#but if Wake were operating on that level Harrow would have been FUCKED

[mayasaura]

Re the smothering I've always wondered if it could have been Wake bc of the implication Harrow has at least maimed someone who tried to take the sword away from her? And from chapter 11 I think Wake has some kind of control over the unconscious Harrow at least there so someone not dead just injured/unconscious from the sword could potentially have been the one to try to smother her? Since she tries to go after her in cytherea's body it doesn't seem to matter whether she kills her from the inside or the outside so motive is still there?

The motive is definitely there, but I'm again returning to the way Wake moved in Cytherea's body.

The timeline of Harrow the Ninth is hazy, but Harrow's already killed eleven planets at this point. Wake has had months to acclimate herself to Cytherea's body and work on figuring out how to move it, and this is the best she can manage.

Wake absolutely could have made a thanergetic connection if Harrow killed someone with the sword, and it's very possible Harrow did. But I don't think Wake would have been capable of the motor control necessary to carry out the murder attempt the way it's described. Especially not with only a week to practice.

As for possessing a living body, that's a trickier question. Moving the body might be easier, but every case of living possession by a revenant so far, the living soul has already conveniently been removed first. Like Colum Asht. Even Harrow was in the River chatting with Ortus while Wake took her body for a spin. So I guess maybe if Wake had wounded an Eighth House siphor's cavalier, had really good timing, and moved fast?

There's also the relative strength of the connection. When Harrow was possessed in chapter 11, she'd already been continuously exposed to Wake's thanergy since she was a small child. She'd been feeding Wake's ghost on her own blood every day since waking on the Erebos, and she'd already acclimated her body to accept a foreign soul using the blood of Wake's daughter. The only way the connection between them could have been stonger would be if Harrow had killed Wake herself. It's like she was trying to be possessed.

So it's not impossible it was Wake, but it does seem very improbable to me given what we know about possession.

[operation-firecobraclaw]

Steadfast and True

Hi, mah dudes!  Another Sheith prompt finished.  This one is for @lunarymagic who asked for a piece to be written based off of these lyrics:  "I'll be your savior, steadfast and true. I'll come to your emotional rescue."  My co-blogger had also done an art piece for this prompt here.  I hope you enjoy it! :)

You can also read it here on AO3.

~operation-firecobraclaw

“Start training level 5.”

Shiro widened his stance, bending his legs to create a solid balance in his frame.  As he watched the Gladiator drop from the ceiling hatch, he raised his arms in defense, his right hand glowing a searing purple as hot energy coursed through it.

The Gladiator rushed him as soon as its feet touched the floor.

From the gallery above, Keith watched him closely, studying his form and the way he practically danced with the android.  His evasions were fluid, as calculated as his counter blows, and when he did take a hit, he recovered with a swift grace.  Keith still struggled with the level 4 training simulation, and Shiro seemed completely even with it at level 5.

While he couldn’t help but admire his skill, the revelry was always accompanied by an undeniable sense of melancholy.  Shiro had always been proficient in combat, but the prowess he displayed now was something that had been honed out of survival from his time in the Galra fighting pits.  He was fierce and unrelenting - anything less would have got him killed.  Keith shoved the thought away, just as it was about ready to grip at his insides.

Down below, Shiro could feel his heart racing as the Gladiator’s blade swung down against his right arm, the clash of metals ringing in his ears.

He gritted his teeth, a drop of sweat trailing down the side of his face.  Shit, that was close.  

Shiro shoved away the android’s blade and finally found his opening, driving his right hand straight through its chest and out its back.  The metal crunched easily under the force of the blow, and the simulator dispersed in a flash of blue light, the electrical signatures trailing in its wake before it disappeared.  Shiro took a moment to catch his breath, wiping away the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He couldn’t help but feel irritated with himself; the Gladiator almost had him.  Shiro’s eyes fell briefly to his glowing hand, and he scowled.  If only he had more reach.  If only he… had his bayard.  

Shiro rolled his shoulders, craning his neck to one side, then the other.  “Restart training sequence.”

He wasn’t ready for level 6 yet, not if he’d let himself get that close to defeat.  Again, Shiro engaged the Gladiator in combat, trying to find a good balance between caution and not being inside of his own head too much.  His muscles felt strained as he continued to strike again and again at the android, careful not to leave it an opening.  Sweat threatened to trickle into his eyes, and his throat was dry and aching from thirst.  He needed to hydrate soon.

Keith folded his arms across his chest as he continued to watch the training session, wondering why Shiro was pushing himself so hard.  He’d been at it for hours.  Even from up here, he could see the fire of indignation in his eyes.  Shiro was angry, and Keith didn’t know why.

Moments later, Shiro dispatched the Gladiator with a swift beheading.  Keith turned to leave the gallery, wanting to head down to congratulate him on a successful training session, but he halted when he heard Shiro speak up again.

“Start training level 6.”

“What are you doing, Shiro?” Keith muttered, his brows knitting together as he turned back.  Allura warned them against fighting the Gladiator at any level higher than 5.  “It’s ruthless,” she’d told them, “specially programmed for the Altean elite.”

The two combatants clashed hard, and it didn’t take long for the Red Paladin to notice Shiro beginning to falter.  He planted his hands on the command console in front of him, leaning forward to keep a careful eye on his friend.  Shiro looked tired, like he wasn’t going to last much longer.  What was he thinking?

Shiro wasn’t thinking. He was consumed by his frustrations at the trouble he was having with this Gladiator - among other things.  He swung out his right arm with a irate growl, barely nicking his opponent across the chest.  How much easier it would be if he’d just had his bayard?  If his connection to his lion was stronger?  How much more useful would he be - against the Galra, to his team - if he didn’t have to rely on this fucking arm!

He misstepped, and it cost him.  The Gladiator rounded a heavy kick against his side - in the area where Haggar had almost mortally wounded him.  Shiro cried out as he flew several feet to the side, landing roughly on his shoulder.  Had the impact been any harder, it would have dislocated it.

“Shiro!” Keith called out to him.  He immediately went to work on the command console, attempting to shut off the simulation.  It persisted.  “End training sequence!” he tried verbally but that too ended in failure.  He wasn’t even able to send out an alert to the others.  “Fuck, not again!”  

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Coran was working on maintenance on another end of the Castle and he may have… accidentally corrupted the systems linking to the training simulator when Lance and Hunk barged in on him, startling the engineer.  “Oh, quiznack,” Coran cursed.  

Keith bolted out of the gallery, heading down to the training deck.  

Shiro, in the meantime, rolled over against the floor, barely avoiding the Gladiator’s blade as it hailed down on him.  His heart was pounding in his ears, and he could barely concentrate on the situation in front of him.  He wasn’t in the Castle anymore; he was in the pit, against another alien opponent looking to rip his life away for the sake of entertaining the Galra.  The bloodthirst in its eyes sent a jolt of terror to his core.  Shiro’s chest burned with each inhalation, and he could feel the panic settling in.  This was impossible.  He couldn’t be here again; please, God, he couldn’t be here again.  

“You could have been our greatest weapon.”

No… Not her.  Shiro’s side burned, like his wound never truly healed.

“I make you strong, and this is how you repay me?!”

Her voice grated against each corner of his mind, and he could almost feel her wicked magic once again invading his body, corrupting each cell and burning through his veins like venom.  Another voice joined hers, his laugh echoing against the walls of the training deck, and together they twisted around each other and snaked viciously through his psyche.

“Too bad you didn’t get the latest model.”

Shiro could hardly move; he couldn’t breathe.  He’d pushed himself too hard, and now he was paying for it.  He managed to roll into a shaky crouch, but his opponent was quick to dismantle his recovery.  The Gladiator’s foot booted flat against his chest, eliciting a breathless “oof” from the Black Paladin as the air fled from his lungs.  He was sent flying with the force, sliding several feet back across the floor after a rocky landing.

Their cruel laughter continued to seep into his mind and cloud his every thought, blinding him with fear, paralyzing him on the outside and evoking hysteria on the inside.  Stop… Stop!  Leave me alone!  He was… was he hyperventilating?  He could smell the dirt and blood beneath him on the floor of the arena, the lingering stench of death filling his nostrils and settling on his tongue.  The singing of blades rang in the air as they collided again and again, mercilessly.  

Someone else was fighting.  Who was…?  A sword clattered loudly to the ground.

“Shiro?!  Shiro!!  Please, Shiro, come back to me.  We have to get out of - gah!”

The Gladiator’s fist caught Keith right in the jaw, and the taste of iron spilled across his tongue.  He didn’t even have time to spit the blood out before it sunk another punch into his solar plexus, leaving him feeling completely hollowed out.  Keith almost regretted disarming the damned thing.  Without warning, it gripped him by the neck and lifted him off of his feet before tossing him aside - a minor inconvenience.

Keith used the momentum to roll onto his feet, barely keeping his balance as pain still wracked his stomach.  “Bastard,” he spat, wiping away the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

The Gladiator’s single eye flashed menacingly as it honed once again onto Shiro, its original target, bending down mid-walk to pick up its sword.  Shiro was down - what was it doing?!  The Altean elite apparently didn’t mess around.  Keith, who thankfully was able to keep hold of his bayard, pushed off of the ground and charged the Gladiator.   That thing was going to kill Shiro if it wasn’t stopped, and the Red Paladin wouldn’t be able to defeat it by conventional means.  

He had a plan.  It was shoddy at best, fucking batshit crazy at worst, but it was all that he had.  And it was going to hurt - a lot.  Keith chanced a glance at Shiro, who was laid out on his back, drenched in sweat and shaking.  He was still conscious, muttering to himself, gripping at his Galra arm, but he couldn’t seem to move.

Don’t worry, Shiro.  I’ll be right there.

Keith’s charge didn’t escape the Gladiator’s notice, and it turned on him to resume their lethal duel.  The Red Paladin was barely able to parry its strikes, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep it up for long.  Each collision of its blade against his sent a harrowing shock into his arm; it was a struggle to keep a grip on the hilt.  Just when he he thought his plan was about to crumble around him, he found his opening.

Well.  The Gladiator’s opening.

Keith abandoned his guard on his left shoulder, and the Gladiator pierced through it, nearly the entire length of its blade protruding out of his back.  He cried out, a long desperate shriek.  Even with the adrenaline that pumped through his veins, he was unprepared for how blinding the pain would be. Fuck, he was going to pass out.  No, damn you, STAY AWAKE.  Keith drew back his trembling right fist, weakly throwing it at his opponent’s face.  The android caught his punch easily in its free hand.

“You stupid fucking robot,” Keith grunted out a hoarse chuckle, unable to help the smirk that crept onto his lips.

Keith screamed through the anguish, the searing pain in his shoulder intensifying, as he reached behind him with his left hand and yanked his knife from its sheath.  With one last fierce cry, he drove his small blade into the side of the Gladiator’s head.  A second of stillness passed before the android twitched and dispersed in its electric blue light, the sword disappearing with it and leaving the wound open in Keith’s shoulder.  His dagger rattled as it hit the floor.

Keith’s scream had broken through the smokescreen of Shiro’s mind, banishing the other voices into oblivion.  What was… happening?  Keith...?  Keith!

The Red Paladin didn’t make it two steps before he dropped to his knees.  Despite the waves of agony that ripped through him, he began to crawl his way over to his friend.  “Sh-shiro…” he rasped, the sharp torment in his shoulder threatening render him unconscious.  Blood leaked out of his wound, darkening his already black shirt at his chest and back.

Shiro’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled a sharp gasp, like he’d been so close drowning but broke through the water’s surface just in time.  His chest and throat were still burning, and his heart rate hadn’t much improved either, but the strange, terrifying paralysis was beginning to ebb.  Just as he was about to sit up, an acute pain in his side yanked him back down to the floor.  He hissed, realizing that two of his ribs were broken.

“Sh-shiro…”

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he turned his head to meet the voice.  Shiro’s blood turned ice cold, coursing raw through his veins and into his heart.  Keith, only a few feet from him, was bleeding profusely from his shoulder, the thick red liquid creating streaks of scarlet down his left arm.  The Red Paladin had his hand pressed against the wound in attempt to slow the discharge, but the blood persisted, leaking between his fingers and dripping down his knuckles.  

“You’re okay..” Keith’s voice shuddered, a shaking but relieved smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  He was so pale...

Before Shiro could even say his name, the door to the training deck slid open, and several sets of footsteps could be heard racing across the room.

“Shiro!”

“Keith!”

Shiro was grounded, but he reached out to Keith, stretching his arm out as far as the metal would allow him.  He could feel hot tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.  What have I done?

Keith’s vision was fading to black, a heavy heat smothering him and drawing sweat from his every pore, yet his entire body felt cold.  A trail of blood smeared across the floor in his wake as he continued to painstakingly drag himself over to Shiro.  This wound… it was nothing… nothing.  Shiro was safe.  He was safe…

With the last of his strength, he reached out with his bloody hand, clasping it around Shiro’s before collapsing onto the floor, his consciousness finally abandoning him.

Shiro gripped Keith’s hand, refusing to let it fall.

The Black Paladin sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with elbows on his knees as he stared down absently at his prosthetic limb.  He hadn’t slept since he and Keith emerged from their healing pods, which was more than twenty four hours ago.  He was dead tired but didn’t dare go to sleep, unsure if he’d survive the nightmares this time.

Whenever Shiro closed his eyes, he saw Keith.  Bleeding out.  Dying.  Because he let his anger get the best of him.  Disgust writhed inside of his chest, and he couldn’t be sure if he had ever hated himself more than he did now.  Keith almost died because Shiro was being reckless.  His best friend, his anchor, the only one person he had ever… loved.  

Shiro shook with humorless laughter.  He hung his head, pressing a hand against his eyes as the tears gathered.  The irony was killing him.  Why now, in the midst of feeling all of this hate, could he finally admit to himself that he loved Keith?  

He was a wreck.

A soft knock sounded on the other side of his bedroom door, where Keith stood.  The Red Paladin wasn’t sure how long he had been idling there, his fist awkwardly raised while he decided whether or not to knock.  He needed to know if Shiro was okay.  What happened to him on the training deck…  that wasn’t something to just sweep under the rug.  The Black Paladin’s broken ribs may have healed to perfection, but after what Keith witnessed, he suspected that the torment ran much deeper than that.  God knew Shiro was in there right now, blaming himself for the whole thing.

They hadn’t really spoken since their recovery beyond a cursory “I’m glad you’re alright,” and Keith wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep until they actually talked.  

He decided to knock.  When the seconds stretched on without an answer, he tried again, “Shiro? You awake?”  Nothing.  Keith closed his eyes, inhaling a slow breath in preparation.  “I’m... I’m coming in, okay?”

Keith hadn’t known that Shiro was using that time to pull himself together after so nearly falling apart.  The Black Paladin set his jaw, wiping away the tears with the back of his arm before they had the chance to fall.  As he clenched his fists to stop the trembling, he breathed in slowly through his nose, completely filling his lungs until it hurt, before steadily exhaling.  “Yeah, come on in, Keith.”

As much as he tried to control the waver in his voice, it still broke over his name.

The doors slid open and Keith stepped inside, already feeling an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders at the sight of Shiro’s still figure.  As composed as his friend tried to appear, there was a suffering in his eyes that he couldn’t possibly hide.   Then again, Shiro always seemed to have that same look about him to some degree or another.  He concealed it well enough from the others - but never from Keith.  And now, without a doubt in his mind, Shiro was taking the fault for the insane stunt that the Red Paladin pulled with the Gladiator.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Keith started, stepping further into the room.

The concern he heard in Keith’s voice was almost enough to shatter his composure.  It was far more than he deserved.  Shiro straightened up as he remained sitting on his bed, turning his head to look at Keith but still unable to meet his eyes.  “I’m fine,” he lied, the words sounding more hoarse than he intended.  Damn it… Damn it, damn it.  “You?”

“Good.  I feel… I feel fine,” he stammered, cursing himself as soon as he finished speaking.  Neither of them were fine, and both of them knew it.  Why was this so hard?  Just… be honest.  This is Shiro.  Keith braced himself and said decisively, “No, I... guess I'm not fine.”

Shiro flinched, casting his gaze down to the floor, his shoulders sinking.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so brittle, and the one person who could effortlessly break him was standing not five feet from him.  Under all of that worry, Keith had to be angry, right?  After what Shiro did, how could he not be?  And he deserved every bit of the Red Paladin’s ire, didn’t he?

Before he realized it, Keith knelt down in front of him and slipped his fingers just beneath his chin, slightly lifting Shiro’s face so he could meet his gaze.  Shiro’s guard began to slip as he stared down at his friend with wide eyes, the skin beneath his fingertips rippling with warmth.  There was no anger in Keith’s face; only a tender look of concern that made his chest and throat feel tight.

Keith was crossing a line, and there was no going back.  He needed Shiro to know how much he meant to him, that he could trust Keith with anything.  He needed him to know that he didn’t have to suffer alone.  

“Shiro,” he uttered, feeling a trickle of relief when the older man didn’t pull away from his touch.  “What happened wasn’t your fault, okay?  I don’t want you blaming yourself.  I did what I did because you were in trouble, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

Shiro squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to hold onto any semblance of control.  When he spoke, his voice came out strained and thick, “But if I hadn’t… been reckless.  If I hadn’t pushed myself…”

Keith traced the tips of his fingers up Shiro’s jawline, cradling his hand against the side of his face and lightly touching his thumb to his bottom lip - a gentle indicator to stop talking.  “There’s no way you could have known that the Gladiator would malfunction,” he went on.  It was difficult to hide the tremor in his voice; seeing Shiro like this shook him to his core.  “Shiro, there was no way you could have stopped yourself from having that panic attack.”

Just like that, he shattered.  There was nothing else he could hide from Keith; the younger man saw right through him, reading between the lines of fractured glass.  He saw his weakness, his shame.  Everything.

And he still accepted him.

Shiro fell from the edge of his bed, dropping to his knees into the arms of his best friend, his forehead pressed into his shoulder.

Keith caught him readily, holding him tight as he felt the Black Paladin’s entire frame trembling hard against him.  “It’s okay,” he whispered through a shaky breath.  A sudden onset of tears streaked hot down his face, but he spoke as steadily as he could,  “It’s okay.  I’m right here, Shiro.  I will always be right here.”

He felt Shiro’s hands slide up his back before gripping at his shirt, a sob rippling through his broad frame.  His voice was muffled, but it wasn’t difficult for Keith to make out the apologies that he repeated over and over again.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..”

“It’s alright,” Keith whispered, resting a hand against the back of Shiro’s head.  “You’re the strongest person I know.  But let me be strong for you sometimes, okay?  You don’t have to be alone.  Ever.”  The words just kept pouring out, but they needed to be said, and Keith wasn’t afraid to say them anymore.  “You’ve been through so much, and I know you’re hurting.  And you what?  That’s okay.  You don’t have to feel ashamed, and you don’t have to hide it.  Not from me.  Shiro, I…”

No...  Now is so not the right time.  He couldn’t believe how close he was to slipping.  Maybe it was having Shiro so close to him - holding and comforting him, and more importantly, he let Keith do those things.

Shiro felt like he could breathe again as Keith’s words slowly sank in.  The pain was still fresh, gnawing at his insides, but he closed his eyes and tried instead to focus on how Keith’s arms felt around him, how his breath caressed his neck.  He could hear the raw honesty in his voice, like Keith truly believed what he was saying - so much that Shiro could start to believe it, too.  He was able to steadily regain some control over his breathing, and the tremors that rattled him began to subside.

“I was so afraid that I was going to lose you,” he whispered, finally finding his voice.  “I can’t… lose you, Keith.”  

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, resting his chin on Shiro’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

They held each other for a long time, and neither wanted to be the first to let go.  When Shiro asked Keith to stay the night, he didn’t protest.  He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be alone either.

Keith slept in Shiro’s bed, only a few inches of space between them.  Asleep and unaware of his movements, Keith rolled over and draped an arm over Shiro’s stomach, his breaths long and deep with slumber.  The Black Paladin couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.  After how much of a mess he was that night, it was hard to believe how relaxed he felt.  He didn’t try to fool himself; it was only because Keith was there.

“Keith.”  The whisper was barely audible, and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to wake him or not.  As Shiro closed his eyes, ready for sleep to take him, he finally let go of the last piece of himself that he’d been hiding.  “I love you.”

Whether or not Keith heard him, he would find out in the morning.