#dark!keith

Being the Paladin of the Red Lion meant gaining its approval. The Paladin must be sharp of wit, strong of will, and with a distinct sense of morality in the favor of peace. Keith was all of these things. He wouldn't crack. He couldn't. Not against Haggar. But when Haggar brings out a new weapon to defeat Voltron and its Paladins and uses Keith as a test subject, all of that goes out the airlock.

And it's up to Shiro to save the one person he loves most in the entire universe...even at the cost of himself.

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.......... Designation: PRIORITY TARGET

Identifier: Keith ░░░░░░ Known Associates: Coran of Altea (mentor), Emperor Alfor (commander), Princess Allura (ally), other Paladins of Voltron Engagement Protocol: Engage at a distance, and only in groups. Bayard is a sword; also carries a ceremonial sacred dagger. Extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat and fully in control of sacred Altean magic. Notes: Like Shiro, Keith was handpicked at a young age. Born of an Altean parent and a human father, Keith found little place in either civilization until his father tired of his “monster” son and dumped him on the streets, where he found Shiro. They bonded rapidly, and their combined combat prowess, even as young as they were, caught the attention of Alfor and Coran. Coran chose Keith, recognizing in him the same fanatical devotion to Shiro that Coran felt for his Emperor, and Keith took to Paladin training like breathing. His devotion is first and foremost to Shiro; although he serves Alfor gladly and takes his orders, he loves the Black Paladin. The Red Right Hand of Voltron is the stuff of nightmares and whispered legends, and much like his beloved commander, his name is spoken in whispers if at all. Keith is not known to have received any enhancements beyond what has come naturally from the maturation of his abilities as half-Altean.

Alt!Keith would love Kuro.  He’s everything that Alt!Keith thought Shiro was.  Kuro wouldn’t have as much fun messing around with Alt!Keith as he did with real Keith.  His weaker self doesn’t care about Alt!Keith for one thing, and he’s just not as nice and sweet and horrified by Kuro’s behavior as Keith is.

Warning: Suicide

Note: Was originally going to post this as a separate thing, but I think it fits bets as an explanation at this point in the story.  Enjoy the interlude into the past.

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The Champion is magnificent.  Bloodthirsty and clever.  He faced a hundred aliens faster and stronger than him in the arena and came out victorious.  He is also the first of his Father’s race that Keith has ever seen.

His mother had come back from a scouting mission pregnant with the bastard child of a backwater race on a planet with nothing of strategic value.  Interbreeding was hardly frowned upon in the empire.  In fact it was quite encouraged in the case of bringing in useful traits to the population as a whole.  The boy she gave birth to was not one of these cases.  He was small and soft.  He possessed none of the natural advantages of the Galra, and seemed at that tender age to bring nothing new to compensate.  His nature had been an embarrassment to his mother’s family.

When his mother died, it seemed that he would be cast out.  Thrown from his familial home to make his way in the world alone.  He would have been so much trash, if not for his uncle seeing the spark of something greater in his eyes.

He had been taken in, and shaped like a finely tuned weapon.  His uncle’s molding had been harsh.  Were others were merely expected to succeed he was expected to excel.  He was to be the quickest, the cleverest, the most learned, and the most skilled of all his peers.  His upbringing had left scars, but it had created the Galra he was today.

Once unleashed upon the world, it had been a matter of course that he would reach the uppermost levels of honor and power.  He showed a cruelty to the enemies of the empire unmatched by others.  The mere presence of his ship on the battlefield caused his enemies to flee in terror.  His prowess and blood thirstiness eventually caught the eye of the Emperor, and when offered the position of Prince, he had accepted his due.

Now in the sands of the arena he saw a kindred soul.  Someone else with soft flesh who tore to shreds any who dared underestimate him.  A member of his Father’s race, demonstrating that he was not bred from an inferior strain, but a race to be respected.  Keith would meet him, and he would be his.

.

The Champion stands quietly, as Keith circles him.  Mute but wary under his examination.  He is taller than Keith.  It’s disappointing to see that even among his Father’s kind he is short.  His muscle are bigger, and his frame as a whole dwarfs him.  The effect is oddly appealing, and he decides that he can forgive the Champion his size.

“Champion, what is your name?” Keith asks.

“Takashi Shirogane,” The Champion answers, his eyes not wavering from their forward position.

“Takashi Shirogane,” Keith tries the name in his mouth.  It is strange, but not the hardest he’s ever been asked to pronounce, “I assume that is your whole name, what is your given?”

“Takashi,” Hmmmm, yes, he thinks he likes the alieness of it.  A constant reminder to all who hear, that the Champion is not one of the Galra.

“He will do,” Keith says to the guards who brought Takashi to him, “I expect him in my quarters by morning.”  He turns and leaves them to his orders.

.

Takashi is everything he could have ever dreamed of possessing.  Knowledgeable about his Father’s species, a deadly fighter to be shown off in the ring, and a beautiful play mate in bed.  If he could ascribe any flaw to the man, it is that he is a tad monosyllabic at times.  Conversation truly doesn’t seem to be his strong point.  He takes it in stride, though.  He much prefers to be listened to, and Takashi is an excellent listener.

.

Keith hurries through the halls.  The desert in his hands will surely cheer his pet up.  He’s been terribly depressed of late.  Keith really should have refused to look up the fates of the humans that had been captured with him, but Shiro had asked so nicely.  Did all the things he liked with his tongue, then caught him in the after glow.  He would have given the man the world in that moment.  What was done was done, though.  Takashi knew about his fellow humans’ deaths in the work camps.  

Keith couldn’t understand why he cared so much.  His first act in the arena had to be attack one of them in his eagerness to fight.  Of course, considering what he knew of the species so far, maybe such acts of violence where how they showed affection.  No matter, he was carrying his pets favorite treat.  Everything would be fine.

Keith found Takashi in their bedroom.  Sitting on the edge of their bed staring at his prosthetic hand as he activated it and deactivated it rhythmically. “I’ve brought you something,” Keith announced, opening the box to show him the goodies inside.  Takashi looked up at the confections for a moment, then went back to staring at his hand.  “Don’t be like that, you know you love them,” Keith said.  Takashi continued to stare.  “Come now, if you eat quickly, you can finish a few before your next match,” Keith cajoled.  

Takashi’s arm stopped flashing, but he didn’t look up, “Match?” Takashi asked quietly.

“Yes, a match.” Keith answered eagerly, “Sendak has returned from his expedition and he found an interesting new species.  They haven’t achieved space flight yet, but they might prove capable in the arena.” Keith explained, “I do know how a fight cheers you up, so I arranged for you to get first crack at them.” It would be a slaughter of course.  Most these first contact fights where, but an easy slaughter would do his pet good right now.

Takashi had gone completely still, as he spoke.  He hardly seemed to breathe, then there was a flash of purple streaked movement.  Keith instinctualy threw up his arms to protect himself only to be splashed with something warm and wet.  Lowering his hands he found Takashi, arm still active, with his prosthetic buried up to the wrist in his own throat.

The body fell over. Keith screamed.

.

Takashi had been dead before he hit the floor, and the heat from his prosthetic had boiled his brain, preventing any chance of reviving him.

Keith had raged in his mourning.  His underlings had scurried to appease him.  Offering the most beautiful and strong slaves available to try and replace his loss.  Most never left his room alive.

One enterprising underling had flown all the way to Earth and come back with new humans for him to own.  He’d been delighted, only to become angrier than ever to find them weak cowering creatures.  Nothing like his Champion Takashi.

The doctors had offered to clone a new Takashi, but Keith had shut them down with a sneer.  What was the point of the body without the mind?  He did not want a faltering child for a slave.

It was a druid that finally came up with a plan that satisfied him.  She had explained the concept of multiple dimensions.  How out there, somewhere, there were hundreds, thousands, no infinite Takashis with just slight variations from his own.  She promised with her power that she could pluck one of these Takashis from his universe and bring him back to Keith’s.  The price had been steep.  A planet’s quintessence and slaves to experiment on.  All he would consider well spent if successful.

She had worked day and night.  Requisitioning the labs of his ships for her machines.  Calling in high level prisoners for consultation.  Anything she needed Keith granted her.  Until one day she came to him, and said she was done.

.

The room that would bring Takashi back to him was covered in wires and mystical ruins.  It stank of dark magic, and a large dais like an altar stood spotlighted in the middle.

Keith had prepared everything on his end.  The druid had warned him that there was only so close of match that she could get.  It would take an eternity, that he did not wish to wait, to find an exact copy of his Takashi.  She could find him a Takashi that was Champion of the arena, from Earth, and had an enhanced prosthetic arm fairly quickly, but he would have to do some training to mold him the rest of the way into his role. It was fine.  He had prepared the cell, and he was confident in his abilities.

On the druids signal, a flip was switched.  Black energy began to pulse out of her and into the machines around them.  It felt like the very air was charging, and any moment lighting would strike out to burn them all, then there was a blinding flash.

Takashi was unconscious on the dais.

Pairing: Keith/Shiro, Dark!Keith/Shiro

Warning: Manipulation, Abuse (Kinda funny to just add this now)

Note: The parallels were super fun to write in this one.

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The prod is back.  Every muscle in his body spasms and screams.  Twists him hard against his binds and keeps going.  He’s beyond making noise.  Unable to plead for mercy.  Finally Keith stops, but the pain in his chest doesn’t go away.  He’s light headed and there’s a streaking pain.  Keith’s saying something but he can’t hear him.  The world’s fading at the edges.  Everything is slipping away.  He can’t hold on…

.

There is a cacophony of noise all around him, none of it making any sense.  His chest feels like it’s been kicked by a mule, and the whole world looks like it’s been painted in water colors.  Somebody is pouring ink on his surroundings…

.

Someone is shining a light in his eyes.  It hurts.  He wants to turn away but can’t.  “Takashi Shirogane” At least he thinks that’s what the deep voice says.  He hasn’t heard his name mangled that badly in a long time, “Can you hear me?”  He tries to nod, but his head still won’t move. Speaking just produces a cracked sound that might be generously interpreted as a yes.  “Basic cognitive function seem to be intact.  We’ll have to wait until he is more fully recovered to-”…

.

Keith sounds angry. “When will he wake up!”

“Give him time, my prince.  His condition was dire.”  The deep voice sounds familiar but he can’t quite recall from where.

“I have given you time.  More than enough time, and he still isn’t conscious.”  He should say something.  Keith will be mad at him if he doesn’t…

.

Shiro feels okay.  Not comfortable, but not in a terrible pain either.  Opening his eyes he doesn’t recognize where he is.  There is a niggling in the back of his head that tells him he should recognize this place, but he pushes it down.  If he’s forgotten, he doesn’t want to remember.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” It’s the voice from before, and when Shiro turns his head he recognizes him.  He one of the Galra doctors who treated his wound.  He must be somewhere in the medical wing.  Patient room?

“Drink this.” Something is shoved in his face, and he’s temporarily amused to find out the Galra have also invented the bendy straw.  He’s got an awful thirst, so he doesn’t let the thought distract him from quickly taking a sip.  He doesn’t feel fully quenched when it’s taken away.

The doctor pulls out a tablet and starts clicking away, “What is your name?” The doctor asks.

He fairly certain the guy already knows, but he isn’t masochistic enough to be sarcastic to Galra treating him, “Takashi Shirogane” He answers.

“Where were you born,”

“Earth”

“How many fingers am I holding up” The doctor holds up two clawed fingers.

“Two”

“Do you know what happened?”

Pain, he remembers so much pain, “I was tortured,” He whispers.

“Electrocuted to be precise.  I told the prince that your system wasn’t strong enough for prolonged exposure, but does he listen to me. No, of course not.” The doctor grumbles, “Your mental functions don’t seem to have been effected from the lack of oxygen.  Thank the Emperor.  The fit that would be thrown if you came back an idiot.” The doctor finishes filling out whatever is on the tablet and sets it down, “The prince will be down in a moment.  Try not to pass out again in the time it takes him to get here.  You will not like how you are woken back up.”  With that parting remark, he turns on his heels and leaves.

Thankfully, he doesn’t actually feel tired.  It’s fairly easy to take in his surroundings while he waits.  There is the standard unfamiliar technology.  The hard but serviceable bed and pillow.  Purple on literally every surface possible.  Typical in all the ways a room in an alien ship can be. Keith arrives a few minutes, long before he can grow bored.

He’s surprised, when Keith comes in and there is nothing but relief on his face.  He expected him to be angry for some reason.  Keith rushes to Shiro’s bedside and drags him into a hug.  His arms around him hurt, but it’s the happiest he’s seen him since refusing to fight.  He dare not break the moment by complaining.  It still doesn’t last.

Keith lets him go and, before Shiro can speak, punches him, “Are you happy now?” Keith yells while Shiro tries to recover from the shock, “You nearly died.” He raps his knuckles against the electrical burn on Shiro’s chest, making him flinch in pain, “After all the work I put in to bringing you back.  You can’t just be grateful.  You always have to push.” Keith shoves him away, and begins to pace the room gesturing wildly, “Refuse to do as you’re told, and look where it’s gotten you.  Your heart stopped Takashi.” Keith turns back to him and jabs his burn in emphasis, “The doctors told me you might wake up a vegetable.” The strength fades from his voice and his face crumples.  Shiro thinks Keith might cry, “Why do you do this to yourself?” He asks, pulling Shiro back up to sitting, “Why couldn’t you just do what I asked?” He’s being hugged again, desperately tight.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says.

“You better be.” Keith says, letting him go, “You aren’t allowed to leave me again.”

-

Keith’s performance has been suffering.  He didn’t notice at first, so obsessed with making sure that his brand new set of issues didn’t interfere with his own, but as he has grown more comfortable, he’s started to see outside of himself again.  Keith was very obviously losing a step.

The first time he asks, Keith just says he’s a bit tired and tells him not to worry about it.  Shiro doesn’t press.  He trusts Keith to handle the problem now that he’s been made aware others are noticing, and for a while he does.  He pulls himself back together.  Watches the other paladins’ backs, and if he is unusually quiet, well Shiro is to, so he has no room to judge.

Eventually, he starts slipping again.  Banging into rocky surfaces when precision flying Red. Failing to fully guard Lance’s back during group exercises.  Taking one too many hits when solo training with the bots.  The final straw is when Keith nods off during breakfast.  Shiro has to intervene.  He’s the leader of Voltron, and it would be a dereliction of duty to allow this to progress any further and potentially endanger one of their missions.

He’s not completely cruel.  He doesn’t insist on speaking with him then and there.  Even if it still makes his chest tighten to be alone with him, he won’t call him out in front of the others.  Shiro waits until he can get him alone and pulls Keith into a side room to confront him.

Keith doesn’t look good.  There are dark bags under his eyes, and his whole body seems to be sagging from exhaustion.  Shiro feels slightly guilty for letting this go on so long.

“How much rack time have you been getting?” Shiro asks, cutting straight to the point.

“Seven hours,” Keith bullshits him without missing a beat.

“Don’t lie to me,” Shiro says, “You look like a walking zombie.  How much sleep have you been getting?” He asks again.

“Enough,” Keith replies obstinately.  Brick walls had nothing on Keith Kogane.

Shiro scrubs at his face, “You nearly face planted in your food goo this morning.” He reminds him, “If that’s enough, I’d hate to see what too little looks like.”

“I’m handling it, okay,” Keith says, then adds, “You don’t have to worry.”

“Keith, I’m responsible for this team’s performance.” The same thing he’d been telling himself when working up to this conversation in the first place, “It’s my job to worry.”

“That’s the fucking problem.” Keith mutters.

“Excuse me?” He says.

Keith flushes, apparently he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, “No, forget I said anything.  I’ll go get some sleep.  Your leaderly duties are satisfied.” Keith makes a break for the exit, but Shiro blocks his path.  Bodily block the only door to the room.

“I’m not just going to forget it.” He says, letting some of his building frustration leak into his voice.  Since when had Keith been so unwilling to just tell him what he’s thinking? “Explain what you mean, how is my worrying the problem.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Keith shouts, “You’re getting it all wrong.” Keith crosses his arms, in a way that reminds Shiro of giving yourself a hug.

“Then tell me, and I can get it right.” Neither of them are going anywhere until this is resolved.  He’s not letting interpersonal issues compromise Voltron.

Keith knows him.  Knows Shiro can be just as stubborn if not more stubborn than him, when he puts his mind to it. He doesn’t try to out wait him. “You were gone again, Shiro.” Keith starts, then seems to be lose himself on the way to next sentence.

“You mean when I changed universes.”  Shiro offers to get him started again.

It does the trick, “Yeah, I’d finally gotten you back, after so long we were together again and things were right.” Keith says, “Then, then you disappeared!  There wasn’t a body, just like last time.  Poof gone without a trace.  We-I didn’t even know if you were still alive.” Keith’s eyes are somewhere around chest level, but Shiro gets the feeling he’s seeing a empty cockpit, “Even once we found out what happened, space is 99 percent empty.  Slav calculated the odds of you switching to some place with oxygen and survivable temperature ranges.  They were astronomical.  He thought we were bringing your body back for a funeral.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” He’d been so preoccupied with his own issues and not letting anyone know exactly what happened, it hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder what the others had been through, “I’m sorry.” He means the apology.  He should have realized what his disappearance would have been like for Keith.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do it on purpose.” Keith absolves him off handedly, “Besides, that’s not the real issue.”

“Then what is it?” Shiro asks.

“I always believed you were alive. Just like after the ‘pilot error’,” He spits the words in disgust, “I knew you were still out there.  I just had to find you, but this time it doesn’t feel like you came back.” Keith takes a deep breath before continuing, “I used to have nightmares about looking for you at the Garrison or in the desert and never being able to find you.” Keith confesses with a sniffle, “They stopped when you crash landed back on Earth.  I thought they were gone for good.” Keith reaches up to wipe at his eyes roughly, “Then you went missing and I started having them about the Castle.  Except this time they didn’t stop when we found you.  You’re here, but you don’t feel like your really here.” Keith’s head is leaning forward, as if he’s trying to hide his face from view, and it’s all Shiro’s fault.  He’s the one who’s been pushing Keith away without proper explanation.  He the one who’s been treating his lover like a leper with no real time frame for them to come back together.  He did this to him.

“Keith,” Shiro says softly. Carefully placing his arms around the smaller man. Keith leans into the hug, fingers clenching in Shiro’s shirt, and head buried against his shoulder.  He feels dampness where Keith is hiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Keith sobs, shaking his head without removing it from its spot, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.  You have your own problems.  I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Shiro whispers, gingerly petting Keith’s hair, “You didn’t do anything wrong.  Everything is going to be okay.” He hesitantly presses a kiss to Keith’s temple, and feels him begin to cry harder.