Thread by @saltyshiro

I had a weird but enchanting sheith dream last night about ancient mountain guardian Shiro and humble knight Keith, so here’s a thread. Hear me out....

Keith was born a commoner, not into nobility. He was trained by his mother to wield a sword & defend their farm against bandits and predators, & quickly became known as the best swordsman in the land. He lent his sword to other farms, & never demanded more than they could pay.

The kingdom Keith was born in was a lush valley overshadowed by a great mountain called The Champion, bc no invaders had ever managed to get past it, leaving the kingdom to prosper in peace. Legend told of a guardian atop the peak, who watched over the kingdom & kept it safe.

Many prayed to the Champion, wishing for good health & weather, fertile fields, luck, love, happiness. & it seemed, more often than not, that their prayers were answered. Keith was among them, but his prayers were always simple and utterly selfless.

Keith prayed for the sick chicken to get well & lay more eggs, for the horse with the lame leg to feel no pain, for the baby down the lane to laugh more than cry, for his mother to stay strong, for his father to sleep peacefully in death.

Keith’s father was buried on the mountain, and he visited his grave often. But even as a young boy, he was curious and awed by the place & the legend, so he kept climbing the cool alpine slopes until he came upon a strange vale.

The lushness of the vale made Keith’s kingdom look like a desert. Beautiful waterfalls spilled over mossy rocks and fish of every size and shape and color darted through the silver pool below. & beside the pool stood a worn statue of a huge lion.

Keith returned to the vale every chance he got. He couldn’t explain it, but the very air felt welcoming, powerful yet so calming, and when he fell asleep in the verdant grass he always slept deep & dreamless and awoke feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

Once, in the summer of Keith’s seventeenth year, he awoke to see a man in the vale, sitting on a rock beside the falls and gazing at him with eyes like starlight. In an instant, the man vanished into the mist without a trace, but Keith knew what he saw.

It must be the guardian. Determined to see the being again, Keith made more prayers, more offerings, and returned to the vale in a manner that can only be described as taunting. He was young, impulsive, & had no desire to fight the being, so he decided for a different approach.

Though Keith gave little thought to his appearance, he knew from others’ remarks & actions that he was beautiful, and hoped, fervently, that the guardian might agree and deign to show his (very, very beautiful) face again.

So the next time Keith returned to the vale, he shed his tunic and chainmail, his belt and scabbard, his pauldrons and boots and breeches, and waded into the silver pool clad in nothing but his devotion for the guardian who brought his kingdom such prosperity.

Nothing happened. He stood there in the water feeling silly & shivering, bc the mountain spring was ice-cold, & after a few minutes was forced to conclude he was an idiot & the guardian saw him only as a foolish, bothersome human. Embarrassed & disappointed, he began to wade out

...and froze as the water began to warm, steam curling from its surface, enticing Keith back in. Slowly, he returned, and watched with wide, wondering eyes as the water shifted to a soft but vivid sky blue.

Keith settled in the warm pool hesitantly, sighing at the welcome heat, which soothed (and later, he would discover, healed) every ache and pain and bruise from his years of work and service to his kingdom. He did not see the man, but knew the being must have noticed him.

So Keith kept coming back, and each time, the cool clear pool turned blue and hot for him, and sometimes a fat fish would flop out onto the shore to bring home for supper, or the wildflowers on the banks would burst into bloom, or the falls would roar & tumble a little louder.

The kingdom flourished & it came to pass when Keith was 20 that the king, a fair & just man named Alfor, entrusted his daughter Allura to Keith’s protection. Many speculated that they would wed, for they got along splendidly, and no prince could compare to Keith’s prowess.

But Sir Keith, now officially knighted, had no desire for marriage. He saw Allura as a dear friend, and she him, no more. The truth of it was, though Keith had not seen the man since that first time, his heart was wholly bound and promised to the guardian and their kingdom.

Likewise, Princess Allura was in no hurry to wed, preferring to learn how to lead & command the court. She consulted with Keith on policies to support common folk, & ignored missives from the northern kingdom of Galra’s Prince Lotor.

Galra was a fierce & powerful kingdom, but cut off from Altea by the mountain. Alfor was wary of angering their warmongering ruler Zarkon, but the Champion had never failed them before, & he wanted his daughter to be happy & choose herself who would rule beside her.

Keith did not forget to return to the vale despite his increasingly important responsibilities. He brought finer gifts with him — vintage wines, rose bouquets, live birds, polished jewels, anything he could think of. The family cow had twins. Their crops bore more than any year.

But the man did not appear. One day Keith worked up the courage to say, “I know you’re there.” Nothing. He frowned. “My name is Keith.” The trees rustled and the water sighed, and Keith swore he heard, I know, and then, softer, Keith, Keith, Keith.

And Keith realized, absurdly & wonderfully, that the guardian was shy, and so the only way to catch him was unawares. Next time, Keith pretended to sleep, & in the instant he opened his eyes, he saw the man, as lovely & strange as he remembered, watching him fondly.

Keith sprang to his feet, and the man yelped and fell into the pool. Keith floundered for him, but touched only mist and steam, and threw up his hands in frustration. “Please!” he cried. “I just want to see you, to meet & thank you properly after all these years!”

Out of the corner of his eye, a silvery figure peeked around a tree. Keith held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t run,” he whispered. “What’s your name?” The man blinked at him & the tree he touched began to grow, roots bursting thru the earth, trunk thickening, fruit ripening.

The man plucked the largest, sweetest fruit from the tree & approached slowly, holding it out to Keith with his more human hand. The other hung huge & gnarled & monstrous at his side. Keith took the fruit, holding it in his palms. It was a peach. “Shiro,” the man said.

His voice was wind and water and moonlight. He smiled, nervous & gentle, & backed away. “For you,” he murmured, nodding to the fruit, and then to the tree itself, and before Keith could reply, he was gone again, a patch of blue flowers left where he stood.

The flowers were forget-me-nots, and the peach tasted like honey and summertime. Keith stayed in the vale until nightfall, and fell asleep under the peach tree, wreathed in the pool’s steam, cradled by the strong roots, guarded by Shiro in every way.

When he awoke, he was not alone. There was a beast drinking from the pool, a tall chestnut warhorse with golden wings folded at its sides. Awestruck, Keith approached it, hand on his sword, but the winged horse turned to him at once, pressing her warm nose into his palm.

Keith named her Red, and when he sat astride her back she leapt into the air, soaring thru the dawn & down from the mountain, back to the kingdom. Everyone knew Keith had the guardian’s favor, but Red proved it. Word spread, & the northern Galra grew afraid of this unknown power.

With Red, Keith could fight for & protect more people than ever. He became a legend in his own right, and by age 25, he commanded and trained an entire company of knights, and taught them all to pray to and respect the Champion, though not quite in the same way Keith did.

With Red, he could also visit the vale more, & visit he did. Shiro was there, and though he always kept his distance & said very little, Keith found such solace in his presence, in his kind gray eyes & the soft fall of his pale fair, like whitewater. & Keith always spoke to him.

Keith told Shiro stories of life below the isolated mountain, & Shiro listened raptly. When he did speak it was to ask questions, of Keith’s farm & village, his childhood, the palace & Princess Allura. He asked Keith of his dreams, his hopes, his fears. Keith told him everything.

But when Keith asked Shiro questions, he evaded, sometimes even disappeared. “What are you?” Keith asked once, and Shiro ducked his head and said, “A relic.” Keith protested, and Shiro said, “A mistake,” then vanished when Keith pressed further.

“You are neither relic nor mistake,” Keith told the stars and falling water. “You are our guardian, a spirit, or else a god.” Shiro’s ghostly figure appeared in the mist, & shook his head. “I was not created for that purpose,” he said. “And I am far less a god than you, Keith.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Keith demanded, gesturing to the beautiful vale around them. “You made this paradise! I can swing a sword; you can bring life & luck to all!”

Shiro flinched back. “You protect the innocent,” he whispered. “I hurt them. That was my purpose.”

And as Keith watched, Shiro’s delicate silver ghost solidified and grew, towering over Keith, the trees, the waterfall, dark as the mountain stone, eyes glowing like fierce sunlight and teeth sharp as thorns. Keith stumbled back with a cry, reaching instinctively for his sword.

“Go on,” Shiro whispered, voice impossibly soft despite his monstrous form. “Perhaps I should have been slain long ago. It would be an honor to fall by your sword.”

Keith released his sword, shaking his head & backing away. “I know you,” he said. “You are good, Shiro.”

Shiro’s glowing eyes filled with tears, falling into the pool like so many crystals. “I thought it would be easier if I was not alone any longer,” he whispered. “But I was wrong. Farewell, Keith.”

Keith reached for him, but it was too late. Shiro was nothing but mist and sorrow.

Keith returned to the farm, stumbled through the door & into his mother’s arms, & Krolia held him tightly for though they rarely embraced each other, when they did, it was when they truly needed it. “Hush, my son,” she said. “Say the word, and I will lend you my blade.”

But Keith shook his head, pressing his cheek to her armored breast. “For once, this cannot be solved with a blade.”

And Krolia understood, & stroked his hair and sighed, “Oh, Keith. Anyone who has your love is blessed more than they could ever know.”

Keith wept in her arms.

Keith did not return to the vale; his heart couldn’t bear it. So Shiro stayed among the mist and trees, trying & failing to convince himself he had done what must be done, until one golden dusk, a hooded woman crossed onto his mountain from the northern kingdom.

“Stop,” Shiro said, speaking through the rolling fog & dark stone. “Who are you?”

The woman threw back her hood. “I recognize you & your magic,” she said. “You may act the guardian but we both know it is a lie. You are of Galra. Return to us.” Her hands alit with purple flame.

Shiro recoiled. “I will die before you turn my magic against this kingdom.”

“Then die you shall,” she said, “& know if you had ceded to the mercy of Empress Honerva, then you would have been the most powerful being on earth.” The violet flame exploded into a blinding inferno.

From his palace tower, Keith saw the night illuminated by the purple flare atop the mountain, then all went dark. His stomach twisted with cold dread, & once his nightly knightly duties were done, he fetched Red from the stable & flew to Shiro’s vale.

From the air, Keith saw the smoking desolation where the perfect vale once stood. The charred earth welcomed him, & he nearly fell from the saddle, staring in horror at the empty pool & flopping remains of fish, the peach tree burnt beyond recognition & split in two.

Then his gaze fell beyond the mountain, to the huge Galran army gathering at its base, bonfires burning & armor gleaming. Keith did not weep. He set his jaw, eyes bright with bitter vengeance, mounted Red, & left the Champion to tell the king of his kingdom’s impending doom.

At the palace, Alfor hastily gathered his troops, with Keith at their head. “Where is the guardian?” they murmured. “Why has he abandoned us?”

“The guardian is dead,” Keith said. The knights looked to him in alarm & fear. Keith looked back with dark fury. “Only we remain.”

The Galran army came in waves, surging towards the palace and leaving trails of destruction in their wake. They just kept coming. Keith’s armor turned red w blood and still the flood of enemies did not cease. It was less of a war and more of a massacre.

But Keith pressed on, imagining how Shiro must have died, alone & defiant in the face of evil. He could not let Shiro’s sacrifice be in vain. He could not fail his kingdom. As his knights fell, Keith rose up on Red, slashing through the Galran ranks, felling hundreds more.

It was only when the Galra reached the palace gates that Keith realized it was hopeless. Altea was overrun, & the Galran soldiers kept rising to fight despite impossible wounds, & beneath their armor they reeked of rot & dark magic. Not even revenge could defeat such an enemy.

But King Alfor would not surrender. He fell as the palace gates did, & Keith fought to reach his king’s body, escaping the horde on Red by the skin of his teeth. He brought Alfor to the palace courtyard, where Princess Allura was guarded by Alfor’s most trusted knights & Krolia.

Allura cried out when she saw her father & covered her mouth, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “It’s over, then,” she whispered, & unsheathed her knife. “We must kill as many as we can before we meet the same fate as my father. They will spare none of us, least of all me.”

But Keith had not spent half his life serving the Princess only for her to be murdered. So he bade Red farewell, passed her reins to Krolia, & said, “Take the Princess far away. Be safe.”

“And what of you?” Krolia asked, though in her heart she already knew she was losing him.

“I am a knight,” Keith said.

“You are my son first,” Krolia said.

“Goodbye, mother,” Keith said, and hugged her tight. “Goodbye, Princess.”

“No!” Allura shouted. “Keith, I order you to stay by my side!”

“I cannot,” Keith said. “I love you both very much.” And he walked away.

Sword drawn, Keith faced the Galra alone. From their snarling mass, another lone figure stepped, hooded cloak swirling behind her. Her hands alit with purple flame. “The last line of defense,” she mocked. “It is a wonder Altea did not fall to us sooner.”

Keith said nothing, and raised his sword. The woman sneered, lifting her fiery hands, only to freeze as Keith began to glow as if from within. & all at once Keith was filled with impossible, inhuman strength & determination, & realized Shiro had given him more than just Red.

Keith’s sword burst into golden flame & the woman’s eyes widened. “Kill him,” she ordered. “The guardian’s magic lives on in him!”

Keith cut through the undead soldiers like butter, & this time they stayed dead. But they were unending, & eventually the magic began to fade.

Keith could barely lift his sword by the time he reached the woman, though most of her army lay lifeless in his wake.

“End this,” Keith ordered. “Haven’t enough lives been lost? Altea is in ruins. You have nothing left to conquer but ash and bone.”

“That is enough,” she said grimly, and raised her hand.

Keith fell to a slash of violet lightning, and did not get back up. Satisfied, the hooded woman moved on, walking towards the palace through a sea of corpses.

As dawn crept over the gray horizon, Keith stirred. A single horse plodded through the battlefield, & stopped beside Keith, nosing at his hair. It shied away when Keith sat up, clutching his singed & bloodied chest & looking through hazy eyes towards the dark mountain peak.

Keith graced himself upright, fumbling to reach the horse’s bloodied saddle. The spooked creature broke into a ragged gallop, & Keith clung on, vision fading in & out. The mountain felt an eternity away, but as the sun dipped below the horizon again, Keith smelled familiar smoke.

Shiro’s vale lay before him, quiet & empty, & this time Keith did fall from the saddle. He crawled through the ashes to the looming stone lion, and curled with an exhausted sigh between its great paws. “The battle was lost,” he whispered. “I failed, Shiro.” He closed his eyes.

It did not take long before Keith breathed his last breath, bleeding and bleeding onto the stone, head lolling into the lion’s mane, body slumping into death.

But as his blood touched the stone, a curious thing happened.

For all her power, Empress Honerva was unable to kill Shiro, so instead she locked him away with the strongest curse she knew, one only broken by a true love’s blood. & surely no one could ever love a being such as Shiro, much less sacrifice themselves for him, she thought.

And so it was that Shiro awakened & emerged from the endless shadowy cell she had cast him into, & the first thing he saw in the world of the living was Keith dead at his altar, a soft, sad smile on his beautiful, cold face.

A great wind tore across the ruined vale as Shiro approached him, grief & anger swirling tight and sharp all around him. & for the first time in centuries, Shiro was tempted to rise up & smite the world, to raze the land & its people as he was meant to do.

But then a soft, dry blossom fell into Shiro’s outstretched, half-curled fist. It was a peach blossom, and it crumbled delicately to dust in his hand, and all at once Shiro fell over Keith, and wept, wishing he had driven Keith away from the start yet knowing he never could have.

& as Shiro wept, the stone altar burst open with flowering vines & mist curled around Keith, piercing the cracks in his fine armor until the metal fell away from Keith’s skin, baring his still body to Shiro’s heartbroken embrace & twisting mist, which crept slowly past his lips.

Weeping, Shiro kissed him, pouring every bit of the goodness he’d forged within himself into his true love. & his mist, which was meant to bring sickness & death, sighed into the darkness of Keith’s throat & surrounded his stopped heart, squeezing tight & pleading, breathe, live.

Vines crept up Keith’s chest & wove together the broken spaces of ragged wounds & bloodied flesh as Shiro kissed him, for Shiro knew nothing of healing but everything of Keith, & he knew that if he failed to heal Keith, there would be no more flowers, no more vale, no more joy.

But most of all Shiro knew that he had been human once, & Keith made him feel human anew, made him remember, in warm bright beats like butterfly wings, how it was to feel & to love, not as one loves a kingdom in detached obligation, but as one loves a person with all their heart.

Shiro gathered Keith up, wading into the pool, which filled with blue steaming water as Shiro stepped upon the dry earth. & with every step, the vale bloomed into color & life, & Shiro grew in form & power until Keith was too small to kiss, & Shiro lowered him into the water.

The pool swallowed Keith up, though Shiro kept Keith cupped in his hands, loathe to let him go again. Underwater, Keith was pale & ghostly, black hair rippling like bleeding ink, dark wounds knitting together into thin silver lines under Shiro’s determined eye.

And as the sun spilled molten gold over the mountain peak and into the shadowy pool, Keith’s eyes opened slowly, then all at once, and he surged upwards with the wild, stubborn spirit Shiro so adored, breaking the placid surface of the water with a shocked gasping cry.

The first thing he saw was Shiro, standing above him with a fond, glowing gaze in all his glory, haloed by the rising sun.

This time, Keith did not flinch away, and he did not even think of his sword. He thought only of sunshine, and Shiro.

“I missed you,” Keith said.

“I love you,” Shiro said, and laughed when Keith squawked in surprise, then fell silent in awe as Shiro lifted him out of the water and into the air, up& up & up, until they were eye to eye.

“I love you, too,” Keith whispered, suddenly shy.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro sighed, & kissed Keith’s brow carefully, & Keith chased his lips, & Shiro had to shrink down to a more human - but not quite human - size for fear of crushing him in his eagerness to hold Keith & kiss him everywhere as he had so desperately longed for.

When Keith kissed him, it was like coming home, & someday, Shiro thought, he would rain bitter vengeance down upon those who had hurt them, but for now, he would hold Keith in his arms, kissing him breathless in the warm pool in the secret vale, making soft & unbreakable vows.

And so Shiro sweetly took Keith apart and put him back together again under the moonlight and shining stars as witness, & Keith shouted praises turned pleas, echoing across the mountaintop, as Shiro worshipped him, inside and out, at long last.

Across the sea, Red lifted her head, as if hearing a familiar voice. And when she returned years later with the remaining Alteans & their princess turned queen on a ship led by a roguish captain named Lance, the kingdom was lush & alive, & the Champion stood tall, ever vigilant.

And though the Red Knight and his guardian became a martyr & legend, those who later made the pilgrimage to the Champion’s vale to pay their respects would find two peaceful & beautiful young men, sitting together under a blooming peach tree, faces full of love.

the end.