Archive of Our Own

"Shiro. I need your help— we need your help."

Krolia's footsteps echoed throughout the Atlas's bridge, heels clicking against the floor.

If the words and the steps weren't enough to make Shiro instantly direct his attention at her, her eyes were: her expression was neutral but her gaze made his own eyebrows squeeze together. "What is it, Krolia?"

She halted in front of him, her fists clenching. "It's Keith."

A shiver made its way down Shiro's spine. "Is he okay? Was his mission compromised?"

"We can't be certain yet. He hasn't responded for ten days now. The problem is that we cannot send more Blades—nor can we summon any of the Paladins—because they will be too conspicuous."

"Where was he sent to, exactly?" Matt asked from the side of the hall; his father stood next to him. The MFEs and other Atlas crew members joined and surrounded their captain.

Krolia let out a stressful sigh. "He went to a planet called BNN-7."

Shiro crossed his arms, his frown deepening; he had talked to Keith just before he set off. 

He put his hand on that warm, lean cheek, letting his thumb caress it. 

Kissing those soft, soft lips, Shiro let out a sigh.

'Be careful, okay?'

'I will, Takashi.'

"That planet is a part of the Voltron Coalition," Shiro stated, forcing the memory away to focus on the present.

Krolia nodded. "Their citizens are rather peaceful, but the local governments of that planet are suspected of serious crimes in the last few months, against their own people. But, as Shiro said, the planet is a part of the Voltron Coalition—which means that neither Voltron nor the Blade of Marmora are authorized to openly investigate at the moment; not without concrete proof."

"Then why was Keith sent there?" James Griffin raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't they recognize him?"

"As I said, we can't openly investigate; Keith went there as a diplomat on behalf of Voltron and the Blades." 

"Keith? A diplomat?" James chuckled, but immediately stopped when Shiro sent him a piercing, angry gaze. 

"At any rate, such serious crimes must be looked into," Krolia added, sending her own disapproving gaze towards Griffin.

Shiro hushed him before he could continue questioning the mission's goals; that wasn't the point right now. "Are you worried that something might have happened? From what he had told me before he left, there still should be another day or two before his planned return."

"Keith was supposed to send me a daily signal at a certain hour, either of his whereabouts or his findings. Those signals stopped, and this delay is worrisome. We mustn't wait until we hear from him—it's too dangerous, especially because of the war crimes that these governments are suspected of."

Shiro could only nod heavily. Both he and Keith knew the risk of that mission but Keith was one of the finest soldiers out there—maybe even the greatest that Shiro had ever known, especially as his abilities only sharpened and improved with time. 

But if anything happened to him, Shiro had to intervene. 

"Wait," Veronica crossed her arms as well, "if neither the Blades nor Voltron can get in, why can the Captain? Wouldn't they recognize him as well?"

"I already looked into it," Krolia nodded, "this planet was liberated without the Atlas team; they know that Voltron has help from Earth and from other planets, but they don't know exactly who . Shiro can discreetly get in and find Keith." She then looked at Shiro, who nodded at her again without hesitation.

"But if Keith was sent there as a diplomat," Matt said, "why take the risk in harming him or making him disappear? Won't they be wary of an intergalactic scandal? He's the leader of Voltron, after all, not some random representative from an unknown planet." He then checked his hologram phone and nodded to himself. "Okay. Got my answer."

"What is it?"

"This planet's government knows its shit. They sent regular written messages to Voltron instead of the Blades, under Keith's name. Keith's messages are usually brief and follow the regular protocol, so they didn't suspect anything." He paused, and Shiro was about to comment—but Matt continued. "She also says that the messages were supposed to get to the Blades, as well."

Shiro frowned. "Tell Pidge to forward the messages."

Matt nodded and tapped away on his phone. Within seconds, the messages appeared on the big screen before him. Each message addressed both Voltron and the Blades—but none of them reached anyone other than Voltron. 

None of them had any suspicious content. 

Damn.

Krolia clicked her tongue, shifting on her legs. A frown cracked through her usual calmness—she didn't usually react this way, and Keith was sent on way more complicated missions than this on a regular basis. Her nervousness made Shiro even more alarmed. "I wish I could at least send Kosmo with you," she said, "It would have eased your way around. But he’s on a mission with Kolivan universes away for the next few weeks. There’s no way to communicate with them..."

Shiro put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her—and himself. "Don't worry, Krolia. I understand. I will get Keith back safely. I promise you."

Krolia was about to reply before a sudden voice spoke from behind the left panel. "W-wait, sir," the officer bit his lip as everyone looked at him. Shiro had a hard time recalling his name; there were too many people around him every day, and he barely saw this one. Was it… something with C, maybe? "… W… with all due respect, are you seriously going to a hostile planet? All alone?"

Shiro stared at him, completely silent. His worried expression shifted, revealing the anger that was boiling in his chest. 

"Yes, I am," he replied. "Atlas, the Blades, and the Paladins will act as backup, obviously, but going together will be too suspicious."

"But sir—" the officer continued to mumble, licking his lips; his face burned with the amount of eyes that stared at him. "Kogane is—"

"I don't remember asking your opinion, soldier," Shiro's eyes pierced through him. He could withstand comments about himself; those he didn't really mind. He drew the line where Keith was considered. "What is your name?"

"... Curtis, sir." 

"Curtis. I appreciate your concern but I also expect you to know your place."

"Dude, shut up," Matt whispered to him yet he stood his ground. 

"We're just worried about you, sir. This is a dangerous mission, and you're our leader, a—"

When Shiro stepped towards him with a cold expression, his gaze as sharp as a knife, the other man's mouth smacked shut. The silence in the main room was deafening, even though it lasted mere seconds. 

"Let me ask you all a question." He turned to the Atlas crew. "What is this on my hand?" He raised his flesh hand up, and on his fourth finger, the opal of his ring reminded him of space, almost colorless beneath the light of the Atlas. 

He then looked at Curtis and put the back of his hand in front of his face. "Answer me."

"A w-wedding ring, sir," he replied.

"Were you at my wedding, Curtis?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered after gulping. 

"And who did I marry? Mm? Was it you?" Shiro couldn't help himself with asking these questions with more than a hint of fury: He was at the end of his patience. He’d had enough of the universe trying to tear Keith away from him; enough of people doubting Keith, his duty, his bravery, his necessity —not only in Shiro's life—but in everyone's, as all he was ever doing was saving them, all of them, without question. 

"No, sir."

"Then who?" He raised his voice but not enough for a shout—he didn't need to. His voice was already as clear as glass. 

"You married Commander K-Kogane, sir."

"And do you really expect me to do nothing, if there's even the slightest chance for me to help my husband?"

"N-no, sir, but—"

"My husband , who is the leader of Voltron, who risks his life time and time again for the entire universe, just like the rest of us, and maybe even more!" Shiro did his best to keep his body from trembling; inside, however, he could feel nothing but fire. He could sense Krolia's gaze on him, but he didn't dare to look yet. "There is no but . I'm going as his partner but also as the captain of this ship whose duty is to help those in danger—and there cannot be any argument about it. If any of you think otherwise, I don't expect to see you on the Atlas when I'm back. The choice is yours."

Silence fell within the ship. Krolia squeezed Shiro's shoulder with a sad, grateful smile—from what she knew, no one had ever defended her son this way before. 

Shiro turned to Matt and Sam, his hands now on his hips. "Let's start thinking of a plan. Iverson—get me Voltron on the line. We’ll need them. The rest of you are dismissed."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Entering the planet was rather easy. 

All Shiro had to do was to go there as a tourist; there was a national holiday in that particular country, and it was a good excuse for such a disguise. All sorts of aliens came from all over, making it easy for him to blend. 

He reached his hotel room during the evening. Sitting on the… thing that was supposed to be his bed but looked more like a big, soft blob, Shiro looked at the small devices Krolia had given him, and waited.

These should help you locate Keith's Blade suit that he had underneath his uniform , Krolia had told him before he left. If it doesn't work, it means someone discovered him and took it off of him . 

A small translator was connected to the device. Shiro waited as both of the items beeped softly, his leg bouncing as he licked his lips. If only his eyes could make those things go faster, if only—

Connection failed

Fuck.

"Come on, come on," Shiro huffed, pressing the buttons to make the device search again.

Connection failed

"But why? Why?" He groaned. 

Initiating advanced search

"Find him," Shiro uttered. "Please."

Advanced search complete

One message found

"Message?" Shiro frowned. Krolia didn't tell him about any messages that were encoded into the suit; it must have been something she couldn't say out loud.

Password required

Shiro bit his lip. 

Password. A password that Keith would use.

T A K A S H I

Password is incorrect

1 attempt remains

Well. The Blade of Marmora didn't play around. Of course their equipment won't give more attempts than necessary. Even two attempts were one too many.

Shiro bit his lip before letting a sigh out of his nose. He had to think carefully. 

Maybe...

0 2 2 9 2 1 7 6

Processing...

Password accepted

Oh, thank fuck. Keith's birthday was always Shiro’s last resort. Apparently Shiro’s birthday was his... that fact made Shiro smile. 

It immediately disappeared.

Message code: S O S

Shiro let a trembling sigh escape him; his metal hand grasped the device tightly as his left hand covered his mouth. His left elbow dug into his thigh but he ignored the pain. He couldn't lift his eyes off the translator.

Message sent on 04 May 2201 at 1800 hours

Message content:

Evidence gathering complete. Snitch found. Engagement unavoidable. Locati

Message complete

Shiro cursed again. He could already guess why the message was cut in the middle, and he wanted to take whoever it was that dared to lay a hand on his husband and crush them to pieces. 

How could he find Keith now? 

Another groan leaving him, he slammed his metal fist against the nearby wall. He would have, at least, left a hole in it if the walls were made of regular stone, yet they only appeared solid—and were actually elastic. 

He couldn’t even let his anger out properly. Great . 

He could feel his eyes stinging and covered his face, squeezing his palms on it. He knew the mission would be complicated; but he hadn't imagined how hard it would be at this moment, knowing that Keith had been taken. His only lead was just cut off, and he had no idea how to move on from this point. 

He sunk into his seat, a frustrated groan escaping him.

He was scared. 

He hasn't been scared like this for a very long time. Keith's job with the Blades always had risks, he knew that; but when those risks turned into something real, Shiro felt restless. His entire body was sore with stress but at the same time, he was itching to do something, anything. 

He told himself Keith was probably doing the same thing now; just gazing at their wedding ring and knowing Shiro would find him. Or maybe just holding it close to his chest, thinking about the happiest day of their lives, the memory spiraling in his mind just to keep himself occupied. 

If he was even conscious.

If he was even—

Shiro forced the thought out of his mind.

He just wanted to bring Keith home. 

Anxiety usually made Shiro wide awake; now, somehow, it made him tired. The blob he was sinking into was rather comfortable, welcoming, and the urge to cry exhausted him as well. 

Keith…

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

He was sitting on a cloud in front of the fiery sunset. So many bright reds, oranges, and yellows spread across the sky as if painted into it. Above those warm colors, it turned darker and darker until the stars began glittering one after the other. 

He looked to his right: Keith was laying beside him, asleep. Shiro could only see him from the back. His Blade of Marmora suit was tight around his body, emphasizing the slow rise and fall of his chest even from that angle. 

Shiro smiled. It’s been a while since they relaxed like this together. They should do it more often. 

He was about to run his hand through his hair, to bend towards him and watch his beautiful face, to tell him they should watch the stars together again, like they used to all those years ago. 

But something felt wrong.

Why couldn’t he touch him?

Shiro.

The voice echoed in his ears, as if whispered from inside his head. 

Shiro. Can you hear my voice?

It sounded so familiar, like it’s been in his mind before, like it has guided him before. 

It sounded like…

“Black?”

Shiro opened his eyes with a gasp. He had to kick his legs in the air to sit properly; when he was asleep, his body sank within the blob that served as his bed. 

The sun was already rising up to his side. The light gave him a headache. 

Was it real? Did… did Black just talk to him? Or was it only a dream? 

Shiro.

Shiro's frown deepened. Now it was definitely real. 

Black?

Yes, Shiro. 

But… How? Keith is your Paladin, you—

Keith is my Paladin, yes. But so were you. You may not pilot me any longer, but this does not mean that we have lost our bond. I chose both of you, Shiro. Not just one.

Shiro gulped, the tremble of his body slowly relaxing. He was still so confused, but somehow, Black was able to spread a warm and calming feeling within him; that bond they shared for so long was truly still there. 

It was comforting.

You also were in my astral plane for so long that ever since, our bond got even stronger; just as the bond I share with Keith has become.

So if I try?

I will accept you, yes. But this is a conversation for another time. Our paladin is in danger. 

We have to find him. But I don't know how.

I will help you. As I said, my bond with you is just as strong as it is with him. Until now, something blocked me from reaching him. But I believe that if you try along with me, we will succeed.

Shiro's heart skipped a beat. 

Try with you?

Reach out to him, Shiro. Tell him that you're here. The connection that you two have is so unique, so deep, that I will be able to channel it. I know it.

Shiro nodded, licking his lips.

Please.

The silence that settled made Shiro's knee bounce again; however, he made it stop and closed his eyes. He focused on his bond with Black, and thought about nothing but Keith, doing his best to channel that he was around, that he was coming for him, that soon everything would be fine. 

Shiro.

His breath stopped again.

Yes?

I cannot speak to him, but I found him.

You need to hurry.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The most visited attraction in the city was the square; it was vast yet packed with tourists and locals alike. Everything was festive, colorful; there were street singers and entertainers, local flea markets, food stands. Everyone was dressed up in extravagant costumes that reminded Shiro of old movies about Middle Ages Europe. Even the local police and the government's guard forces were dressed in clothes that were similar to armor, though their colors were different. All of the goods stands were located at the edges of the square; at its center was the real deal. The crowd held their eyes high, surrounding a wall that was vertically attached to the side of the House of Parliament.

At the top of the wall stood five individuals in an orderly line, one behind the other, each covered from head to toe in a thick, lavish curtain-like cloth, decorated with impressive golden embroidery. Around each of the prisoner's necks, a metal band kept the cloth in place. Three of the figures—the middle ones—wore something that reminded Shiro of red; the one who stood at the head of the line was covered in purple, and the remaining one in black. 

Each one of the figures was chained to a priest standing to their right, as well to each other. Another figure—maybe another priest, or a shaman, Shiro couldn't tell—stood in the front, rattling a few keys that were tied together, chanting a strange song.

Shiro felt a chill down his spine just by looking at them.

"Excuse me," Shiro spoke through his translator to someone nearby who looked like a security guard. "It's my first time on this planet. May I ask what kind of festival it is?"

The security guard straightened their back, their head held high, looking down at Shiro with small, fiery eyes. Their smile was filled with sharp teeth. Their skin was light blue, nose and mouth a tad long, similar to a dog. "This is a festival in the name of our Death Goddess, Mavvet. Every two weeks during the Season of the Goddess, the most vicious and vile criminals are executed and become the servants of our Goddess. You're in luck, my friend—the ceremony will start soon! Do you see the Great Wall of Redemption?"

Shiro nodded as he looked up again, doing his best to keep a calm façade.

The security guard smiled proudly. "The punishment is a jump to their death. You cannot see it from here because of the crowd but they won't hit the ground when they jump; it is a pit from which there is no return. No one knows what will happen to them at the bottom, because no one has ever come back to pass on the tale. It is assumed that the Goddess waits there and consumes the criminals with her flames, with her claws and fangs—but who knows!"

"What if a criminal is convicted by mistake?"

"Conviction? Mistake? Ha! There's no such thing. Judgment is absolute. It is never wrong. All criminals plead guilty and willingly sacrifice themselves to our Goddess. They're very lucky to have such honor; alternative punishments would've been much worse. This punishment is good for them—they find redemption in the hands of the Goddess."

"But… they're chained."

"Of course! They're prisoners!"

The guard smiled, and Shiro felt a lump in his throat.

"And what do the colors mean?"

"Someone is eager to learn about our culture! I like tourists like you. Let me tell you, then: the colors have to do with the type of crime. The three covered in crimson are rapists; the one covered in onyx is a murderer; and the one covered in indigo is a traitor. Sadly, we have a lot of these colors lately, but there are others, of course. But thanks to the Goddess and our efficient government, they all meet their rightful end, while having the chance to redeem themselves by sacrificing themselves to Her Supremacy!"

"Right," Shiro forced a smile and hoped he looked sincere, "thank you for the detailed explanation. That was fascinating."

"You're welcome! I hope you enjoy today's execution!"

"I'm sure I will…" 

The security guard bowed and walked away. Shiro looked at their back, his frown deepening.

How could there be fair judgment with no trial? 

He suddenly felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning, he saw another security guard, who looked almost identical to the previous one. Their expression, however, was much less courageous and proud; it was squeezed into a worried frown.

"Sir…" they mumbled, their voice almost inaudible. 

"Can I help you?" Shiro asked. After the individual indicated for him to follow, he walked silently behind them, until both reached the edge of the square, near an empty goods stand. 

They had dark blue skin and were much taller than others of their kind, definitely taller than Shiro. Their face was flat and small, eyes soft with the color of the ocean. Their armor was colorful and decorative—was this… a guard? A citizen?

"You are the Shiro, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I am a guard from the district prison. I was on duty when they brought him… The Voltron leader said a Shiro would come and help us. Just before he was taken away. Please, you're a Shiro , you have to help!"

Shiro's heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening. "You met him? Where is he? Where did they take him?"

They gulped and looked at the five individuals standing on top of the wall. 

Shiro's eyes rose towards them as well, his heart pumping gravely, the tips of his fingers tingling with anxiety. He tried to look for any sign of Keith's identity, but the heavy curtains were making it hard to distinguish between them. 

Fuck.

"I wasn't meant to see him. Anyone who looks at criminals' faces gets killed on sight. This is how they do it. They convince the people it's our Goddess's will, but our Goddess doesn't care about who dies—she accepts everyone, criminals or otherwise. This festival… It's a fraud. It's just them. You see that metal band around their necks?"

Shiro nodded solemnly.

"It's not only for keeping the ritual curtain in place, or for indicating humiliation. It keeps the prisoners… submissive. Hollow, almost. They can't… disobey."

Shiro frowned deeply. Whatever the Blades investigated and Keith found—was crystal clear now.  

"I knew the execution was nearing," the guard continued, "and he looked familiar, so I talked to him, but I was caught looking at his face. I managed to escape and change my appearance so they didn't catch me."

Shiro nodded. "What did he tell you?"

The guard bowed their head, looking around. "He wanted me to give this to the Shiro that would come," their fist hovered over Shiro's for a moment; then, a small, purple chip fell into his palm. It was a Blade device, one that usually stored valuable intelligence. Blades only gave it to others when they believed they wouldn't be able to keep it safe themselves. 

Or rather, that they wouldn't be able to survive. 

"He said, if you see someone who looks a bit like me but taller, strongly built, white hair, a scar on his face—that's Shiro. Promise you'll give this to him. He will make sure to free your people. I know not how he knew a Shiro would come here, but he was certain. I could see it in his eyes."

Shiro squeezed his fist around the chip before placing it at the base of his metal palm. 

He delivered a message to Pidge through his wrist before looking at the security guard again.

"Which one is he?" He asked.

"The one at the far right, the indigo," the guard said. It was the one under the deep purple curtain. "They thought it appropriate to accuse him of treason."

"How can I be sure that it's him?" Shiro's eyes pierced the one in front of him. 

"The feet," they replied.

The wind was in Shiro's favor; the curtains were flapping gently in the breeze. At the lower part of the indigo curtain, he saw it, even when it was a mere momentary glance: bare human feet.

He had to get up there.

"Thank you," Shiro whispered, his voice trembling, "for delivering his message. Please—may I know your name?"

The guard was hesitant. "Benrid."

"Benrid," Shiro smiled. "Thank you so much. Now, you must go and find somewhere safe to hide. I'll find a way to get up there."

He had to save Keith, no matter what. And if they were about to execute him just like that, with no trial, hiding his identity—how could Shiro know the other criminals were even criminals to begin with? What if it was just an execution of dissidents, performed every festival without anyone knowing the horrible truth?

"I will show you the way," the guard said. 

Shiro blinked. "Are you certain?"

The guard nodded. "You and the Voltron leader are doing your best to free our kind from this terrible tyranny. You already did much—of course I want to help. It will be an honor."

Shiro took a deep breath and finally nodded. Keith didn't have much time—there was no place for debate. 

"Let's go through the crowd. They will have a hard time seeing us this way," the guard told him, and Shiro instantly followed.

It was hard to make his way between the sea of tourists and locals. Keeping track of Benrid was a rather tough mission, but as the guard said, the authorities weren't able to see them between the packed crowd, even more so with their heavy costumes. He mumbled an apology every now and then if a stranger made eye contact, yet with every fiber of his body, he wanted to just push anyone in his way.

They reached a side door on the wall of the House of Parliament, one that was intended for security and state workers. Shiro watched when Benrid looked around, and then suddenly gasped: the guard pulled him underneath his robe. 

"Don't make a sound. Walk in unison with me: they won't notice you. There is surveillance inside, so be careful."

Shiro held onto Benrid's side, pressing himself to their metallic armor. Benrid, in turn, did something to his arm that Shiro didn't catch, but after that, they held their bent arm against their chest, thus giving Shiro enough room within the robe so he would not be detected.

Benrid said a few words to someone in their foreign tongue, then kept walking. Shiro's breath was low; Black's consciousness within him helped him see where he was going.

The insides of the House of Parliament was nothing like the outside. If the guards, the square, and people reminded him of 16th century England—he realized it was only for the festival. The halls and rooms of the building were glassy, spacious, and sanitized. The aliens around were wearing elegant bodysuits, holding hologram projectors and other devices Shiro had never seen in his life. 

Someone turned to Benrid again, and Shiro imagined it was to ask why they were inside; then, they were led to a room on another floor, using a hovering elevator.

When Benrid let Shiro out of his robe, he realized they were in some kind of medical bay. 

"Quick," Benrid told him, "The surveillance in this room isn't working, and the technicians can come here only after the festival is over for the day."

"What about you?"

"I dislocated a bone in my arm so they will have a distraction. Don't worry—I am able to do that by choice, and it won't cause me harm. Now, that door on the side leads to the equipment storage room. On the left wall there is a mural of the Goddess of Healing. Touch her forehead with yours, and a secret passage will open, which would lead you to a hall behind the ministry department. Go the entire length of the hall, and count five windows. The sixth is the window that has direct access to the Wall of Redemption. Now please, hurry. I can hear the ceremony has already begun."

Shiro thanked the guard again and left, his body fueled with fear and determination. 

Keith, he thought, I'm coming.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The more Shiro kept going, the faster his heart beat. His fists clenched, his breath rapid.

The way wasn't necessarily long but it was unnerving.

The Goddess of Healing—the Goddess of Death's wife, so he had heard—was somewhat comforting; her presence was warm once he touched her forehead on the mural. Other than that, Shiro ran silently through halls, tiptoeing behind the ministry department, and stopped right beside the fifth window. 

He scanned the wall, the prisoners, the shamans that led the ritual, trying to think: how can he—?

His breath stopped when a voice came from his translator.

"… At last, the time has arrived! The sacrifices for our Almighty Goddess of Death—criminals of the lowest and most vile degree—will give themselves to serve Her for all eternity, and thus will find redemption in the world of the dead. First, we shall begin with crimes against the state: treachery. Indigo, step forward."

Shiro bit his lips as he saw the one in indigo being released from the chains that connected him to the other prisoners, the priest near him dragging him forward. 

Shiro couldn't tell if the crowd cheered or booed; their faces were too far away to read and their shouts were too chaotic for his translator. 

But did public opinion matter at all, when even they were being played in this despicable game?

The one in indigo stopped right before the edge. 

"Do you accept your new role in the afterlife under the direct rule of Her Supremacy, our Great Goddess Mavvet, to be her servant for all eternity? If you do, bow once."

The figure made no move at all. 

"Shiro?" Pidge's voice whispered directly in his mind.

Shiro looked at his metal arm, pressing a small dot of blue light that blinked in the middle of his wrist. Almost any communication through his arm, for the sake of discretion, was connected through the quintessence within it, allowing the voices to be carried without the need for an external communicator. 

His eyes were glued to that slightly trembling figure, still not bowing—was he trying to resist? 

That's my Keith.

"Pidge," he pressed two fingers to his forehead as he delivered his thoughts, "what's the status of reinforcement?"

"Ready to go," her soft voice responded. "The MFEs and the Blades are with us as well. We're all nearby and await your signal."

"Good. And what about Keith's data?"

"All of the information you're sending us is being transcribed, backed up and sent to the authorities as we speak. You're doing a great job, Shiro. Keith did, too."

Shiro let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. That was the only reason he didn't put a stop to it all just yet—no matter how much he wanted to tear everything apart and get Keith into his protective arms already, he knew the importance of proof. He would have to be precise in his actions, both in bringing these assholes down and in making sure to get Keith to safety. "Do not engage until Keith is safe. Your signal will be simple: the moment I have him, you intervene."

"Copy that. I will signal you once the data download is complete. And Shiro?"

"Yes?"

"You'll bring him back safely. I know it."

Shiro was about to respond but jumped when he heard the translator repeating the same words from a few moments ago.

"If you agree," the shaman repeated, "Bow. Once."

Shiro saw a flash of faint light on the metal band around the individual's neck. It was barely noticeable, a mere blink. 

After that, the figure bowed once. 

"The sacrifice is decided! Indigo, once you fall into the hands of our Goddess—your sins and crimes will be pardoned completely."

Shiro's eyes were focused, his muscles itching to move. 

Come on, Pidge!

"You may cross over now. This government and the people bless you on your way."

The figure beneath the indigo curtain took small, unsure steps to the edge of the wall; Shiro could see it by the slowness, by the tremble that was only slightly visible. 

"Shiro!" Pidge's voice rang in his ears, "go!"

Without a single moment of hesitation, he jumped through the window; adrenaline born of fear and rage pumped his muscles, pushing him onward with force. His eyes wide, when he reached the wall, he pulled the chains that connected the prisoners and the priests together, making them fall backwards to safety. He punched the shaman that held the keys and stole them—to make sure none of the other prisoners would be forced to jump to their death again.

Keith was already falling. The cloth around him was flapping in the air heavily yet gracefully, the golden embroidery glittering in the sunlight. 

Shiro leaped right after him and reached his arms out. He embraced Keith and pressed him to his chest, turning their bodies so that his was beneath Keith's, quickly trying to calculate the angle in which he—

It triggered something in Shiro's memory. It was a memory he shouldn't have had at all, yet it still found itself exploding in his mind. 

Keith's beautiful, worried face, illuminated in lilac light and the vast space around them, watching Shiro as they both fell down into their doom. Keith closed his eyes in acceptance of their upcoming death...

But it wasn't only acceptance. It was a promise. 

A promise Shiro was returning right now.

He closed his eyes, allowing the same fate to try and take them again. 

But then—

I'm here, my Paladins. Just like then, with you.

Right then, a big shadow covered them. Shiro's eyes opened as he gasped, and that was when he saw Black, its mouth opened, its big, bright wings pressed to its metal body to give it speed as it dived. It caught them just before they entered the pit, letting them inside the cockpit. 

They rolled behind the seat and found themselves on the floor. Shiro was still securing Keith with his tight embrace, panting heavily while trying to process what just happened.  

Thank you , he murmured in his mind once he calmed down.

It wasn't only me. The Goddess of Death didn't accept the offering. Even she knows the importance of the Black Paladins of Voltron.

Shiro blinked and sat up, letting Keith's upper body lean on his thighs. He let out a relieved smile and examined the device that kept the heavy curtain over Keith's head. He broke open the metal band and, after carefully removing it from Keith's neck, crushed it in his prosthetic palm and tossed it aside. 

At last, Keith's body relaxed against him. Removing the heavy purple cloth from his husband's head, Shiro gasped at the sight of those dark circles beneath Keith's closed eyes, the dryness of his lips, the bruises on his cheekbone and chin. He kissed every single one of them, each kiss gentle yet slow, filled with devotion. 

He was angry that it all ended up like this, but even more than that—he was relieved .

It's okay. He's alive. He's here, breathing, free—

"Keith…!" He choked and his eyes instantly watered. He pulled Keith in his arms and pressed him to himself again, one arm around his back and the other cupping the back of his head, gently digging fingers into his black hair. He sobbed against the top of Keith's head, rocking his limp body back and forth, releasing every inch of anxiety in the form of streaming tears. 

"Shiro…?" The whisper reached his ear and made his heart leap. 

"Keith!" 

A pair of purple-grey eyes gazed at him, barely open. They were so beautiful glittering in Black's inner lights, even when Shiro saw them through his tears. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Shiro whispered, lifting Keith so that they faced each other completely, his prosthetic still enveloped around Keith, his flesh palm cupping his cheek. 

Keith smiled weakly. "Hi," he groaned, leaning against Shiro's hand. "I knew you'd come." 

"As many times as it takes, remember?" Shiro kissed Keith's forehead, moving the bangs away from his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"... Mainly tired… but also, strange…"

"Strange how?"

"Never thought someone would be able to control my body like that, you know?"

Shiro's smile couldn't hide the sting the words caused in his chest. "Welcome to the club," he chuckled ruefully.

A frown formed on Keith's face, and then—his eyes widened. His fist gripped Shiro's shirt and he tried to sit up but his body was too weak.

"It's okay… it's okay," Shiro helped him sit up and lean against him. "Sorry. It was a bad joke."

"Still—"

"We talked about it many times, Keith. It really is fine. Besides, it's not the point right now. Are you sure you're okay?"

Keith nodded, smiling a bit. After nuzzling his forehead against Shiro's, he pressed his lips to Shiro's mouth gently. "Thank you for saving me, Shiro."

"Of course. You'd do the same for me… You already have, several times. Maybe I'm just your damsel in distress."

When Keith finally laughed, Shiro felt his insides warm up. It was probably the best sound in the universe.

"Maybe. But not this time." 

Shiro kissed him again, this time longly. He just wanted to hold him like this forever, kiss him like this forever, cherish him like he deserved. 

"Besides… we made a vow, didn't we?"

"Our vows…"

"Yes. For better, for worse; in sickness and in health. Even death won't do us part. Now, let's go home, mm?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."