zun yan

I found him. I found him again. Oh God, I found him and he's my enemy. My enemy! He's at once the most hated and the most beloved person in my life. Why is that? How can that be? How can I wish him dead in one breath and wish him by my side in the other? It shouldn't happen! Fate shouldn't be so cruel! Isn't my thread snarled with enough hardship already? How could they possibly weave with it, I wonder, with the knots that have been tied into it?

Mother would have been proud of him. He has grown up so tall and handsome. And his smile! Oh, it breaks my heart, to know that he can smile. He's actually happy. Kuro, happy. If I had not seen it I would have thought it impossible. My silent, sullen, beautiful, thoughtful brother is actually happy.

But it's true. He...he has found a joy. He's found something that's changed him. And I wasn't there to see it. I wasn't there for him. I wasn't there to comfort him, wasn't there to give him the love that he needed--the love that he found else where. I think that's what hurts the most. That he found love somewhere other than me. I was so used to having him adore me, so used to having someone worship me, rely on me to protect them, want my love, need my love. No one's ever needed me like he did. And now he doesn't need me anymore.

Now no one needs me.

It's selfish, I know, but I wish that things were like they used to be. I wish that Kuro still looked at me with those beautiful, velvet eyes, still followed at my heels like a lost puppy. It's so unutterably selfish, but I wish it anyway. God, I wish that he had never left. I wish I had never jettisoned him. I wish that I had gone with him. I wish, I wish...I don't know what I wish. I used to know. I used to wish that Allura would be mine. I used to wish that my father would be proud of me. I used to wish that my life was different than it was. And I still wish that. I still wish that, but I wish that Kuro was with me once more. I wish for my better half, I wish for the true light in our relationship, the true purity. I wish that I didn't have to live here. God, why don't you answer my prayer? Am I not fucking good enough for you? Haven't I tried? Haven't I? Haven't I submitted myself to this penitence, haven't I lived a lie all these long years, waited for Kuro, watched as my father tore into my soul, poisoned it, poisoned me, chained me just as surely as he chains his slaves? God, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why don't you help me?

Why doesn't anyone help me?

Oh what honor do I have in this base pleading?

I have fallen so low.

So very, very low.

~~~

The dark sun cast its pale light upon the broken planet. It was a nightmare scene, a place of hell where the wind howled like an animal and the sand was the black of blood spilled and pooled. Everywhere there was death, everywhere there was pain, suffering and despair. This was the planet of Doom, this was the planet of hate, of agony. And the people who lived there were proud of this hate, fanned this anger, rejoiced in their pain and their suffering, for it made them strong. It was a place of twisted optimism, a place where even the smallest degree of joy was beaten out of existence, terminated before it could even begin to grow. There was no hope there, there was no love, none of the 'purer' qualities of life. This was death. This was hell. This was life in only the most twisted and befouled sense.

There was only pride here, and it was only this stubborn pride that kept the soulless inhabitants going. They did not live. They merely survived. And the prince of that survival, the one who struggled to survive even as he struggled to die was Lotor. The blue-skinned devil of this planet, the pale heir to the twisted throne excelled at survival.

He smiled through the megalomaniac ramblings of his father, laughed at the appropriate times, sneered when it was expected, played the game perfectly, but his heart--his mind--were else where. And he knew they noticed. They always notice; they being the crone and his father and the sycophants who clamored for attention. He was surrounded on all sides by sharks, who attacked at the slightest hint of blood.

"So, my son, what grand plan do you have for us today?"

Lotor bristled at the sardonic tone because it was expected. "I have decided to dispense with the elaborate schemes, father." Zarkon opened his eyes a little wider, compensating for his lack of eyebrows, a questioning glare tossed Lotor's way. "An all out attack would be best. Voltron may be able to handle a small fraction of our forces, but I have no doubt that a show of pure force will cause the Arusian's to buckle." Lotor chuckled. "Even Allura wouldn't be foolish enough to risk the destruction of her planet."

Zarkon barked out a sharp laugh. "Excellent! Excellent! I like this plan, my son. Take the force you need. It is about time that we stopped playing games with Arus."

"Yes father." Lotor bowed and backed out of the throne room. He wanted to be as far away from the temperamental king as he could be; the poison that had blackened his soul urged him to kill his father, to exact revenge from his mother--and for himself. But it wouldn't do to kill Zarkon yet. At least not until he was sure that the throne would be his. Besides, why go through the trouble of killing the old man when time and disease would do it for him?

Lotor permitted himself a grim smile. It was all only a matter of time, after all. Just a simple matter of time.

~~~

I hate my father.

That alone should tell you something of my life. To hate the one that gave you life...There is something fundamentally wrong with that idea.

Still, I hate him. I hate him for everything that he's done to me, everything that I have ever suffered from at his hands. He knows I hate him too, knows that I despise him. I think he's secretly glad of this. After all, if I hate him, than he isn't expected to show any weakness and love me.

There's just one thing, though, one snag in my hatred. For a reason unfathomable to me, I still love him. I still find myself tied to him with more than just the empty promise of a shared blood and fear. There's some unshakable loyalty that I feel for him that surpasses even those iron shackles that fear has placed around me. I shouldn't feel this love for him, this vain desire that maybe it will be all right tomorrow. I shouldn't because I know that it won't be. Tomorrow he will still be the man that killed my mother and abused and debased me. He'll still be the man that exploits my filial feelings, still be the man that poisons my soul with his very presence.

I wonder if he would miss me if I die?

Would anyone?

I used to think that someone would. I used to believe that my presence was necessary, that I had a reason to live. I used to believe in love, used to believe in justice.

Then he killed my mother and I exiled my brother and my world has never been the same.

I used to be the center of someone's world. I used to be the most important person in someone's life.

I used to have a purpose.

And then my purpose went away. Now all I have is myself.

'Tis a poor substitute, surely.

~~~

The attack came at dawn the next day. For all their high talk of defense, for all the preparation that they had done, the Voltron Force was completely unprepared for the immense scope of the Doom army that had invaded their space. They assembled in the control room, faces pale and wan in the harsh fluorescent light. There was no hope in their eyes, for what hope could be gained when the battle was already decided? Voltron was useless now, the great warrior too weak against this show of force.

"What do we do?"

The question rang softly in the air and all eyes immediately turned to Keith, expecting an answer. Keith stared back at them, drowned in the black depths of their waiting eyes, throat constricting in fear. He wanted to scream at them, wanted to howl to the heavens that he didn't know what to do, that he was still a child and woefully unprepared for this pressure. But he swallowed his words in the face of those large, expectant eyes and squared his shoulders, gathering up his flagging courage to present a stoic face to his friends.

"We wait."

They nodded, satisfied that the an answer was made, that responsibility had been taken. They turned away and Keith sagged, trying hard to ignore the sharp spikes of fear that tore at his soul. He wondered what they would do if they knew that their stalwart leader was plagued with their doubts.

The vidscreen crackled to light, as some overeager messenger patched an incoming message through. Lotor's cruel face lit up the giant screen, teeth bared in a false smile, pale yellow eyes filled with a deep hate.

"Hello, Allura." His velvet voice resonated through the room. "You look particularly well this morning."

"What do you want Lotor?" Keith's voice trembled slightly, anticipation and fear hidden behind the venom. "Why don't you attack?"

"Because I'm giving you a sporting chance, Captain. I demand a hostage; any one of you will do." He laughed at the confusion on the faces of the force. "I will take over your planet anyway, Allura. This way, there need be no bloodshed. I shall be expecting a small, unarmed craft in one hour." The screen blanked out and the team looked at each other, despair marring their features.

"I'll go." Allura's voice was soft and shaky, the two words an inevitable declaration. She was ready to play the martyr here, ready to sacrifice herself for some vain ideal, but Keith was already shaking his head.

"No you won't. I'm going. It's the only logical choice here. If we can get someone inside who's properly trained, we may be able to avert this entire mess, and I'm the only one qualified for this. Besides, you're too high risk."

"We can't lose you either, Keith." Allura rested one delicate hand on his arm. "You're just as important as I am."

"I can be replaced. You can't. I'm going Allura, and you're staying here even if I have to tie you to a chair myself." Keith hoped that they couldn't hear the sharp edge of anticipation that laced his words. It wouldn't do if they found out; not yet, not while they were still unsure of themselves.

"Fine. Go. Get yourself killed. See if I care." Allura almost flounced out of the room, all too obviously put off by Keith's directive. Hunk and Pidge wished him well before following, most likely falling back into their familiar roles as peace keepers. Lance stayed a moment longer, one hand coming up to linger on Keith's arm, a strange look in his pale eyes.

"Be careful, okay Keith? I know, it's usually you telling me that, but please, just...Take care of yourself, all right? I don't know what I would do if you got yourself killed."

"Find someone else to carry you home after you fall into a drunken stupor in a strip club?"

Lance smacked Keith on the arm. "Bastard. I'm trying to be serious."

"Yes, well, I don't think you're succeeding very well." Keith smiled at Lance, slung a friendly arm around the slimmer boy's shoulders in a shallow embrace. "Hey, don't worry. I'll be fine. Honest."

"Okay. Just--Well, I suppose you should be going. I'm not going to bother you with anything else." Lance smiled tremulously and turned to leave. Keith watched him go, touched by his friend's heartfelt but utterly unnecessary fears. He would be fine; in fact, he would probably be safer up there than down on the planet.

It was, after all, just his brother.

~~~

That Keith is my enemy is truth beyond a doubt.

That Kuro is my brother is equally true.

That they are one and the same is a cruel trick played on me by the Fates, I am certain of it. Why else would this happen? How else could such a reality exist?

This is, surely, one of the worst tricks that those foul crones could possibly have inflicted on me. Think about it. First I lose my brother, who is most definitely the dearest person to me, then I find him again, but only as an enemy. How can we possibly regain our love when I am sworn to kill him--and he me? It doesn't make sense; it is an impossible dream. But one that I wish could happen.

I am sick. I am damned. If not for the atrocities that I have wished upon my most dear brother, than for the evils I have visited on him already. My already dark soul has become darker. My already damned spirit has fallen even lower. How could I do it? How could I?

Oh God, I raped him.

And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed hurting Keith. I enjoyed his screams, I enjoyed the feel of his writhing flesh beneath me. I enjoyed knowing that I humiliated him, that I degraded him.

But God did I feel sick when suddenly Keith was not just an enemy of mine, but my brother. How can my sentiments change so quickly? How can I go from extreme hate to extreme love in so short a period?

Someone explain this to me, because, for the life of me, I can't possibly understand. I love Kuro. I love him beyond my life, beyond my darkened soul, beyond everything that I have ever known before. I love him with the breadth and depth and agony of my being. He was--is--my world, my life. I breathe and live so that I may keep him safe from harm, for in my mind he will always be that small, sickly, quiet boy with painful eyes and ebony hair that clung to me as his rock and shelter. He will always be the babe I changed, the child I sat up with, rocked to sleep when our mother was drugged out of her mind and her chemical filled milk poisoned Kuro until he whimpered in agony; he would never cry, not my brave Kuro who was too afraid to ever make a sound. He will always be my shadow, always be my son, my child.

He will always be the one I saved.

But then there's Keith. Then there's the confident, loud, arrogant Captain of my mortal enemy. Then there's my opposite, the man born to be my enemy. I hate Keith. I wish death upon him, wish a thousand hells to be visited upon his soul. I wish that he would writhe in torment, wish that I could flay his skin from his bones. I wish that I could feel him beneath me once more, make him scream once more.

Oh God, what do I do? Which one will greet me? Who shall I be faced with; my brother or my enemy?

I wonder, does he go through this turmoil as well?

~~~

Keith was led into Lotor's private chambers with his arms bound behind him. The young captain gazed steadily at the blue-skinned prince, black eyes betraying nothing, face an impassable mask. Lotor watched his captive carefully, growled low in his throat and circled his intended prey before turning to the guard and gesturing imperiously for the robot to exit. The blackened machine snapped its heels together and did an abrupt about face, marching out of the richly appointed chambers with a heavy stride.

Lotor watched the machine go, eyes narrowed in heavy suspicion. When the measured tread had at last faded into the distance, Lotor sprang into action, slamming shut the wide doors and keying in the locking mechanism. He was breathing heavily when he turned to face Keith, a cold sweat prickling his skin. Fear, anticipation, love and hate ran through his body, heating and cooling his blood in sweeps of powerful emotion. One hand strayed to the gun kept by his side, the other rising in trembling supplication. His golden eyes locked onto Keith's, drowned in the velvet blackness found within, searched for some spark, some hint of how he should proceed.

"So." The word was hissed out, at once menacing and tentative.

"So, d'you think you could undo these 'cuffs, Shiro?"

Lotor grinned, sagged in sudden relief, somehow moved across the gap that separated him from Keith, before clutching the other in a rough and desperate embrace. "Oh Kuro. I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry."

Keith laughed, rested his head on Lotor's shoulder, tears dripping down his cheeks to stain the soft blue cloth of Lotor's tunic. "Hey. Hey, it's okay, Shiro. Now are you going to take these cuffs off?"

"Yeah. Yeah, hold on." Lotor unsnapped the cuffs, let Keith rub his abused wrists before sweeping the dark haired boy up into another deep embrace. "I miss you, Kuro."

"I miss you too, Shiro." Keith's arms came up around Lotor, held him just as close, buried his face into the long, white locks of his brother.

Lotor shook his head, his hair tickling Keith's neck. "No, I don't think you understand me, Kuro. I--you're a part of me and I don't think I can ever let you go. I feel so unwhole without you around. Kuro...do you remember anything from before? Anything at all?"

Keith shrugged. "I remember you. And...I remember Mother's death." He shook his head, closed his eyes against the dark memories. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Sure." Lotor let Keith go, grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the floor. "Sit, sit."

"Is there an echo?" Keith laughed, and laid his head against Lotor's shoulder. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Come away with me."

"What?"

"Come away with me. Let's run away, to some planet outside of both my father and the Alliance's range. We can start it all over again. We could be a family again."

Keith shook his head. "I can't, Shiro. I can't leave my friends. I can't abandon my team. It--there's too many responsibilities."

"But Kuro, we could erase our past. Sven can take your place, and my father doesn't care about Arus enough to keep attacking it like I have. My chambers can be converted into a space craft at just a touch of a button. We could leave; we could be free."

"Shiro--"

Lotor sighed. "All right. I understand." He hugged Keith again. "How long can I hold you hostage?"

Keith smiled. "For as long as you need."

~~~

Kuro...Kuro doesn't quite get it. He thinks that I'm just fooling around when I tell him that he means everything to me. I suppose that I really can't blame him. After all, he was only eight when I forced him to leave. A decade can change people; I know it changed me.

The part that pains me the most, though, is that he doesn't remember. He doesn't remember how much I loved him. He doesn't remember how much he meant to me. He doesn't remember a goddamn thing and it hurts so bad. I was the one who helped shape him, I was the one who molded him into what he is now. That he can't remember that negates my entire existence. He was my greatest work, my finest project, my Sistine fucking Chapel. He was everything that I wasn't, he was pure and innocent and free of blood. I wanted him to be free of blood. I wanted him to walk through life without knowing what it is to kill, without knowing what it feels like to hold another's existence in your hands and watch as the blood flows from them in a thick stream of hot life. I wanted to keep him pure. I wanted to keep him safe. I wanted to let him live a life of peace.

Great fucking job I did. So much for my brother the peace-maker; instead, I have my brother the killer.

Strange. Even in my thoughts I must name him Kuro. To even dwell but briefly on the name Keith raises foul desires and a need for his blood. There is a hatred there that I must erase if I am ever to truly love my brother as a whole.

But how can I not help but hate Keith? He has taken away my brother, he has killed Kuro. A decade as Keith has erased most of my beloved sibling's presence. I wasn't there to watch my brother grow, to help Kuro through those times in his life when he needed me most. I suppose that's why Keith is so distasteful to me. He is my greatest failure.

~~~

Lotor watched Keith as he was greeted by his friends, surrounded in a flurry of concerned love. He smiled gently, satisfied that the younger boy was in good hands. It soothed his worried heart somewhat, let him breathe a little easier.

Will I feel this way when I have my own son? Or will I turn out to be like my father?

The unwelcome thought chilled Lotor's soul and he shook his head vehemently, vowing that that fate would never be his. He watched a moment longer, smiling slightly at the painful hug that Lance gripped Keith in; he wondered if his brother knew about this not-so-subtle admirer.

The concerned press moved into the castle, and Lotor could just imagine the celebration that would occur in honor of Keith's
'escape'.Keith bore numerous superficial injuries and there had been enough fireworks to prevent an arousal of damning suspicion; their secret would be safe for a little while longer.

Lotor sighed and turned away from the happy scene. He could delay his return no longer. It was time to return home, tail between his legs and a contrite expression on his face and a glib lie on his tongue to keep Zarkon from sending him on a fool's errand to some remote corner of the Empire; he had too much to do to allow that to happen.

Into the long shadows Lotor walked, heading from the light to a planet made dark by hate.

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