the razor to Shiro's cheek and gently swiping away the hair there, the way Shiro's eyes drifted shut and he didn't even twitch when Keith touched him. Keith cleaned the razor and focused on his task, refusing to let his thoughts stray for even a moment. He knew where they would go, and that was not something he could do right now.
He didn't want the moment to end, but far too soon, he was dipping a cloth in water to wipe the excess soap from Shiro's face. "Do you need me to help with anything else?"
Shiro sat up, blinking, and ran his hand over his head and then his face. "No, I...I should be fine now."
Keith nodded and stood, his back aching at the movement. He'd been hunched over for longer than he'd thought. "I'll be right outside, then." He gestured to the tent's opening. "Just say my name if you need me. I'll be right here."
Shiro picked up the soap and gave Keith a small smile. "I know."
***
By the time Shiro finished bathing, Coran had come by to alert Keith that they had set up a separate tent for the prince.
"Can't have our crown prince stealing your bedroll, eh?" Coran said, with an elbow and a wink.
The phrase sank into his gut like a stone, and Keith focused very hard on a nearby piece of grass. "No. I suppose not."
His lips tingled from where Shiro had kissed him, and his fingers itched from where they'd brushed through his hair.
Shiro emerged from the tent a bit unsteadily, and Keith immediately went to his side to support him. Shiro put his hand on Keith's shoulder with a slight smile.
"Your Highness!" Coran bowed. "We have your tent ready."
"That's far too much," Shiro said. "I can share with someone else."
"Nonsense, Your Highness!" Coran swept his arm to the side. "This way, please."
Keith started to step away, but Shiro's grip on him tightened. It appeared that he'd be accompanying them, then.
Coran led them toward the center of the camp, near Allura's tent. "It's not much," he called over his shoulder, "but it'll do until we can return to the village and get you proper lodgings."
"I've been in a cell for most of a year," Shiro said with a wry grin. "Anything is a step up."
The tent was larger than Keith's, not quite comparable to the tents he knew Shiro had slept in before, but definitely better than a prison cell.
Once again, Keith started to return to his own tent, but Shiro didn't let him go.
"Will you stay?" Shiro asked softly. "Just for a moment. I need to speak with you."
And how could Keith refuse him that? "Of course," he said, and followed Shiro into his tent.
Shiro let go of him then, but it was only to pace about the tent, brow furrowed like he had something to say but hadn't quite figured out how to say it yet.
Keith hadn't the faintest idea what was going on, so he waited.
"I apologize for my actions in your tent earlier," Shiro finally said, so stiff and formal. "You are one of my dearest friends, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of that, even to calm my own fears."
"Your..." Keith racked his brain, trying to think of what Shiro meant. "Wait, when you kissed me?"
Shiro blushed and looked away. "Yes. That."
"You wanted to know if I was real," Keith said. That much, at least, he'd gathered.
Shiro nodded, but didn't look back at him. "The other times, you disappeared."
That, Keith hadn't expected. "Other...times?"
"I...had dreams. Or perhaps I just saw things that weren't there. Most often I saw you coming for me, but...it was never real before now."
"You dreamed I'd come for you," Keith repeated.
"I knew you would," Shiro corrected him. "And if you hadn't, it was because you did not yet know where to find me."
Keith didn't know what to say. It was true, of course. He was just surprised to know Shiro knew that, that he trusted Keith that much.
"Because of my position, it's difficult to know someone's true motivations. Are they with me because they want to be? Or because it was my request?" Shiro wrapped his arm around his middle, like a barrier between them. "And I don't want that with you. I want you here because you want to be, not because you feel obligated to me, or—"
"Shiro," Keith cut in, because he couldn't handle the uncertainty in his voice a moment longer.
He crossed the distance between them and took Shiro's hand in his, linking their fingers together and bringing their joined hands to his chest, over his heart.
Shiro stared at their hands, then at Keith, a question in his eyes. And perhaps...hope?
This was never something he'd have done before, but now...Keith took a deep breath. "Kiss me again."
Shiro's eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth fell open.
"I want you to," Keith said in a rush. "I never said anything because you're the prince, but...I would follow you to the ends of the earth even if you weren't."
"Keith," Shiro whispered, and leaned toward him again.
This time, Keith was ready. This time, he knew he could kiss Shiro back, knew he could lift his free hand to cup the back of Shiro's head, could scratch his fingers along the short hair there. He could feel Shiro's unsteady heartbeat against the back of his hand from where their hands were clasped between their chests, and he wondered if Shiro could feel his. It was pounding so hard Keith thought he probably could.
"Stay with me," Shiro whispered into the scant space between their lips. "Keith, please—"
Keith darted forward to kiss the plea away. "Of course I'll stay with you. You have to know that, Shiro, I'll always stay with you. As long as you want me. Because this is where I belong."
Shiro made a faint, wounded noise, and rested his forehead against Keith's. "I love you."
It was so quiet, almost a confession, as though Shiro had been holding the words as close to his heart as Keith had been. Protecting them until it was time to be said.
"I love you, too," Keith said, adding his own confession to the space between them, words he'd been holding back for longer than he cared to consider. "I love you."
He'd say it again. He'd say it forever.
Shiro kissed him once more, tenderly, fingers tightening around Keith's own.
This was where Keith belonged, at Shiro's side, in every way. And no matter what happened, no matter where their fight took them, this was where he'd stay.