Notes:

Hi everyone! This is my first my first Voltron fanfiction, and my first fanfiction in general in a very long time.

It'll eventually be Sheith so don't be concerned! This story was inspired by a conversation with a good friend about what sort of AU I would like to most see for a Voltron fic, and with their urging I wound up writing it myself. This is a Fantasy AU retelling of Voltron, but it will have quite a few divergences to keep things fresh. The very basic ideas of the story will obviously be the same, but don't worry about having to deal with an exact retelling of Voltron just with magic and more trees and stuff like that.

Either way, I hope you'll enjoy! I look forward to everyone's thoughts.

Chapter 1: A Year and Two Months

When Takashi Shirogane finally regained his senses, he was blinded by the impossibly green light. A midday sun, and the strange feeling of his own feet that moved forwards outside his will were the only things he could gather his scattered thoughts around. Blinking rapidly, wincing from the bright surroundings, he could hear a single command, driving him forward.

Keep Moving.

Fuzzily, wearily, he sees endless rows of green trees and lush foliage. Alien, foreign, yet for some reason all too familiar. Shiro felt as if he had seen these exact tree trunks, marked with bright springtime leaves, for possibly days. Even so, he couldn't recollect exactly when the forest ended or began, or where his journey itself started. Disorienting, he hears himself say, but in truth his throat was far too parched to really sound the words. Instead his cracked lips shook from the effort.

Regardless, he continued shuffling forward, spurred on by some mad, most likely vain attempt to survive, to keep moving, to keep walking forward to god knows where.

Or maybe to run away?

Shiro couldn't tell. Rather, he had no strength to think beyond his baseline instinctual thoughts. The forest gradually opened up like a picture book, beckoning him forward to the new scenery of an aggressive, inhospitable sun and endless dunes of sand. The Wasteland, Shiro could understand that much. He was at the edge of the worlds, the borders of the countries. An impervious stretch of desert in which only the most unforgivable criminals were sent to starve and wither in the sun. Off far in the distance, a glimmering shape of pristine white towers rose above, a symbol to its people and a threat to its hostile neighbors.

He could feel himself pulling away from the stream, out and above the sludge that muddled his brain beyond comprehension. The towers were that of the Altean castle, and with a start Shiro began to realize who he was exactly.

That's right, he understood now, I was on a journey… to…? For…?

The harder he pulled at his own memories, the stronger the strings that wound around his thoughts tightened. He couldn't make sense of anything else without exhausting his minimal resources.

Let's start from the beginning... I am Takashi Shirogane, a human of Altea.

Human of Altea…

He felt himself falling forward, vision flashing bright white before receding into black. His ears began to ring, and distantly he felt his body hit the sand with the softest thump. As if the dunes themselves were offended for bearing the weight of his fall, the wind picked up and began to envelop him in grains of sand.

Ever so slowly, he knew he was sinking.

"With all due respect, Princess Allura. We implore you…"

Within the hallowed royal hall of the Altean castle was an assembly of the greatest political minds in all of the country. The twelve councilmen, revered as only those second to the royal line, had gathered today with a desperate plea to the reigning crown Princess Allura.

She sat on a white throne, the blue jewel in her circlet glistening against her white hair. For all her regal elegance and stony façade, Allura herself felt vastly different from her outer appearance. This was not so much an ambush, but still an unfair fight. There was ongoing discontent amongst the supporters of the newly anointed majesty, and she had been advised many times by her most trusted confidante to finally allow the gathering of the twelve before her.

With the pageantry of a royal feast and none of its cheer, a long white marbled table had been set up for her guests, with six chairs on each of the long sides. The table faced her throne at the head of the hall, Allura's Lady-in-Waiting standing on her right, and her one and only adviser on the left. They were to have lunch first and the meeting second, the table littered with bouquets of flowers and polished gemstones so lavish, it could not have been anything else but a sign of power from the Altean throne. Regardless, some of the men at the table, their faces lined with worry, had not touched their plates.

"It has been well over a year, has it not?" one of the men sitting at the front of table was addressing Allura, someone that she could recall was suspected of smuggling weaponry to their enemies.

"A year and two months, yes." Allura responded heavily, her elbow delicately perched on the arm of the throne, hand placed under her chin.

The man sighed before running his hand through his white beard. "We cannot go on like this, your Majesty. We must simply admit that the situation will not rectify itself, and we must take different, drastic measures."

Some of the councilmen behind him nodded their heads in agreement.

The princess looked at the men seated before her, then towards her left, to the wide open columns that showed a spectacular view outside. Spring had arrived to the country, the air was sweet and a soft breeze was felt throughout the hall. But here she was, dealing with the mess before her. Things had certainly changed in a year and two months. She looked back at the men, clearly flustered that she had not yet made any motion to acknowledge their concerns. "And what do you suggest, Councilman Roderick?"

"Give up the search for the Obsidian Paladin, assert your place as the rightful ruler of the throne." He quickly answered, as if the answer was obvious.

"Are you asking me to abandon our one and only Paladin? To simply give up?" Her other hand, free at her side, clenched into a fist.

Councilman Roderick sighed, as if lecturing a child, "There are many other paladins, may I remind you. Peridot, Citrine, Carnelian, and Azurite. We will enlist their help."

"But what if they are not found? May I remind you," She said, pointedly, "That the Obsidian Paladin's first mission was to find and enlist the help of those very people. He had Sir Holt and his firstborn, just shy of knighthood, at his side. All three were lost at the border of Altea."

She had ceased speaking for a moment, her eyes glinting like a polished dagger, "Lost under incredibly suspicious circumstances that have not yet been fully investigated."

He pressed on, deftly avoiding the accusations. "But quickly after that, our enemies drew closer, at all sides, we had no choice but to fall back. It could only be assumed at this point that the Obsidian Paladin had been slain. Let us also not forget that only months before the Paladin's first mission was the untimely death of His Majesty King Alfor, which led to your ascension to the throne, as well as the beginning of many other things."

"Other things?"

"Yes, including the incredible undertaking and promise of protection for an entire country."

At that, Allura's eyes widened, ire bleeding into her features, "It was the right thing to do. Our neighbor, the country Terra, was under siege by the Galra Empire. Were we to allow them to lay waste to their entire civilization?"

"We all voted and agreed that at that time, we believed in you, our princess, and in the humans of Terra. We had believed that they would be able to rally under Altean forces and add to our numbers." The councilman turned to look at his associates, spurred on by their grim faces, "Unfortunately they did nothing but stretch our resources far too thin, and now we are bound to snap like an overly taut string."

"I made it clear that they were under our protection, but nothing more. They are a small country with technologies and magics far less advanced than ours. The humans are free to do as they please. Two of those humans were of course Sir Holt and his son, Matthew."

"But two is nothing in the face of an entire country of worthless barbarians." Councilman Roderick's voice boomed over Allura's, momentarily startling her. At the very back, she heard silverware clattering loudly onto a plate. Somehow one of the councilman had managed to continue with his meal even as tension rolled across the hall. In the silence, a squeaking voice mumbled his deepest apologies.

Princess Allura's eyes were bright, twin stars that revealed her royal heritage, her destined upbringing. Her voice was tight with none of her usual lilting charm as she uttered, "You dare…"

"I do, in the face of a leader who refuses to assume the title of Queen and would rather hide in her father's shadow." He pressed on, recklessly, "We have waited and waited with no result, only failures and false promises. It would be better to sign our agreement and surrender to the Galra Empire, beg for their mercy than to see someone like her stand before your side."

It took everything Allura had in her to not falter under his gaze. Instead she coolly turned her head to her right, where her unassuming human Lady-in-waiting stood. Katie Holt, with her wild brown hair and round, wired rimmed glasses, had been suddenly thrown into the debate. Her freckled face reddened and mouth pinched into a curious shape, but respectfully remained silent.

"A daughter of a noble knight is worthy to stand beside me." The rage that had previously roiled in her was now burning as a steady, bright flame. Allura's face was once again cold, impassable when she turned to address the councilmen. "But clearly you are the unworthy one."

The princess stood, and instantly the eleven other men did the same out of ingrained respect, the chairs squeaking as they were hurriedly pushed out from under them.

"My deepest apologies, but it appears we have reached an impasse." She smiled genially, and a as if a cold wind had gusted into the hall, some of her guests shivered. "It is so unfortunate to have our lunch cut short by such difficult topics, but it is clear that Councilman Roderick and I will have to continue this privately at a later date."

They began to shuffle awkwardly out of the room, each one bowing low and murmuring well wishes to the princess before stepping out. At last there was only Roderick, who bowed low, but maintained seething eye contact with Allura before turning to leave.

The doors of the hall shut, resounding like an ominous gong as the silvery spiraling metals decorating the heavy wood doors glimmering in the afternoon sun. Princess Allura's body crumpled, becoming smaller than it had just been before. Katie, on her right, and Coran, her watchful but silent advisor on her left, rushed to hold her up, their eyes filled with worry.

"I'm fine…" She sighed after a moment, "I'd like to retire to my room."

"He had no right to say any of what he said." Coran, now away from the prying eyes of the councilman, had returned to his usual chatty, animated self. "This entire process has been incredibly hard for everyone involved, and it's clear that something is going on with Roderick to want so badly to turn the others against you."

He nervously pulled at his mustache as they exited to the right, back into the inner chambers of the castle.

"I can't believe they treated you this way… you're the princess." Katie frowned as they passed by numerous doors on either side of the halls. "I agree with Coran, there's something fishy going on with that guy and I'm going to figure out what's up."

Allura took a left, this hallway's ceiling taller than the one before. At the end was a large door to her chambers, two palace guards standing nearby. Before she entered with Katie, she turned to look at Coran, who for some reason, looked incredibly guilty.

"I'm sorry I told you to talk to them. Maybe it wasn't the right choice."

"No," Her voice had hardened now that she had a moment to gather her thoughts, "You were right Coran, keeping them in the dark and allowing them to grumble about their concerns amongst themselves would have cause only more unrest."

She bid farewell to Coran before sinking onto the chair in her parlor, Katie hovering near her with her hands bunched around the green skirt of her uncomfortable ceremonial gown. They were still for a moment before Katie opened her mouth to speak. "You don't think… they're right do you? That Dad- I mean, Sir Holt and Matthew Holt… that they're gone?"

Allura leaned forward, her face unreadable, arms resting on her knees as if in some form of prayer. "No, I don't. I still feel the power of the Obsidian Paladin's weapon. As long as I can feel that much, he's alive. And he was never the type of person that would let his comrades be hurt."

Even in the face of so much adversity, Allura's resolve seemed to gather itself even stronger around her, her mouth set in determination. "I think Shiro's still out there. We just need to keep looking. I believe in him."

"Hey."

A voice called for Shiro, faint and tinny, but with a clear tone of annoyance.

With heavy lidded eyes he blinked to see sunlight streaming through a poorly nailed together wooden slat roof. However, it was only for a moment, and as the room spun around him like he was the axis, he could feel that he was gently closing his eyes, if only to stop the dizzying waltz in his vision.

"Hey."

That voice came once again, insistent for his attention. Shiro groaned to himself and tried to roll onto his side. Much to his regret, that only increased the intensity of the headache pounding behind his eyes, the earth rolling under his body like a wave.

Whoever had been calling for him was now silent, and Shiro was grateful for the quiet. The caller made movements that sounded like they were standing up, heaving a heavy sigh before unceremoniously giving him a hard slap across the face.

He shot off the ground, holding his already reddening cheek gingerly in the palm of his hand. Still dizzy and beyond understanding of the other person's motives, he could only look around and wince, glaring at the offender. Even with dazed eyes, he could blurrily make out a young human man with black hair, his purple eyes wide with curiosity. "Great. You're awake."

"…What?" At the back of his mind, Shiro knew he should be more wary, have his guard up to this stranger, but he also knew he was much too weak. Propping himself up on his other arm, he tried to steady himself.

A quick glance at his surroundings made him realize that he had been laying down on a pile of dried leaves, and the space was a tiny makeshift hut. Outside the wind blew turbulently, the cracks in the walls allowing a fine coat of sand to coat every surface. Not that there were many surfaces in the first place. It was only then that Shiro recalled he had fallen unconscious in The Wasteland.

"Well I mean," the young man interrupted his train of thought, "The last time I did that you didn't respond. I've been doing it every couple of hours to make sure you weren't dead."

Shiro couldn't help but be a bit dry with his response, "Every couple of hours. Slapping me in the face."

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. "What were you…" Shiro started his sentence, not knowing how to end it. He rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to ease his headache. No luck. "What were you going to do if I didn't eventually wake up?"

The stranger shrugged a little too nonchalantly for his comfort, "I dunno. Well if you were dead I would probably throw you back out there. There'd be no point keeping you around."

Shiro cringed a little inwardly at the response before deciding it was better off that he was saved by such an odd person than to have died out there by exposure, starvation, heat stroke, or any combination of the three.

"Oh yeah. Have this." The boy handed him a little cup, made haphazardly out of clay or chiseled out of soft rock. "We don't have a lot of water around here so you're lucky that I had enough to save you."

Something in him finally clicked, and he grasped with shaking hands at the cup before gulping down the liquid quickly. The stranger sighed before getting up to draw more from a basin he had a few feet away, the other side of the hut. He came soon after with the cup full, and Shiro once again drained that gratefully.

"I owe you. What's your name?" Shiro finally asked, his dizziness finally waning.

The young man visibly flinched as if afraid. For a moment it didn't seem like he would answer, but when he did, it was in a quiet voice. "Keith."

"Thank you again Keith. I'm Takashi Shirogane. You can call me just Shiro."

"No problem… Shiro." Keith said, no louder from his previous sentence.

Shiro took the opportunity to lay down once again and close his eyes. "I'm still not feeling 100 percent. So I would appreciate if you just give me a bit more time."

"You're not going to die in the meantime?"

"I don't think so. You can slap me again if you can't wake me the normal way."

"And what would that be?"

"Just call my name."

The next time Shiro woke, it was on his own terms. The wind had settled and the light had left from the sky. Next to him was a low burning pit of firewood, necessary for the freezing desert nights. His head was remarkably clear, and so he finally had the time to remember something incredibly vital to him. He realized he didn't have his weapon sheathed at his side, something he had fought tooth and nail to keep safe for too long. Had it been stolen from him while he wandered the forests and desert, delirious?

Panic stricken, he brushed aside the sand and dried leaves while looking around the tiny hut in the low light. It was then that he noticed beside him, reflecting from the flames dancing, was a sheath and a familiar looking hilt. He drew the sword, and in the firelight he could see the black blade, sinister in its dark coloration and no different from the last time he had seen it. Shiro sighed with relief, deciding to find Keith and thank him once again.

A bit unsteadily, Shiro got up, realizing that he was still a bit shaky, even if his mind was sound. A thick cloth draped over the entrance of the hut, and so he pulled aside, feeling the gritty fabric against his fingers. It wasn't terribly cold, but still on the frigid side of things, he noted to himself. He then looked out onto the landscape, startlingly astounded by a wondrous field of stars dotting the night sky.

He had never seen anything like it, so perfectly clear without the night lights of Altea, or the trees' branches to partially obscure his vision. It was grand, sublime even, and it made Shiro feel strangely small, standing on endless sand dunes in the middle of the desert.

Off into the distance in the dark, he could fuzzily make out a figure that seemed approximately like Keith's. With his sword in hand, he had no concerns and walked towards the body, still remaining passive in his walk. "Keith?" He called out when he got nearer, still not able to completely make out the figure's shape.

Keith turned, and Shiro allowed himself a crooked smile. Of course it was Keith, it wasn't like there was anyone else around after all.

But then he saw the strangely yellow tint of his eyes, and two large purple ears pointing out of the boy's black hair.

"Shiro-"

Instinctively, he drew up his sword, a strange pang of betrayal bloomed in his chest. There was no reason to already feel so attachment to the other boy, but he had just saved his life. Shiro didn't want to believe it, but he also could not deny what he saw before him.

"Shiro…" Keith stuttered a little, looking at the sword in front of him that was poised to strike, "Wait… please, I-"

Only the sound of a heavy sigh could be heard from the Shiro, his tired muscles still ready to wield, to fight.

"Keith… you're Galran?"