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It was so gradual that it was almost impossible to tell when things started going...odd. When his world started to blur into the strange incessant thoughts and needs.
Was it back in the Garrison?
Or maybe when Keith rescued him the first time? The second?
Was it the product of his enslavement?
Or was it just something that had been there staring at the emotions he didn’t name, thinking he had forever only to find out the time had come and gone.
At first, he thought it was just flashbacks, honestly. One second he was looking at the blood dripping down Keith’s blade, taking in Lotor’s crumpled form, the way Keith’s back lifted with each breath of pain, the next they were both in Black, headed towards the Castle with the news that it was finally over. Keith had been oddly silent, oddly avoidant, the entire ride.
More and more, though, he started to lose time.
It was minor things at first. Things that could be aptly brushed off. He’d have one of their Galra companions say something, especially around Keith, than the next moment Shiro would be on the receiving end of one of Kolivan’s calculating looks, even though he had no idea what he had said or done to get the aforementioned look. Going for food? He would directly miss the moment he and Keith entered the dining room and when they’d sit down, but he’d pretty quickly realize that he wouldn’t touch any food other than a single bite until Keith was either shaking his shoulder with a worried frown or Keith was done eating.
The other’s figured out pretty quickly that no one other then Keith should touch him in these brief spells.
It was easy to brush it off for the first few days as another quirk of his PTSD. Lance, surprisingly, was the one to explain best how the brain sometimes couldn’t get out of war mode, like when his sister came home from the east the first time.
He thinks he knows that’s not it, but he doesn’t want to worry the others.
He probably should have said something.
Definitely should have said something.
It only took about a week, before the blackouts stopped, and for that he was grateful, but in its wake there was something much *much* worse.
The voice.
Well, it wasn’t really a *voice* so much as his own conscious making rather extreme leaps that made no sense, sometimes parroting words and concepts he shouldn’t know into his mind. It was slow at first, so slow he almost didn’t realise it, but it soon became apparent that there was something else going on in his head. It took even longer to notice that he found himself stepping between Keith and the other Paladins more and more often. Had he not realized how much they seemed to try and push Keith aside? How often sharp words directed at Keith would turn on the former Paladin’s fiery temper, only to be used as an excuse for them to label Keith the bad guy in any argument? How much they taunted him, sometimes meaningless and sometimes with barbs meant to sting? It was like a knife between the ribs when Shiro realized that none of the others seemed to see what was obvious to Shiro. They didn’t understand exactly how strong Keith was. How powerful and unrelenting. What kind of strength of character doing what he had done took from someone. And the only reason that Shiro could figure that Keith wouldn’t stand up for himself was that they weren’t worth Keith’s time, that they weren’t actually a threat (‘yet’ his brain supplied, and he had to agree). So Shiro found himself stepping in. More and more and more. Because Shiro would make sure that they wouldn’t actually do anything to Keith.
Shiro could be Keith’s Champion, like he always had.
It came to a head with Kolivan actually. The three of them were the only ones in the training room, Lance, Allura and Hunk had gone to a diplomatic meeting with some other members of the coalition, Shiro having declined going. Allura had look slightly taken aback, but Shiro had simply blamed it on the blackouts and headaches. She took it mostly in stride.
It wasn’t the reason at all.
Keith had ended up on the ground, flat on his back. Shiro had been watching them spar from his own battle with the gladiator, keeping the training level low so he could split his attention. He was thankful he had. Kolivan had immediately began growling commands. Low and with just a bit too much bite, and normally Shiro would have sympathized with Kolivan--as a leader himself he understood just how much pressure Kolivan was under, especially now that the Empire was collapsing in on itself and the Blade of Marmora was seen as the only mobalized Galra force, even if majority of their members were hybrids. But there was something about his tone that set Shiro’s hackles up, something that made a growl start low in his belly and fire burn through him, building into a pressure behind his right eye until he was seeing red.
He had bridged the room in a second while his own training sim ended, putting himself between Kolivan and Keith, and now Kolivan was on the floor, shoulder burnt and Shiro’s hand glowing with the faint smell of burnt fur.
Time had frozen for a moment, before Shiro whirled on Keith, hauling him up with a grip on his Marmora pauldron, setting the slender man down on his feet. “Why do you keep doing this?!” Shiro found himself shouting, Keith not jerking back like a lesser man would, instead furrowing his brows and staring Shiro down. “Why are you letting them push you around?”
Because that was the crux of it. He knew exactly how strong, how firey Keith was, as certain as Shiro’s heart was beating wildly in his chest, and his brain couldn’t seem to correlate how Keith *should* be reacting to how he *was* reacting.
“What the hell, Shiro?” Keith demanded. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
Kolivan had gotten up, and Shiro sent him a glare over his shoulder, Kolivan holding his hands up placatingly. “You *deserve* at least a bit of respect!” He snarled, Keith balking in surprise, though he wasn’t sure if it was from his words or his tone.
“Jesus, Shiro…”
Oh, maybe it was the blood dripping down from his right eye.
When Kolivan’s hand landed on Shiro’s shoulder to direct him to the benches, he shrugged it off violently, before Keith barked, “just sit down and let us look!”
He thought briefly about saying he was fine, about just getting out of the room before whatever strange mood swing had taken hold of him made him do something more drastic then some minor burns on Kolivan’s shoulder...but then he paused to think about it. *Truly* think about it. The order was easy enough to obey. He wouldn’t *lose* anything from doing as Keith said, and the more he thought about it, thought about following instead of leading, the churning in his brain began to calm.
He had always known Keith would make an excellent leader, even with how the others seemed to balk at Keith’s leadership. Maybe Shiro just had to lead the others by example.
By following Keith.
Keith had come to him in the middle of the night not long after that. Not that he was sleeping much these days, he was aggravated too much. Would pace his rooms until he’d find himself in front of Keith’s door at a slightly more appropriate hour, when he could explain why he was there as ‘just passing by’. Even getting the access codes to be able to track all of the people on the ship hadn’t made sleep any easier, though it had eased the paranoia that had lurked in the back of his mind, somewhat.
This particular night hadn’t been one of the nights.
“I...I wasn’t expecting you to be awake.” Keith had said softly after he had let himself into Shiro’s room, bag slung over his shoulder. He looked horribly uncomfortable at the thought that Shiro wasn’t asleep, and it made Shiro frown.
“Where are you going?” Shiro asked, high-alert seeming to be his default state most of these days. A quick glance at one of the small screens on his tablet showed that the castle was reading Keith as still in his room.
He obviously didn’t want people to know what he was up to.
Keith shifted on his feet, looking down at the floor, then off to the side, *anywhere* but directly at Shiro, and it pissed him off.
He caught Keith’s chin in his hand and turned his face up, the both of them staring at each other with almost bated breath, before Shiro found his hands gently brushing Keith’s hair away from his face. Mindlessly organizing the messy locks into something more regal washed away the aggravation and irritation he’d had all day, and he let himself fall into the task.
“I’m leaving,” tumbled from Keith’s lips, and as if he couldn’t stop the words they just kept going. “There’s...we made a mistake. Ending the Empire isn’t going to work...the black hole that it left in the seat of power...they’re going to be gunning for *me*...” Keith stopped himself, taking a deep breath, before gritting his teeth. “I can’t put you guys in danger anymore...Kolivan and I are leaving, but I wanted to...say bye at least.”
It was some of the first words out of Keith’s mouth since the finishing battle that made 100% perfect and clear sense in his mind.
“Who’s ship are we taking?” he asked, moving to throw his meager supplies in his already half-packed bag tucked under his bed.
“You’re not coming.”
Shiro froze, eyes narrowing at Keith over his shoulder. “Keith, that’s not negotiable. I’m *going* with you.” Keith’s lips twisted, like he was barely holding himself back from baring his teeth.
It was a breath-taking look on him.
“Shiro, they *did* something to you...as soon as we know more we’ll send the Coalition more information on how to reverse it…”
“No...” Shiro hissed, feeling the familiar prickle of panic starting in his hairline. Keith couldn’t be serious. Keith wouldn’t actually *let* them poke and prod at him...
“...between Pidge, Hunk, and Coran they’ll have you fixed up in no time. You’ll go back to being the old you and…”
“NO!”
Suddenly, Keith’s hands were on him, talking him through breathing exercises that they had worked out to bring him back from a panic attack, the familiarity comforting and cementing his decision.
“I’m going with you.” Shiro repeated quietly, his breathing still erratic.
“No, Shiro…”
“Please.” Shiro dropped his forehead so it rested against where Keith’s hands were resting on his knees. He’d missed the part where he had slid down to the floor, where Keith had ended up crouched in front of him. But his head resting against Keith’s knuckles felt right in a way he couldn’t explain. “Please. Let me protect you.”
Keith swallowed hard, before nodding, the familiar look of resolve passing onto Keith’s features bringing a smile to Shiro’s lips.
They left that night, taking shifts between the three of them in a Blade of Marmora ship to put as much distance between them and the Castle as possible. As much as both he and Keith had wanted to take Black, they couldn’t risk the Paladin’s tracking them. Not with what they had planned.
Kolivan explained the Galra hierarchy to them on the flight to one of the last major Empire footholds. The reasoning behind why all the Blade of Marmora members had Galra blood. It was glaringly obvious, and sent a tingling all through Shiro’s body even as he repeated the phrase, as familiar as his own arm.
You keep what you kill.
The more he repeated it, the more it made sense why there would be people after Keith’s head. Keith had killed Lotor, who had been the heir to the throne when Shiro had taken out Zarkon. Keith’s blood, while only being half galra, was still galra enough. Shiro...he wasn’t even part galra. Wasn’t worthy, and couldn’t take that burden from Keith.
But he could resolve to be something else, instead.
Shiro, standing at Keith’s shoulder, felt pride swell in his chest when Keith walked into the flagship with his face carefully blank like he owned the place, as he rightfully did. Got to breathe in Keith’s fire as Kolivan stood to Keith’s left as his shield while Shiro stood to his right as his sword. Watched as those who knew in their bones as much as Shiro did that Keith deserved to be standing in front of them, a throne at Keith’s back.
Got to share in the satisfaction as those gathered kneeled, fists pressed over hearts in a show of solidarity that Shiro had never seen Keith receive from anyone other than Shiro himself. Never at the Garrison, never with Voltron.
“Vrepit Sa!”