Parasite Knight

Part 11 of a fan fiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, Voltron: Legendary Defender or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs to Dreamworks and associated parties.

"It isn't enough to stand up and fight darkness. You've got to stand apart from it, too. You've got to be different from it."
~Fool Moon, Jim Butcher

The blackness is back.

It's thick and cloying as always, so dark and strong Shiro can't see more than a foot in front of his face. It's unnatural and stifling, pressing in on him from all sides, and it feels so cold. And Shiro is familiar enough with this place to notice the new change, as well, as he scuffs his feet on the not-quite-ground, because the soles of his boots catch on tiny little imperfections in the shadow-made surface. There's a little spider's web of cracks spiraling outward from where he stands into the dark, intricate and detailed.

Shiro knows this place enough to know that while he doesn't like the things that hide here, this still isn't a good sign. It's frightening, actually. He feels like he's standing on too-thin ice and watching the little fractures crawl out from beneath him, and he knows it's only a matter of time before it can't take his weight any more and he plunges into the cold, dark depths.

He's not sure what could be darker than where is now. He is sure he doesn't want to find out.

He should move, he knows. He needs to get away from this place, before he falls, before Haggar finds him. He needs to move, but he's so tired. The strength he's had in this place is always minuscule compared to what he knows he's truly capable of, but now he has nothing at all, and he just….he can't keep it up. Not like this.

That's how Haggar finds him—standing, body bowed and shoulders slumped, staring at the spiderweb of cracks growing ever larger beneath him.

She doesn't smile at the sight, which Shiro finds surprising. She bares her teeth at the shadow fragmentations and seems to be considering them carefully, pacing around him as she does. Her clawed hands flex, slow and sure, like she aches to put them around his throat, or wrench them around his heart.

It occurs to Shiro she's not as happy by his inevitable fall as he'd expect. It occurs even later to him that perhaps she's not happy with it because it means she loses a plaything. He's honestly not sure which end would be worse.

Shiro's not sure what kind of sign Haggar is waiting for, but she must eventually get it. Her angry snarl curls upward into a smile, and she glides towards him effortlessly, stepping easily over the cracks and crevices in the ground. It seems to take her weight just fine, or maybe she's hovering, with the way she moves so smoothly. She raises one clawed hand for him, and something in him screams to fight, run, anything, but he's just so tired. He tries, he raises an arm weakly to shield himself, takes a wobbling step back, feels the ground shift alarmingly under his feet. It's not enough—Haggar doesn't even have to counter his movements. She just reaches out and calmly snatches at his left wrist.

Only, her hands never actually touch his sleeve. She tries to wrap her fingers around his arm, but they wrap around the gold crystal mounted against his wrist, not unlike the guards of his paladin armor.

Wait…crystal?

Shiro stares at it in confusion. He doesn't remember this crystal from his armor or around the castle or even the Balmera, and he's sure he would have remembered one as unique as this. It's a soft gold color and seems to have its own inner glow. It looks like condensed mist, constantly swirling and shifting gently, but when Shiro flexes his wrist slowly to test it, it feels perfectly solid.

And as he watches it seems to grow up his arm, shifting to conform to the shape as needed. He's reminded of the second Robeast they fought on the Balmera, when the living planet had finally joined the fight, with one key difference: these crystals aren't trying to kill him. They're trying to protect him. Before long Shiro finds himself outfitted armor similar to his own paladin uniform, with crystalline vambraces, greaves, cuirass and pauldrons. Each piece looks transparent and fragile, but is more solid than steel when put to the test. And each piece seems to encase him in strength, as well. The pieces are already lighter than the armor he's used to, but he finds his weariness diminishes and he's able to stand tall with his shoulders straight once again.

And Shiro feels more than a physical sort of strength, too. There's an unwavering, reliable stability with him, and he knows it will hold him up through this entire battle if it has to, loan him the strength and the willpower and carry him if need be. It's powerful kindness and fierce loyalty and courage in the darkest moments and it surges through his mind in a rush, solid and supportive and protective. Hands off, it seems to rumble, low and warning, as Haggar tightens her grip. You'll free him. Now.

Haggar looks furious, and tries to dig her fingers in savagely, but her claws—while incredibly sharp, as Shiro knows from first hand experience—don't even leave the tiniest of scratches or swirls in the smokey crystal. She slashes at his whole arm instead, and her sharp nails shatter on impact, and the cracks and splinters grow up her hand and arm, fragmenting it into shards that dissolve into ash.

She screams in anger, and steps back into the dark, vanishing.

But Shiro knows she won't be gone for long. He turns to look for her, the glow of quintessence-made armor illuminating his vision. And as he does he shifts, feet catching on the cracks in the ground again. He freezes, eyes wide, as he stares at the ground and remembers how close he was to breaking through—

But the ground holds, and doesn't shift unnaturally beneath his feet. To his surprise, the spider-web of cracks are still there, but seem to be filled with gold instead, holding the unsteady landscape beneath him together. It reinforces, creates stability, a foundation for Shiro to stand on, and he feels…he feels safe here, for the first time since he arrived.

This quintessence—Hunk's quintessence—won't let him fall.

A feeling of warning is the only sense Shiro gets before the air is filled with a furious screech and a crackle of energy. Shiro turns in time to see an arc of purple lightning blasting towards him, and he throws his left hand up to shield his face, closing his eyes against the brightness and bracing for the blast.

It never comes. Shiro cracks his eyes in confusion, and finds a crystalline shield has grown off of his wrist-armor, not unlike the collapsible shields the paladin armor uses. It crackles and sparks with purple energy around the edges, and the gold mist the shield is made of whirls and twists quickly in agitation, but the druidic magic never touches Shiro.

He looks out into the blackness and sees Haggar, her only hand raised, fingertips still sparking with magic. She looks livid, and paces restlessly. But she doesn't try it again, and she doesn't come closer. She seems to know the attempt is useless, as long as Shiro isn't alone.

And he knows he isn't alone. His quintessence armor proves it. But even if the energy never adjusts its shape beyond the form it's already taken, he can all but feel Hunk standing next to him, wearing that same determined look he had on the day he declared his understanding for what being a paladin really meant. He can all but see Hunk alongside him, hefting his massive bayard easily as he keeps it trained in Haggar's direction, loyal and determined to do the right thing, no matter how frightening it might be to try. And the quintessence seems to hum around him, and it waits, strong and stable.

Rest easy, it seems to say. It's safe for now. I'll shield you.

And it does, but it does far more than that. Haggar can't bypass that armor to strike at his soul, but it holds him together, too. He's been so tired, so close to fracturing; there's not enough left of him to last, not in all the chaos in his head and with the upsets in his mind. But Hunk's quintessence finds all the pieces and holds them together and shelters them, and Shiro can feel himself regrouping. He holds. Just a little while longer, but he manages.

It's stunning, really. How loyal and protective each of these quintessences have been, yet how vastly diverse they are in showing it. Hunk's quintessence is by no means aggressive like Keith's or even Pidge's had been. Of them all it's most similar to Lance's, and maybe that makes sense. Hunk is also a leg of Voltron, and like Lance, his first priority is supporting the team. But where Lance's quintessence had still favored an aggressive defense, Hunk's remains unshakable and unbreakable—pure, unrelenting defense. It doesn't actively strike against Haggar, but it absolutely will not be broken, either, and Haggar can beat against it until she withers to dust—her attempts will always be meaningless. And that's a different kind of strength entirely, but one that Shiro knows shouldn't be underestimated.

Haggar can't take him. Not while he's protected. Not while Hunk's quintessence guards him.

For a time, it feels safe again. Shiro doesn't really rest, not now; he's too drained of his own quintessence to be able to manage it, and even with Hunk's quintessence giving him strength he can't quite manage to get below the surface into true sleep. But he's calm, at least, and he feels safe, for a time. For a while, Haggar can't hurt him. For a while, he's safe from whatever vile memories she wants to relieve, from whatever awful things she wants to reveal about him to himself.

But it won't last. He knows it, because it never has, and there's only so much any of them can give. Shiro doesn't know how much time passes, but he can feel when his shoulders start to sag again, when the strength Hunk's quintessence gives him starts to waver. When minuscule cracks start to craw their way up the surface of the crystalline armor.

He knows it's the end when Haggar's eyes fixate on him, and she flexes her only hand, dragging her sharp claws through the shadows. Waiting. Knowing. Ready.

Leave, Hunk's quintessence warns him suddenly. It feels more tired now. Weaker. More anxious now, but still giving Shiro the strength he needs. Hurry.

And it isn't really surprising to Shiro that Hunk's quintessence gives nearly the same advice that Lance's had towards the end. Support the internal team first, preserve, protect those close to you before extending. If you can't, and you aren't backed into a corner and forced to fight for everything you have, then run. Live to fight another day, and come back stronger.

Shiro takes the advice, and he runs.

He doesn't get very far.

This time, Haggar doesn't simply appear in front of him and block his path. This time, Shiro feels something hit him hard from behind, a crackling burst of power that sends him overbalancing. He hits the ground and cries out in pain as he rolls; he feels the not-quite-solid surface beneath him shift as cracks begin to sprout in its surface anew, wherever he touches. He tries to push himself away from it, roll to his feet to run, but before he can something digs hard into his collar and drags him up to his knees.

Hunk's quintessence tries to flood him with strength, give him the power to run, fight back, anything. But there's no more strength left to give, and Shiro struggles, even as Haggar glides into his view again and stares down at him coldly.

Then she slams the fingers of her only remaining hand into his crystalline cuirass, and presses down hard.

For a moment, Shiro can feel Hunk's quintessence scramble to resist. It's weak, and he can feel edges of Hunk's nervousness and anxiety, rolled over by his courage. But there's not enough anymore. For one eternal second the armor seems to harden and resist with everything the quintessence has left, and Shiro is almost sure Hagger will shatter again.

But then her claws sink deeply into the smokey crystal, and the cracks in it grow wider. Her hand twists, and the solidity of it is lost suddenly as the gold drains to gray. It wavers for a moment, and then crumbles into dust and disappears into the dark. The rest of the armor turns ashen and slides off of his shoulders and arms and legs as well, scattering into nothing, and Shiro is alone again.

Alone and so, so tired.

He struggles to hold himself together, but it's so difficult without Hunk's strength. He barely understands where he is anymore. What's happening. He hurts everywhere—in body, in mind, in soul. The cracks beneath him grow wider, more gaping, and there's nothing left to stabilize it. There's nothing left of himself to hold anything together. He's frozen inside and empty and weak.

The hand that fastens around his throat manages to startle him, and he finds himself being lifted as easily as if he were a toy. Haggar holds him above her head with a strength that doesn't seem to fit into her thin body, and smiles. He manages to raise his left hand to her wrist to hold on, but it's a weak action at best. He doesn't have an ounce of strength to try and fight back.

He can barely see her in the darkness as it is, and his grayed vision blurs further as she digs in with her fingers and steals his breath away. He can feel blood dribbling down the sides of his neck, and scratches weakly at her wrist. It does nothing.

He watches in muddled confusion as she seems to sigh, and the shattered stump of her right hand seems to bubble. He watches as it regrows itself, boiling and twisting until a wrist and palm and fingers rip their way free from her skin, as her long claws grow back into place. He can't bring himself to feel surprise. He hurts to much to bother.

She breathes deep again, flexes her newly re-grown hand experimentally, and nods. Then she takes that new hand, and plunges it straight into his heart again.

Like before, he screams. He can't not. But this is a tired, strangled noise, choked and weak from his stolen breath, and it cuts into a pained whimper. He scratches weakly at her wrist again, but it's all he can manage. He can feel her ice-cold fingers on his ice-cold heart and he can't seem to fathom a world where he isn't frozen at the core and mindlessly suffering anymore, he just hurts hurts hurts everything hurts everything is broken and collapsing and shattering inside he can't hold together anymore there's nothing left in him to give—

I'm doing this to save you, you know, Shiro hears.

He tries to gasp. It comes out as more of a choked whine. That's Haggar's voice, but it isn't until she speaks that he realizes he's never, ever heard her here. She's laughed but never spoken. Attacks but never taunts. Glares but never challenges. But she speaks now, and…and he doesn't know what that means, but it sends a spark of fear through the emptiness inside him. He claws at her wrist a little more insistently, tries to force back the pain and the cold long enough to…to what, he's not sure. To do something. Anything.

It makes you stronger, Haggar says, as her fingers tighten around his heart. If you would do your part, anyway. If you would let me help.

Shiro doesn't believe her. Not for a second. Her promises are poison and cleverly woven lies. Trust the paladins, he reminds himself.

I could make you better, Haggar insists. Her claws dig deeper. I could make you feel whole again. Full. Human. Alive. If you let me.

Don't trust her. Don't believe her. She lies.

You are dying, she says. You do understand that, don't you? You are dying. You have been for days.

Because of you, Shiro wants to scream. I'm dying because of you, because you turned me into a parasite and made a weapon out of me. This is your fault. This is all your fault. But he doesn't have the breath to whimper much less scream in outrage. He chokes, claws at her hand. Thinks his vision may be blacking out. Not sure. It's so black already.

Your accomplices have been trying to help, Haggar says. She sounds…serious. Not laughing. Not taunting. Cold, but not out of malice, just matter-of-fact. But they can't help you the way you need. But I can. And I want you to survive, Champion. More than anything I will see you survive. And that is what you want, too, or I wouldn't be here, would I?

No, no, no. He wants to live but not like this. Not paying whatever price Haggar would have him give. It can't be worth it. She lies.

There's only so long I can hold you out of the dark, Haggar says. Her teeth flash in the gloom, bared but not in a grin. Her bright yellow eyes flick for just a moment down to the ground beneath Shiro, and he realizes, through hazy senses and agonizing pain, that the cracks have grown wider, that the ground has started to shatter. She's killing him, and at the same time she's keeping him from falling deeper still.

Shiro doesn't know what that means. It hurts too much to think about.

I only have so much strength left, Haggar continues. Give me yours. Just enough. Just enough to make me stronger, just enough to leave your heart still beating, Champion, and we shall invest that energy into an even greater spell. I will help you harvest all the energy you need. Everything to survive and then some.

But at what cost? That energy has to come from somewhere. It's not his to take. He won't. He digs his fingers weakly into her wrist, and they twitch madly when another spasm of pain wrenches through his whole body. Oh, god, he really is dying.

It's not like it's new to you, Haggar says, more insistent now. If Shiro wasn't going mad with agony he'd have almost said she sounded urgent. But Haggar never sounds urgent. She demands, she orders, she slyly manipulates strings to get what she wants, but time is never against her.

This isn't the first time you've harvested energy. There have been others. Dozens of others. Harronox. Korrixan. Medgar the Scythe. Barrok. Killi'iesh the Serpent. Ripper. Malosek. Goretusk. Zerik the Savage.

Shiro doesn't recognize all the names, but he does feel a far-off sense of memory with each one as she lists them off, intermingled with stabs of pain and twisted thoughts. Opponents, in the ring. The deadly fighters. The ones he'd nearly craved a match against, desperate for that primal high that came with victory. Starving for energy without realizing it. Stealing lives without knowing.

He wants to be sick. He's not even strong enough to be.

And still her list keeps going.

There's so many names. He can't remember any of the battles, but he knows each name has a story, and none of them left that ring with their life force intact…if they left at all. And it's always because of him. Always. Before the way the name Champion was uttered made him uneasy. Now, as her list goes on, it terrifies him.

Kosul. Moonbreaker. Natesh the Bloodthirsty. Dagger-in-the-Dark.

Shiro freezes. Another spasm of pain wracks him as Haggar draws one of her claws almost gently around his still, frozen heart, dripping a little more of his lifeblood down her wrist and into the dark. She pauses, for one very long moment, and then continues.

Marrowstorm. Haltiesh Stonerender.

No.

Alleris the Blade. Mogonosh. Phenris the Devourer.

No, he wouldn't have. Not knowing. He would never have. No, no, no.

But he did. He had. He can't remember but he knows without a shadow of a doubt it's true. He's a parasite by her design but by his own choice. No, no, no—

Sendak. Haggar.

And then Haggar stares him in the eye, and when she speaks next, her teeth are bared in a savage smile, and she looks hungry.

The life of the Castle of Lions, courtesy of Princess Allura of Altea.

No.

Red Paladin Keith.

No.

Blue Paladin Lance.

No.

Green Paladin Pidge.

No.

Yellow Paladin Hunk.

No!

Shall we strike at the adviser next? Altean energy is vibrant, but dense. Difficult to harvest but I shall put it to good use. You will survive, Champion, I will see to it.

No! Not like this! Never like this! He can't make a noise, but his mind is screaming now, not from his agony but from his wild terror at the thought of Haggar striking at any of his friends. Using him to do so. No, no, no, he can't, he can't, he won't—

He struggles against her, digging fingers deeply into her wrist, trying to tear at the tendons. He's ice cold inside and her claws are so deep in his heart but his terror warms him anew. He can't. He won't. No, no, no—

Or perhaps the paladins, Haggar says, seemingly unconcerned with his struggle. She still looks hungry. Wild. Dangerous. Less quintessence, yes, but not yet drained. There's still some yet to take. Paladin quintessence is always strong, the Lions choose for that strength. Drain them dry and I will make you stronger for it, Champion, I will make you survive—

NO!

No, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want to just survive, standing over the bodies of his friends, his family, living at any cost like a rabid animal. He wants to live. To form memories that don't make him cringe or shake in fear. To fight for a purpose besides staying alive just one more day. To earn the respect and love of his family, help them, fight for them, protect them. To go home to Earth one day without any regrets.

And if Haggar promises only survival at the expense of anything and everything important to him, then it's too much of a cost to bear. No matter what.

Shiro doesn't know where he finds the strength in himself. He doesn't know if it's some tiny minuscule holdover from the quintessences freely given to him, if some small part of the strength of the other paladins is left hidden for just the right moment. He doesn't know if it's what's left of his own black paladin's quintessence, drawing together the last of its strength and ideals to fight one last time. He doesn't know if it's just pure, raw, undiluted terror at the thought of Haggar hurting his friends.

He doesn't know, but he doesn't care. He finds it, and he uses the last of it in one last attack. He digs his fingers so deeply into Haggar's wrist he hears the bones crunch suddenly, and her eyes widen in surprise. Her hand spasms around his heart and her other around his throat and he lets out a choked scream, because it's pure, absolute agony and torment and he can't not, but he doesn't stop. He kicks with one of his dangling legs, and it's enough to make her arm snap, and her fingers twitch. He slides free of her grip, and collapses.

You idiot, she snarls in his head. You'll die! Give me the last of your energy and I can preserve you! Let me take it! You'll die without me!

I don't care, Shiro thinks, and he doesn't care if she can hear him, either. I don't care. I won't pay my soul just to survive. No longer. That isn't me. I'm done.

And he crashes through the fractured shadowed ground into the blackness beyond.

No update tomorrow, 'cause I need to get some stuff done!