Chapter Text
Keith knew that something had gone wrong as soon as Shiro walked through the door.
He could hear the cheers and feel the joy that radiated from the kingdom that evening. It gave him hope in a time of uncertainty, uncertainty that everything had gone successfully from out of his reach and watchful eye. Shiro and his mission squad had returned, allowing men and women to return to their waiting families after nearly two weeks of utter worry. Keith had been one of the worriers. When Lance left with them, clad in armor and armed with weapons that were hard to imagine on such a gentle person, a place in his heart hollowed that would not be filled until his return.
This is why his breath was halted when he watched Shiro walk into the throne room.
When Shiro shuddered as he entered, having victory but not feeling victorious. He froze because Shiro walked in, and Lance didn"t.
His best friend dragged himself with every step, weighted by something far from physical. His head was hung and shoulders were shaking, his eyes were wide. A rock - nay, a boulder surged into Keith"s heart and sunk to the bottom - his nerves were suddenly fired up. Something was incredibly, unmistakably wrong. ". . .Where is Lance?"
Shiro craned his neck upward, making not even a second of eye contact with the king before falling to his knees. The metal of his armor rang through the room, crushing upon force into the tile. His heaving was heavy and his throat was tight - he should never in his life be the one to do what he was about to.
Keith watches with fear that doesn"t stand down, taking to his feet with urgency. "Where is Lance?"
The Royal Guard Captain had always had a special ability for shedding tears oh so silently.
It never altered his voice, but his face was absolutely drenched. He looked up, but he could not look Keith in the eyes. He could never face him after what he"d done, after what he had let happen, and right in front of him. "Lance," His throat shook, warbling with memory. ". . .is missing in action."
The room froze over with dread. Keith was halted where he stood, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaped. In front of him, Shiro remained crouched on his knees - still and silent. The only noise filling the space was the gentle tap of tears on marble tile.
"He was shot in the shoulder, but his body was never found after the Galra had retreated from the fight and left. We have only assumed the worst. All signs lead to him being taken by General Sendak and his men."
A fire blazed within Keith, one that would scorch and never smother. A foot crashed forward, strong but not sturdy. "You promised me that you would protect him," He muttered, dark and bitter in tone. "You said that no harm would come to him! Shiro, you promised it to me! I never should have let him go!"
"It was not your choice! We were all trapped - they cornered us into a cave and demanded our surrender. Lance went with me to talk with their general and he threw himself into the crossfire to save my life, I owe him mine as I owe it to his father. That was Lance"s choice!"
"There is nothing you can give to him if. . ." Bile tapped Keith"s tongue. "if he really is gone.
"You will tell me exactly what happened and then you will prepare a mission to find him. No matter the cost, he will be returned. I would like to be very clear when I tell you this:" Keith stares down at Shiro, wilting back into his chair. Tears began to fill his brooding eyes and soak his ivory skin. "It should have been you."
Shiro takes a breath, eyes widening with fear as the memory shot back through his head. The trauma surrounded him like a storm cloud, with no escape from the flooding rain and blood-thirsty lighting.
—————-.+*0*+.—————-
A small army surrounded the cave, twenty men and twenty horses. They were all lusting to feel the blood of their enemies on their fingertips, they had since the morning, when they approached the cavern while the crew slept. "We"ve caught your squad in the act, Marmoran scum. Surrender now and return what you"ve stolen from the Galra Empire. We will have no choice but to open fire on your battalion if you do not cooperate."
Lance seizes Shiro"s shoulder, halting him. "Let me go with you, Shiro. If they kill our general, we all become their prisoners. I will not let that happen to these men, they have families. I can"t-"
There was no time to think before their men would be under the wrath of bullets. The Galra, the original species of all Marmorans before they formed a kingdom of peace, had become the first in the world to develop hand-held firearms. Unfortunately for the brigade, Marmora was still honoring the strict code of manual weaponry. Lance wielded his bow and arrow like no other, taking to it immediately and rising to the top archer of his class. He followed Shiro out of the cave that they"d been cornered into, head high and weapon ready. Lance had become his best soldier and right hand man - Shiro would be lying if he said he"d never expected Lance to stand tall and put his life down for the group.
"We haven"t stolen anything from you, General Sendak. Zarkon left an open challenge for this crystal and we"ve bested you. We have earned our safety as we return to Marmora - I hope you plan on keeping your word, as the other groups have."
Sendak scoffed, loading his gun with bullets thick enough to cork a wine bottle. "Were you made up of enough imbeciles to think our kind would leave a chunk of pure quintessence out and prime for the picking? Your are weak of body and weak of mind."
"My men have earned-"
"What"s this?" Sendak piped up with amusement, his head turned to Lance. "You"ve got an Altean in your little mission group. You really did decide to walk the route of idiocy, Shirogane, in the form of befriending such a weak race. I"ve killed more Alteans than people you"ve met, boy. How did you survive my massacre?"
Lance drew an arrow from his back pouch, ready to lift and launch in necessary. "Let us go home or I"ll kebob your good eye and your brain all on one arrow!"
"This couldn"t be more perfect for me. Zarkon will have to knight me a second time after I bring you to his feet:" Sendak cackles, loading his gun and holding it between his thick fingers. "The head of Takashi Shirogane and a King of Marmora at his mercy - he will have terrible things planned for you, boy."
"I"m going to have to decline, General Sendak." Shiro said, ripping his sword from its sheath. "All of my men will be making it home to their families today - that is a promise to you and to them."
Sendak aimed his gun with practiced accuracy, targeting the upper-right rib cage of the General. "Still a fool."
"Shiro!"
—————-.+*0*+.—————-
Keith had been locked in his room for six months. In an hour, he"d have to attend the funeral of the man he"d loved for so long. There was no way to prove he had truly died at the hands of the galra, but he didn"t have the heart to do it any later if it was to be true. To accept the possibility of Lance"s death had killed Keith from the inside. However, it had always been Lance"s greatest regret that he never had a proper send off for his father. Keith be damned if he repeated that mistake.
The first week was easy. Nothing had settled in yet. Keith slept alone and he ate alone too. Shiro would not meet with him until he couldn"t, having left for Lance"s rescue mission the very next day. He had accepted that Lance was still alive somewhere, and that Keith would see him again when Shiro came back.
It was the third week when Shiro returned. Keith waited by the gates each day, suffering impatiently so that he could hug his love and they could laugh about it all later. It wasn"t until Shiro came back with only one more soul - but a horse, that it all settled in.
Lance was not in the Galra dungeons, and no one recalled ever seeing a face like his within the confines of the castle. He really was missing, lost somewhere in the world without a clue to his location. For all Keith knew, he could be an angel flying right over his head, weeping tears that Keith still had hope. He looked up to the cloudy sky, seeing nothing. Shiro shook his head. Keith cried the most tears he had since his father"s passing.
Keith had especially cried the fourth week, the twenty-sixth day, and all of months two, three and four - Lance"s and his fifteenth wedding anniversary. Lance had promised to be home to celebrate their day of love, fifteen years after the happiest day of his life. He spent the day sitting in the garden of Lance"s old home, fingers grazing over pumpkins and jabbing themselves on rose thorns. Haggar had since passed on and no one knows what became of her sons. He watered the roses with his tears, filled the well, and cried into the empty barn.
In the following fifth month, Keith only ever got up to look out of the window from his room. He could only bear it for a minute or two. Once he and Lance chose to move into the same space, desiring a larger room together in the castle, they found the perfect one - a window view of the gardens. They could see bridge where they had been engaged perfectly.
Presently, nearing the end of month six as Keith mourned, he realized something that truly withered his heart and hollowed his chest: Keith never even said his proper goodbyes. He was too devastated that Lance had been chosen to go on that mission, too angry that he had accepted. He couldn"t bear to see him go so he decided he wouldn"t.
What an idiot he was.
So he sat down. Not on his bed or on his windowsill, but at his old writing desk. Up in the tower where his old room still sat, untouched, to Lance"s sole request. It was the same place where he had written his old letters to the handsome boy from the market, and it was the place where he sat to write one now.
My Dearest Beloved,
I cannot count the days it had been since you left. I still feel you beside me often, but every time I reach to take your hand or graze your face, I hold air that makes me clench my fist and wail. My wedding ring is dull and heavy without you. The bed is too big and your clothes are too small. I used to think that the world had shrunk as well, but it grows every time that I think. I think about the places that you could be, including the heavens and the hundreds of locations that you are not. There is not enough room in hell"s keep for a heart as big as yours.
I still remember seeing you for the first time. You were absolutely livid with me but you wore your anger so well - though not nearly as tenderly as your smile. Thank you for a limited amount of years but an infinite amount of memories and love, love that transcends the boundaries of past romances. In every universe and in every life I have loved you, and I can"t wait to see you in the next. In time, I will be able to hold you close and tell you this without mere parchment filtering my untamed emotion.
I weep every day. I wail every night. I look to the night sky and though it kills me, a part of me tells me that you"re up there with Mother and Dad and your own family, waiting for me to join you. Soon, Lance. Soon.
Keith
He rolled the message, stained with tears and infused with sorrow, and placed it in the collar of his shirt, over his heart. With that done, he warbled his way down the stairs and to the throne room, then into the grand room where Lance and Shiro had formally met. Csses of weapons and military memorabilia filled the room, centuries worth of Marmoran legacies trapped in glass. Though, Keith knew exactly where he was headed. Fairly and painly recently in his family"s legacy.
His father"s sword.
He upturned the glass and ran his hand over the smooth handle, embedded with stones of violet and maroon. When he lifted it, his weak frame momentarily stumbled to support it, but he managed nonetheless.
Kieth marched back to his room with his head high. Dark circles hung heavy under his dim eyes and his frame was nearing an unhealthily thin nature. The sword was dragged behind him, the blade scraping the marble tile and leaving a scar trail where he walked. He did this all the way back to the room he and Lance once shared, eyebrows furrowed although he contemplated nothing.
He managed to crawl up to the windowsill and stand on it, sword in hand. He brought the blade to his chest vertically, resting between his eyes as he looked right into it"s core. Soon.
"King Kogane," A maid knocked on his door, voice scrambling. He had ordered the staff to leave him be at all times unless it was of the utmost importance. Groaning, he dropped the sword unceremoniously, listening to the rattle as it rested on the ground below. "There is a man outside who requests your presence at once."
"Leave me be."
"He claims that it involves information regarding King Lance, your majesty."
Sitting up, Keith"s voice is garbled and hoarse. He has a single spark of hope, but he fully expects it to die, smothered by another pain-faced Shiro or glory hog. So many people have come to him demanding money for information. He"d always given in, desperate for anything that could bring Lance home, or even prove he was still breathing. He hadn"t once received a word for his worry.
The door swings open, but silence lays in its wake. The only person who would sit in silence like this was Shiro, always showing up with no results and a million apologies after a moment of stillness. The last thing Keith wanted was to hear his voice, was his apologies and his lack of mission"s fruition.
"I told you that I wouldn"t hear any of it, Shiro. You told me you would protect him and I"ll be attending his funeral in less than an hour."
When he didn"t hear the click of the door he desired, he turned around with a jolt. "I told you to-!"
"I missed you."
A figure composed of tan skin and bones leaned in the doorway. It had also been purpled and blacked and blued. Keith turned back around, gasping and fearing that he"d seen a ghost, an apparition, hell, he"d even believe that a mirage were here to torture him. The figure then shuddered behind him, falling to the floor. The sound of the thin man hitting the ground was very, very real.
"Keith," He mumbled, slurred, hoarse and almost unintelligible. "I cannot see you."
Keith hurried to the floor where the man laid, skidding onto his knees and holding him up. He thrusts him upwards and pulls him close, holding his head to his chest without words. They stayed like that for a long, long moment, rocking slowly and embracing one another desperately. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The man shifts, his face still hidden.
"You"d better be Keith or I"ll sick him on you." Lance joked. He put a hand on his arm, holding his bicep. He then patted upward, touching all the way to his shoulder, then his back, then his hair. He tugged on Keith"s long, ratted hair, unkempt and oily from weeks and weeks of no care. "I would know that hair anywhere, Rapunzel. I missed you."
Lance drew closer and hid his face in his collarbones, resting there. "You smell like our bed."
"Where have you been?" Keith demands, tears welling up in his eyes for the hundredth time that week. "He said you were dead, and I. . . I-"
He was cut off when he touched Lance, cupped him by the cheeks. The terrain around his temples was tough and coarse. When Keith lifted his face, ready to kiss his forehead and hold him, he gasped and freezed instead.
His entire face was littered with scars big and small, like a forest is covered with trees. The massacre was centered from around his eyes. It would be a miracle if they were of any use after abuse like that. The fire in Keith grew and grew, fueled by how Lance had suffered. Keith began to cry again, looking at his husband, knowing he couldn"t look back at him.
"Lance, what happened?" He quivered, running his thumb down Lance"s nose. Lance winced, some of the scars recent. Keith"s lip trembled, eyes too watery to see him clearly. "Why would they do this to you? Oh, Lance. . ."
"Because I am an Altean." Lance replies. "Because I am someone who came from nothing but became something. Because I married a man, because I am a king. They yelled a lot of things at me - it"s a miracle I"m not deaf as well."
Keith heaved once, feeling nauseous, livid and heartbroken all in one twisted disaster. He cradled Lance"s head and leaned his own forehead against his, rocking them slowly. Lance"s breath mingled on his skin, shuddering heavily. "I am so sorry."
"It was not your fault." Lance mumbled sternly, wrapping his arms around Keith"s middle. He sounded exhausted. "You"re warm. It was so cold where they kept me."
"They? Who, Lance? Where?"
"The Galra, right after they trapped us and ambushed the group. I don"t know where they kept me. I was never told and I was never able to find out. They, uhm. . ." Lance stumbles. "I lost my sight before I could even see what the walls were made of. Zarkon would come in a lot, he would ask about you. Your weaknesses, your allies. . ."
"Did he know that you are both?" Keith turns Lance over and lays his head on his lap, stroking his hair. Tears fell onto Lance"s face from the position he was in, but wiping them away was certainly easier than escaping an underground base. "You didn"t lose anything, Lance. Your sight was taken from you, and for that they will pay dearly."
"No," Lance says, sitting up and turning around. "Please, no more wars, no blood on our hands. The things that happened to me were cruel, but they saved the lives of the men and women who fought with me; they are home now. To send them back out to the battlefield on my behalf... that would be despicable."
"Then what can I do, Lance?" Keith asks, touching Lance"s left hand before getting up. It bare, but he felt so overjoyed to be touching his hand again. No air or handfuls of empty sheets. He reaches over to their dresser and pulls a small wooden box from within Lance"s garments. Keith opens it and pulls out his ring, then walks back over to him. Lance had left it with Keith, not risking the chances of losing it in the middle of nowhere. When the one still seated feels the familiar weight of it on his finger, he uses his other hand to gently caress it, smiling softly.
Lance kisses the ring gently, then reaches for Keith"s hand, who gives it to him willingly. "You can promise me that you won"t ever leave my side. Not even if Zarkon was outside of this palace, his head ready to roll at your feet. I wouldn"t survive another hour without you."
Keith cries. Tears roll down his cheeks and he hiccups like a child, but he couldn"t feel anything besides joy in that moment. Though the waiting and eager feelings of rage and despair crept up on him slowly, he punted them away like stones in the road. He kisses Lance"s forehead softly, holding him tight to seal his promise. "I will always be there. Even if you scream at me to leave you, you"ll never be rid of me."
"That sounds perfect to me. Is the bed that way?" Lance asks, pointing to the door with a helpless look. Keith smiles and helps him up, sitting next to him on their large bunk. "Do you look any different, have you changed since the last time I saw you?"
Lance reaches out and touches his chin, feeling rough stubble stab at his fingers. He smiles. "I worked so hard to get you into a morning routine, Keith! How could you?" He teases. The fact that he smiles and laughs and years for a bed has Keith in shock, but knowing his husband, he won"t be surprised for long.
"We"re equal. I have a few gray hairs now, thanks to you. I haven"t trained in ages, either."
"Do I have gray hair?"
Keith examines his hairline, pursing his lips. Just a few, but not enough to call him a silver fox over. "Only a little."
"Pull them." Lance whines, curling up under the comforter pushing his head toward Keith.
"Not now, Lance. It"s time to sleep."
"I could have sworn that I heard you say that my funeral is in an hour. Wouldn"t it be funny if I showed up?"
"Shhhhh, Lance."
And there they laid, lost in the wild tangle of fate.
Many obstacles attempted to stop them in this life. Family, status, opportunity - it was as if someone up above was betting against them, trying to force them apart with brutal walls and great distances. However, they bested every challenge. Hopped every wall, swam every river, charged every valley. All so that a boy, beautiful inside and out, and a prince heavy of crowns and light of heart could find pure, endless sources love only in one another.
As Lance finally began to rest, Keith watched over him, just as he always had. He sang a tune to lullaby the other, gently stroking his hair and looking nothing but lovingly at him as he did so:
"Lavenders green, dilly dilly; Lavenders blue. You shall love me, dilly dilly, for I love you."