Notes: This fic has gone through a great deal of changes. It all started when Forest wrote “Gravitate to Me”, and let me write a small snippet from Keith’s POV. Things sort of grew from there.

The second section, Tsuchioki, was sparked by one of Willow’s pictures (the one that’s not in color), and it used to be known as “Forging Links”.

The third section, Yaki-ire, used to be known as “Breaking Point”.

The fourth section, Yaki-modoshi, was once known as “Quenched”.

The fifth section, Kaijitogi, used to be “Tempering”.

The seventh section, Shiagetogi, is a mirror to Forest’s “Gravitate to Me”, and used to be known as “Anchor”.

Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron. The website I used for the swordmaking excerpts is: the part labeled Naginata Blade Construction.

Warning: I don’t know Japanese. Therefore, the Japanese words I use may be used in entirely the wrong ways. And… anyone watch the movie “Ghost Dog”? This story is written in a similar style as that movie. So, rather than a songfic, this is a quotefic.

Thanks to Forest for letting me write in the world of “Gravitate.” And for the beta’ing and encouragement. And thanks to Taryn for beta’ing, encouragement, and putting Anchor up on her site.

JoAnn

Feedback, as always, is appreciated. Thanks!

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Prologue

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The Habaki is a small metal "collar" which fits snugly over the blade at the point where the tang (nakago) meets the blade. It is usually made of copper, although gold, silver, and other metals are frequently added for decorative purposes.

The habaki prevents the blade from being scratched as it slides in and out of the saya (scabbard) by allowing the blade to slide only on its burnished back surface. This is done by placing the rough habaki on the mune and hammering it along the length of the mune until it conforms exactly to the surface of the blade. Anything less will result in slippage and possible damage to the blade.

The habaki also holds the blade firmly in place in the scabbard's opening (the koiguchi). A small wedge of copper, called the machigane, is placed inside the habaki in the area adjacent to the hamachi. The machigane is then soldered into place, where it provides maximum support for the blade.

Now that the habaki is properly fitted to the blade, it is filed to fit the opening of the saya.

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Curled around Keith, Sven sighs. Murmuring into the dark hair, he grumbles. “I don’t want to leave.”

The lithe body twists in his arms, large black eyes opening to meet his. “I don’t want you to leave.” Long slender fingers trace trails of heat across Sven’s face. “But I suppose we could think of this as a learning exercise. Apparently, we’re too dependent on each other -- loving each other must have been the last straw.”

Dark brown eyes glittering, a frown creases Sven’s forehead. “Fools. We work so well together, best friends or beloved, I don’t understand why that difference would be enough so that they’d want to split us up.”

Shivering, Keith presses closer, tucking his head under Sven’s chin. “They’re afraid they’ll lose both of us, if one of us dies.”

Arms tightening, Sven rocks Keith gently. Eyes skittering toward the clock, seeing that time is slipping by at a frightening rate, he lets his comforting touch turn into something more incendiary. Hands moving urgently over the body twisted onto him, Sven murmurs into silken skin. “Let’s not think about that, now. We only have a few more hours…” Pushing away the insistent feeling that he’ll never feel Keith like this again, Sven concentrates on the present. Time enough to worry about the future when it comes to pass.

--------------------

Stretching, Sven lets loose a sigh of relief. Home at last. Striding swiftly through the airlock, he scans the room for a particular mop of dark hair and pale skin. Catching sight of a familiar movement, Sven hurries forward, only to check slightly, eyes widening at the picture before him. Keith’s there, for sure, but with him is someone else. Someone whose arm Keith holds in a casual grip even as he waves to Sven.

Taking in the newcomer’s dress, his apparently habitual smirk, and his stance, Sven can feel his face grow icy with disapproval. Meeting Keith’s puzzled black eyes, Sven desperately tries to damp down his reaction. His anger at the newcomer grows as he can see the two of them exchange meaningful amused glances. Keith never did that with anyone except me…

Forcibly shaking off his jealousy, Sven pulls his calm around him like a wall of silence. Moving serenely forward, he meets Keith halfway.

--------------------

Watching the two old friends greet each other, Lance slowly shakes his head. Handsome enough. But, he’s Keith’s friend. And Keith’s my friend, and more importantly, the best pilot I’ve flown with. If I mess with his best friend, Keith’s not likely to stay friends with me. So, it’s hands off. A pity. He’s certainly got enough pride and intelligence to make the game interesting. Even if I prefer arrogant blindness.

--------------------

Walking Keith to the door, Sven holds to his calm with everything he has. As soon as it shuts behind his best friend, Sven sags against it. Shutting his eyes, two tears slowly seep out, painting glistening trails down his cheeks. He wants to be friends only...

~owari~

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To Make a Blade encompasses three levels. First is the kitae, or forging process. Second is the tempering or heat treatment. Third and last is polishing. The first and second processes are performed by a swordsmith, as is the bare beginning of the third part. But an expert polisher, or togishi completes the finishing touches to the blade. The togishi needs to be highly skilled in his ability to appraise swords. By simply looking at the blade he must be able to tell how, where, and when it was forged. Since polishing is an abrasive process, the blade can only be polished a limited number of times. But if the blade is properly cared for, the polish should last for a hundred years.

A final note. Remember, a blade in battle has to be flexible enough to withstand direct impacts and thrusting types of cuts without breaking, but it also has to be hard enough to keep a sharp cutting edge. It is important to note that the finished blade is NOT a laminate, but instead consists of two separate pieces of steel which, through the forging process, have been welded together.

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Tamahagane is the raw steel used to make the blades. It is made from smelted satetsu, a special type of black sand. Japanese blades are unique in that they are both flexible and carry a sharp edge. This is managed through the welding of two different forms of tamahagane. The core is flexible, and correspondingly softer, called shingane. The outer jacket holds the edge, yet it is also more brittle, and it is called kawagane.

===============

Smiling wickedly, Lance manages to smooth his face into a properly awed expression. New meat. Lovely. I’ve not had a Prince before… Nudging his roommate, Lance grins. “What do you think about this Prince Avok of Pollux?”

Lifting his eyebrow, Keith turns slightly, examining said Prince from the corner of his eye. “Hm. Not up to your usual standards of beauty.”

“Ah, but his arrogance is perfect.” I so enjoy crushing it out of them.

Black eyes regard Lance mildly. “Be careful, okay? One time of running interference between you and the authorities was more than enough. Besides, another interplanetary incident at your door might just get you kicked out.”

Lance manages to pull on his most innocent look. “You just don’t want to be put through the bother of training another roommate.”

Keith looks as solemn as Lance looks innocent. “Just so. Don’t inconvenience me.” With that, Keith leaves, the barest glint of humor buried in his eyes.

Shivering, Lance grins. If you had that façade in place the first time I met you, Keith… Shaking his head, Lance rises smoothly to his feet. Doesn’t matter now. I know you, Keith, and you aren’t what I need. No matter how much I want you. Settling a half-shy expression on his face, he moves gracefully toward the door, knowing that the sun will catch on his skin and draw his prey’s eyes to him. And I like you, Keith. Too much to risk our friendship for sex.

--------------------

Keeping his face blank with more effort than usual, Sven waits while the Princeling he’s showing around poses and looks over the other students. Eyes flickering to Keith’s shape, Sven feels desire and jealousy twisting inside him. If he had been the one to be Keith’s roommate, rather than that whore of a… The abrupt increase in tension in his companion forcibly pulls Sven’s attention back to the Princeling.

Eyes intent, Prince Avok follows the delicate beauty’s progress through the herd of common students. “Who is that?” Pointing with his chin, his gaze is locked in place even as he interrogates his escort.

Sven smothers a sigh. “You mean the brown-haired guy walking away from us?”

Avok nods impatiently. “Of course, him.”

Sven rolls his eyes mentally, but his voice is glass-smooth and calm. “He’s Lance Kawagane; like me, he’s in his second year in the Academy. I suggest you stay away from him.” Not that you’re going to listen to me. “His lovers always regret having known him.” Frankly, seeing you get your come-uppance is almost worth Lance glowing.

Prince Avok smirks, not really registering anything this Sven Koshirae says after the name. “You don’t really like me, do you Sven. Why don’t you see if Lance can take over showing me around.” With that, Avok strides grandly away to his room.

Taking a deep breath, Sven holds the anger deep inside, until he has control once more. On your head be it.

--------------------

Dropping his tray with a thump, Sven sits down across from Keith. Nodding at Lance, his lips quirk slightly, distaste hidden away. “You got another one. On purpose, I assume.”

Showing his teeth, Lance manages to pull on surface politeness for Keith’s sake. How someone so bright could be best friends with someone so cold… “Of course. Did you really want to suffer through his company while showing him around?”

“No. We’re even -- I didn’t do my best to let him know what he was getting into.”

Flourishing his hand, Lance mock-bows. “Much appreciated.”

Lips twitching, Keith keeps his eyes on his food. How oblivious do they think I am? It is touching that they tolerate each other so that I can eat with both of them. And the hidden bite in their conversation makes meals with them interesting. I wish they’d appreciate each other, though. Fire and ice ought to be friends, if only because opposites attract. I always wondered why Lance didn’t want Sven. I suppose pride is a different sort of thing than arrogance… Abruptly, Keith notices the silence and can feel two pairs of eyes focused intently on him. Looking up, he pastes an innocent, clueless look on his face. “Yes…?”

Sven lifts an eyebrow. Lance snorts, and grumbles, “You could pay attention to us, you know.”

Keith blinks, his eyes wide and guileless. “But, it’s the same conversation as it was about the last victim, Cosak Makarygin. Sven’s complaining about him, and you’re using his complaints to help plan your attack. We’ve been through this enough times that you both know what I’d say, so why do I even need to listen…?”

Sven drops his forehead into his hand. Lance slumps to the table, groaning.

Keith smirks, and finishes his lunch.

--------------------

And so it came to pass that Prince Avok of Pollux learned a lesson in humility as well as to hate the Alliance to which his planet was bound.

===============

Tsuchioki is the application of a clay mixture to the rough form of the blade so that different parts of the blade can be cooled slower or faster to be more flexible or harder after quenching.

===============

Speechlessly, Lance stares at the rose. Arms wrap around him, a body folds entirely around him.

Tucking his head onto Lance’s shoulder, Keith murmurs softly. “You like?”

Hunching his shoulders, still in shock, for a moment more, Lance can barely manage breathing. In that moment, staring at the rose, all he can feel is Keith. Keith pressed along the entire length of his back, Keith’s hands ember-hot on his shoulder and chest, Keith’s chin a point of fire on top of his right shoulder, Keith’s hair as silken strands stroking his cheek... Fear rising in him, he breaks free of Keith’s hold, whirling around to face the other man, rose held in his right hand, at a distance, as if he was holding a snake. “What is going on?”

Letting his arms drop to his sides, still infuriatingly calm, Keith arches an eyebrow. “What do you think is happening?”

Snarling, Lance makes a sharp gesture with his left hand as he shakes the rose in his right. “Keith, I’d’ve thought you of all people would know better --”

Eyes glittering, Keith meets Lance’s eyes, stilling him with a look. “Oh, I do.”

Lance rocks backward in shock, eyes widening even further. “But then…”

Keith’s mouth thins. Abandoning the rules, since Lance refuses to respond properly, he gives up and tries shock tactics. They worked well enough earlier. “I love you.” Never having let go of Lance’s eyes, Keith glides forward within arms reach. “Do you want me?”

Lance, backed up to a wall, frantically wrenches his gaze from Keith’s. Love. He said… But… that’s not possible… Thoughts scambling inside, Lance refuses to hear the small voice inside telling him that Keith has never spoken a lie to him. “You can’t want me.” You can’t possibly… Not with all you know about me… “You don’t play these games. We’re friends -- why are you doing this?”

Keith’s arm suddenly snaps forward and his hand grabs Lance by the chin, forcing his head up. Eyes huge and dark enough for Lance to drown in, snare him, this time for good. “No, I don’t play the games you do. But I know you. Those games are the only way you can see someone as a lover. I can play, if that’s what you need. I’m willing to take the chance.”

Lance licks his lips nervously. Three words echo in his soul. ‘I know you’ Gods. “If -- if we do this, it will change both of us, damage our friendship. You really want” love “me that much?” He trembles slightly against his wall, though the only contact between them is Keith’s eyes and the hand on his chin.

Keith smiles slowly at Lance. A beautiful sight, the love in that expression almost breaks Lance, mixed as it is with resignation and acceptance. “I love you that much. The way I feel, our friendship is already at risk. If all I have is a short while as your lover, I’ll take it and treasure it for as long as it lasts. Our friendship is strong enough to survive even a disastrous love affair -- more so than it would survive an unrequited crush on my part. At least I’ll finally feel that any possibility of being your lover has been dealt with.”

Swallowing nervously, Lance manages to meet Keith’s honesty with his own. “I don’t want just a short time. Not with you. And I don’t want games with you. I just...” Choking a bit, Lance focuses on the hope starting to rise in Keith’s eyes to force himself to continue. “I just want to be with you.” I love you.

Joy lighting his face, banishing the shadows, Keith leans forward for a kiss.

Frantically, Lance manages to stop Keith from finishing his action. “Wait! You don’t really understand. I want to be with you, but I need to have the game.”

Puzzled, his joy dimming, Keith looks questioningly at Lance. “You want me, but you need the game? What exactly do you mean?”

Unable to look away from those dark eyes, Lance flinches inwardly. “I mean... I can’t play the game with you. But I need to play with someone. So... I have to have other lovers. Can you understand that? Can you accept that?” Steeling himself for rejection, Lance denies himself the relief of breaking their eye contact.

Keith looks deeply into Lance’s eyes for the truth. “So… we’ll be lovers, but there are parts of you I can’t touch that you must share with others?”

Lance nods miserably. “And...” He swallows nervously, cringing inwardly. “I can’t share you. You’d have to stop being my lover before you took another. I know it’s not fair. I understand if you can’t accept this--” No way, absolutely no way Keith’ll go for it. We’ll go back to being friends, forget this truth was ever shared between us.

Keith takes a deep breath in, and lets it out. Even though he can feel the ache of future hurt, Keith can also feel the utter certainty that he can’t go on the way they were. “I don’t know if I can deal with it. I don’t know if we’ll last. But I’d like to try.” At least, this way, I’ll have some deeper hold on Lance, for however short a time.

Lance nods slowly, shocked hope in his eyes. He’s willing… How can he be…? And I couldn’t even tell him I love him. Relaxing, he meets Keith half-way for their first kiss -- soft, gentle, and innocent. Then again, maybe he knows.

===============

Yaki-ire is the water quenching process. This is done in the dark of the night. The smith heats the blade, and judges when to plunge the blade into water by the color of the blade. This process is how the molecular structure of the blade changes so that the kawagane can hold an edge. Fewer than half the blades survive this process without cracking.

===============

Shutting his eyes in despair, Keith turns over restlessly in bed. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I thought I could handle it. But knowing that Lance is out, having sex with someone, rather than here with me... Punching his pillow, Keith squirms around, attempting to get comfortable. I thought I could take it. I thought having a little bit of Lance was better than nothing. But this is even worse than before. I don’t think I can keep doing this, seeing him go to someone else... Every time he does, I get more twisted inside, angrier, and more jealous. Much more of this and I’ll become someone I don’t like.

--------------------

The next day, back from assignment, Sven’s eyes widen in shock at the changes in Keith. “What’s wrong? You look as if you haven’t slept in weeks. And you’re not taking care of yourself-- you’re even thinner than when I left.”

Keith smiles wryly. “Welcome back, Sven.” Impulsively hugging his friend, Keith relaxes fully for the first time since he started his affair with Lance. “How have you been?”

Concerned, Sven tightens his arms around Keith. “Better than you. Don’t change the subject. Keeping everything inside doesn’t work. You need to talk to someone.” Knowing how stubborn Keith is, Sven carefully keeps his wording as neutral as he can stand to.

Sighing, tucking his head against Sven’s chest, Keith nods. “I know. Thanks for worrying.” Reluctantly, he pulls away, meeting Sven’s concerned eyes with a slight smile. “But you still have to unpack. And I’d rather not talk about it in public.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Sven cautiously lets Keith go. At least this time he’s willing to talk. Though, for that to happen, whatever it is has to be really bad... “All right. I’ll wait. But once we’re at my room, you will speak.”

Keith’s smile widens. “Deal.”

Frozen in a back corridor, Lance stares as they leave. Walking in public, they don’t touch anymore, yet remain perfectly in sync.

--------------------

In his room, Sven starts to unpack, Keith automatically helping him. Stealing a sideways glance at his friend, Sven shakes his head and decides to let Keith delay just a little bit more.

Once done unpacking, Sven gives up on subtlety and asks his main concern. “This is about Lance, isn’t it?”

Keith twitches in surprise at being pushed. Sven spent way too much time with Hunk, during that last assignment… “Yeah... I finally went through with it.”

Sven narrowed his eyes, face tightening in anger. “And -- what? He accepted and then threw you away like everyone else he plays with? Or did he feed you the spiel about friendship?” Jealous anger snarls deep inside Sven at the thought of Lance throwing away love that Sven would accept in a second, whatever the price.

Laughing involuntarily at the tirade, Keith holds up his hands. “Slow down. Nothing like that. Actually...” for an instant, Keith’s face softens. “we’re still lovers.”

Sven stares in shock at the rapt look on Keith’s face. “Gods.” I never thought Lance could see Keith as more than a friend... His heart twists inside of him. Gaining control of himself, he manages to say, roughly, “So what is going on, if it isn’t Lance?”

Keith’s eyes focus back on Sven. A pain-filled smile twists his lips up. “Oh, it’s Lance. Because he cares for me, he can’t play any of his games with me. But he still needs the game so he has other lovers.”

Sven falls back onto his bed with a thump. “I can’t believe he’s got you and he’s still messing around!” I can’t believe you hold yourself so low that you would stand for such treatment. When you were mine, I never treated you like that… “Tell me it goes both ways, at least...”

Keith’s smile turns genuine. “Thanks for the compliment.” Keith’s eyes light with laughter. “You know me; can you really see me with more than one lover?”

Sven just rolls his eyes. Unfortunately, no. “Well, if Lance is doing it to you, he ought to get a taste of what it feels like.”

Keith shakes his head. “It’s nothing like that. I knew what was going to happen, going in to this. I thought I could handle it. But I don’t think I can take him screwing around with so many other people. I think I’m going to have to break it off with him...”

Sven regards Keith. “Lance has never liked to share. I’ll bet he told you that he’d mess around, but that you couldn’t.”

Keith flinches.

Sven snorts. “I think you’d be well rid of him.” And maybe then, I’d get a second chance.

Keith sighs softly. “I know. At least now that we’ve tried and failed, maybe I can finally get over him.”

Carefully, Sven pulls Keith down into his arms. Stroking the silky black hair, Sven holds on, radiating comfort as Keith curls closer, tearlessly.

Soaking in the comfort, Keith unheedingly lets go of one last ache. “He never said he loved me.” Though he acted like he did…

At those quiet words, Sven freezes, resentful fury and loss almost overwhelming him -- only the warm, needy weight of Keith in his arms keeps him in place.

--------------------

When Keith finally returns to his room, he is startled by the controlled, angry presence of Lance.

“Lance -- what’s wrong?”

“I saw you with Sven.”

Confused, Keith stares at Lance. “So? Sven just got back. Of course I’d go see him.”

Lance glowers. “You shouldn’t. You promised me no one else.” You don’t have more than one lover at one time; what were you _doing_ with him?

Staring back at his deranged beloved, Keith barks out a short and ugly laugh. “Coming from you, that’s rich. You who flirts with everyone right in front of me. Who seduces people right in front of me. And I can’t even speak with a friend without being pounced on?”

Lance flinches, abruptly seeing past his jealousy to the fine line Keith’s walking. “I know what I saw. Sven wants you. He’ll try to break us up.”

Keith just looks at Lance. “You don’t need any help with that.”

Lance recoils. “You said...”

“I love you. But that doesn’t mean I can keep doing this. I can’t keep watching you play your games with other people. Every time you do, I hurt more inside. If this keeps up, there’ll be nothing left but the hurt. Lance -- I can’t stand to keep watching you. You can’t give up the game. This is not going to work. If we try to be lovers for much longer, I won’t be able to be friends with you.”

Lance stares at Keith. “Just like that? No warning, no discussion? You told me before that you thought we’d always be able to keep our friendship, at least…” Sven... You have a lot to answer for.

Keith, his face a mask, dispassionately looks at Lance. “I was wrong. There’s no point in continuing to try. You couldn’t give the game up a month ago. I don’t see how you could change that much in such a short time.” Studying the expression on Lance’s face, Keith allows a bit of humor to leak through. “And don’t go blaming Sven.”

Lance’s eyes go wide. He read me. He read _me_! How did -- ... How can he not know -- “You --”

The brief taste of laughter buried in the surge of stifled love at the befuddled expression on Lance’s face, Keith barely manages to hold onto his control. Interrupting Lance, Keith forces the words out. “We had an agreement. We’d try and if it didn’t work out, we’d split up. It’s not working out. So -- why don’t you just leave?”

“But --”

“Now.” If I give even an inch, he’ll wheedle me into giving him another chance. If we do that, we’ll be beloved or enemies. Lance just isn’t flexible enough for a good chance at all of us staying lovers. And I’d rather not have him for an enemy. Keith steels his face into a cold, indifferent mask.

Stunned at this abrupt change, suddenly unable to see into opaque black eyes, Lance backs out of Keith’s room, an empty ache growing in his chest. He said he loved me. Is this what love means to him?

===============

Yaki-modoshi is tempering the blade. Here, the blade is heated to a lesser temperature than during Yaki-ire, and is again cooled. This process relieves the stresses built up in the blade through the Yaki-ire.

===============

Startled, Keith lifts his head as a hissed argument breaks the peace of the garden he’s hiding in. Moving quietly closer to investigate, ready to break it up, he stills in shock as he hears his own name.

--------------------

Staring at Lance, Sven snorts in disgusted amazement. “You don’t deserve someone like Keith. You treat him like shit and you think that I’m to blame for him leaving you? I’d say that he finally came to his senses.”

Lance glares furiously at Sven. “You encouraged him to break it off like that! If you hadn’t been here, he’d have talked to me first.” Drawing a deep, angry breath, Lance continues. “Besides, there’s no way you can convince anyone -- except maybe him -- that you gave him objective advice. You want him as your lover again.”

Face hardening to a cool mask, Sven raises one eyebrow. “And if I do? I’d certainly treat him better than you did...”

Shoulders hunching, Lance spits out words as if they were weapons. “You don’t know anything about how we were. You weren’t here the whole time we were together, and the moment you came back, you tore us apart.”

Sven smiles icily in contempt. “How you handle your lovers is no secret. Besides, if your pairing was so delicate as to be disrupted by me, what makes you think it would have lasted much longer?”

Lance becomes blank with fury. Taking a slow, even breath, he prepares to tear Sven to shreds with his words, only to be interrupted.

A cold whisper turns both of them around sharply in shock. Keith has managed to recover, somewhat, from his surprise. “Both of you. I don’t believe it. Both of you have been playing me for a fool.” Black eyes with the cold of space in them freeze the two combatants into a moment of shared, horrified silence. “Sven...” If possible, the quiet voice gets even colder. “At least Lance was up-front. At least, with Lance I knew exactly what was going to happen. You...”

Sven flinches helplessly. “Keith, please... It’s not --”

“What I think it is? Really?”

Sven winces at the biting contempt, but gathers himself just enough to begin to protest. “Keith, it was --” His voice dies as the look on Keith’s face intensifies.

After a moment of cold contemplation, Keith continues. “For my own good? So I don’t end up with the ‘wrong’ person? Thanks Sven. I appreciate your caring.”

Sven shudders, silenced.

Shaking, sure that this is a bad time, but not quite able to keep himself from trying, Lance starts to open his mouth -- only to snap it shut as Keith turns his gaze on him.

“You think just because Sven was wrong means I’m willing to take a chance with you again? I don’t think so. There’s only so much I can change. And I can’t stand to share you. Not the way you want me to.”

Hesitantly, Lance opens his mouth. “We should talk...” Seeing the look that blooms in Keith’s eyes, he realizes that he has mis-stepped, badly.

“No more. I refuse. Right now, I’d rather end up alone than on a deserted planet with either of you. Alone and injured.”

Keith’s mouth curves upward in a bitter smile of appreciation as he sees the reaction his two former lovers have. And he stalks off before either of them can think of anything to say.

===============

Kaijitogi is the rough polishing performed by the swordsmith himself -- and it is the last step undertaken by the swordsmith before the togishi takes over. This rough polishing includes matters such as filing the nakago (tang), inscribing his mei (signature), drilling the hole in the nakago for the mekugi (retaining peg), and adding any decorative hi (grooves) or horimono (decorative carvings). At this time, sorinaoshi is also performed, which is adjusting the curvature of the blade, keeping in mind the fact that the curve will increase with further work on the blade.

===============

“You three will be going to Hephastion. Details are on your mission disks. Keith, you have command; Sven is your second.”

“Sir --”

“I don’t know what happened between the three of you and I don’t care. You three are at the top of your class and you _will_ learn to work together. Is that clear?”

“Yessir!” Three voices ring out in unison, though the body language of all three screams refusal.

Their instructor watches three stiff backs leave his room, and indulges in a sigh of disgust before summoning the next group.

--------------------

Moving in cold precision, Sven carefully packs his holdall. Rather grimly, he smiles. At least now, Keith _has_ to talk to me.

--------------------

Flinging his gear together, Lance can feel a soul deep anger rising inexorably inside him. Taking deep breaths, he tries fruitlessly for calm. I'm not going to be able to take this. Who-knows-how-long stuck on that planet while we catalogue mineral deposits and avoid hazardous weather. Stuck with Keith. Just thinking about his estranged love brings his anger perilously close to the surface. And oh-so-perfect Sven. Teeth clenching, Lance forces himself to concentrate on the mechanics of learning the geography of Hephastion.

--------------------

Eyes firmly fixed on the sulfurous ball of a planet slowly growing larger in their view screen, Keith finally breaks the silence. “I will do the soil and mineral sampling, as well as the specimen collection. The two of you will track weather patterns, and take the air samples at different levels from the surface.”

Sven opens his mouth to protest, recovering a fraction faster than Lance.

Keith’s sharp gesture silences them both. His voice is ice-cold; his eyes are still locked on the view screen. “I’ll take a tracking and communication device, and check in once a day at 2000, planet time. If you need to contact me, you can. If you contact me just to ‘chat’, I’ll start responding with a page. You will come with fresh gear for me every 1.5 months standard. At three months standard, you will take me to the other continent. Clear?”

Lance snarls, sarcasm heavy, “Yes, Commander Shingane. Of course, Commander Shingane. Clear as Arusian water, Commander Shingane.”

Keith doesn’t turn around, but the quality of his silence rebukes Lance. And the temperature seems to drop a few more degrees.

Into the choking quiet, Sven manages a strangled, “Yessir.”

Keith nods, satisfied, and continues to refuse to look at either of them.

--------------------

Taking in a slow, deep breath of canned air, Keith lets the tension flow from him. Alone, at last. No Sven. No Lance. No reminders of what was or what could be. All there is, is the work. Settling into the almost mindless task of sample gathering, Keith smiles fully for the first time in a long while.

--------------------

Tense silence envelopes the small space-craft. Lance, lips tight, focuses intently on the controls. Sven, face and body as unruffled as stone, focuses equally intently on his instrument readings.

Unspoken anger and barely bridled frustration rise another notch.

===============

Shitajitogi is the foundation polishing. This is usually performed by apprentice togishi. This process can take several days to finish. The stones used are named Arato, Binsui, and Kaisei, in finer and finer grit, each stone erasing the damage from the last.

===============

Three months pass with agonizing slowness for Sven and Lance. Through utter boredom, they begin to talk and listen to each other for the first time.

--------------------

Growling, unable to contain himself, Lance glares in frustration at his scans. “I can’t believe he did this! This weather mapping and air sampling ought to be done by one person -- the mineral and specimen samples ought to have at least two people working on it to be efficient…”

By now, enough of Sven is worried about Keith being by himself on the inhospitable planet surface that he actually nods in agreement and unbends enough to talk. "I have never seen him this furious for so long." Sven swallows, watching the small figure on their viewscreens. "He loves to fly. Also, he usually tempers his punishments, leaving his punishees an out so that they can save face. This time, he didn't give us any. The only choices we have other than tolerating each other is making him angry by landing or making him worried and angry by crashing."

Swallowing, Lance nods. “Yeah…” I didn’t think he realized the implications of Keith’s choice of assignments… Maybe he does know Keith as well as he thinks he does…

The deep hurt in that one word shocks Sven. He sounds as though what Keith thinks really matters to him… Pulling out of his absorption with the weather patterns and Keith, Sven realizes for the first time just how worn Lance appears. In the past several months, when Keith’s not been speaking to either of us, he has to have lost at least 20 pounds. That uniform used to be tighter on him…

Feeling Sven’s evaluating stare like bugs crawling slowly across his skin, Lance looks up and glares. “What.”

Blinking, Sven shakes his head, an inscrutable look firmly in place. “Nothing.” Maybe I misjudged you…

--------------------

Groaning, Keith trudges slowly to the pickup point. Gods. This is almost too much. Hesitating, he almost considers relenting. No. Not when just the memory of their faces is enough to make me feel sick. Stupidly trusting, that’s what I was. Nodding to himself, he moves with more purpose, if not more energy. I can do this. Just because I’m on the ship with them, briefly, doesn’t mean I have to actually say anything to them… We’re still on time. And even the thought of hearing their voices, or breathing the same air as either of them hurts.

===============

Intermediate Polishing consists of two stages.

The first stage involves nagura stones. The two types of nagura stones are chu-nagura and koma-nagura. Again, koma-nagura has a finer grit than chu-nagura.

At the second stage of intermediate polishing, the tagishi must watch out for defects that could cause scratches in the blade. This stage uses uchigumori stones. There are two types of uchigumori stones. Uchigumori-ha-to is used on the entire blade to smooth away remaining scratches and to clarify the hamon. Uchigumori-ji-to is used only on the edge and the sides to show the jihada to greater advantage.

From this point on, the mune and the area above the shinogi (ridgeline) will no longer be polished. Rather, they will be burnished to a bright finish.

===============

Another month and a half, and both Sven and Lance, each in their own ways, are about to crawl up the walls of their tiny craft and leave their sanity behind. Every possible air sample has been done. All the atmosphere readings have been finished. The ship is automatically tracking the weather patterns -- and there is only so much playing with that program that can be done without crashing the system. Sven has already skirted the edge more times than either of them want to count. Lance has almost-crashed the small ship so many times that Sven doesn’t even flinch when the alerts are triggered.

All that is left for them is to obsessively watch one small suited figure slowly pattern-walking over the surface of the planet. The shared worry as that small figure moves fearlessly and inexorably into, around, and out of dangerous ground formations builds the very beginnings of understanding between them. Neither is ready to admit friendship, but shared worry over Keith leads them to find out that they have more in common than they thought.

And the finding of common interests uses up a bit more of the time weighing on them.

--------------------

Even knowing he looks absurd, Sven can’t help but glare at his obnoxious teammate. “There is no way that Sen Tataran would be able to defeat Satesu Shiage in the upcoming trials.”

Lance snorts. “Shiage will defeat Tataran -- but only in the pure forms. Tataran has more passion. Therefore, he has the edge in practical fighting. And practical fighting weighs more.”

Sven shakes his head stubbornly. “Shiage has the greater skill.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Look, just take it to a personal level -- why does Keith always manage to defeat you in competition, even though you’re far better form-wise than he is?”

Because I lust after him, and can’t concentrate on battle tactics when he’s my opponent. The sudden thought enough to discombobulate him, Sven reddens.

Lance grins evilly. “And no, saying you’re ogling him isn’t going to cut it. He’d still win.”

Sven’s blush strengthens. No bloody wonder he can destroy his lovers. I haven’t blushed like this in years, and he manages to embarrass me in less than a minute. The grudging respect he has for Lance grows stronger. Not even Keith sees through me this easily.

Eyes becoming distant, voice softening, Lance keeps talking, seemingly to himself. “Keith never fights with mechanical precision. He fights with all the passion that’s in him. That’s why he’s so good, and why he makes such a great leader…”

Breath catching at the sheer longing in those words, longing that matches his own, soft words are pulled involuntarily from Sven. “And he doesn’t even see it. He doesn’t realize just what it is that draws people to him.”

“Blind as a bat.” Mouth compressing, Lance shakes off the solemn mood. “And I wish this bat would get over his snit!”

Nodding, Sven settles in for some serious complaining about their stupidly fearless leader.

--------------------

Wearily trudging through yet another cave, Keith can feel fatigue breaking down his anger and hurt. Maybe enough is enough. They’ve got to be just about ready to hole the ship in frustration. If they do that, we’ll be stuck together even longer… I wonder if they’ve figured out each other’s virtues yet… I wonder if they talk about me…

Distracted and tired, Keith doesn’t notice the danger until a few moments too late. Oh, SHIT--

--------------------

“I never knew he’d treasure a grudge like this! I mean, I’ve seen him angry and stubborn -- but I’ve never seen him go into anything like this arctic ice mood. And I’ve never known him to dwell on negative emotions for this long. He usually gets back on an even keel with a few days, or a few weeks at most.” Throughout his ranting, Lance is gesturing widely, only paying enough attention to the controls to be sure they’re still in vaguely the right airspace.

Sven just barely manages to keep from laughing at Lance’s dramatics. A lopsided smugness rising in him, he can’t keep from speaking. “You can’t be that close to him, if you haven’t seen his ice mood even once. His memory’s phenomenal for more than just bookwork. He might forgive but he never, ever forgets.” Narrowing his eyes at Lance, catching the other’s start and brief flash of skewed cockiness, Sven suddenly has a sickening realization that destroys his smugness. “But you already knew that.”

Twitching in embarrassment that he gave the game away, Lance shrugs uneasily. “Yeah. I know. But he usually forgives by now…” Swallowing hard, eyes going distant and very hurt, Lance clutches convulsively on the controls in front of him. “I wish I could go back in time. But I can’t. Now, I just want him to forgive.”

Sven nods slowly in agreement. “I as well…” Before he can continue, the telltales in Keith’s suit start shrilling their alarm. Swiveling rapidly around, he looks at the instrumentation and pales. “We need to get to him now.”

Wrenching his mind into the proper direction, Lance spares one moment to look at the instrumentation himself before flying the ship just within her tolerances to get to Keith as soon as he can.

Wordlessly, Sven rapidly begins suiting up.

--------------------

Landing, Lance curses as he watches Sven bolt out the doors. In frantic haste, he forces himself to slow down and check everything. They don’t need the hassle of more than one of them out of commission.

Finally finishing suiting up, he scrambles out the door.

--------------------

Shaking slightly, Sven picks his way through the unstable rock to where Keith lays. One arm of the suit is torn, slowly leaking precious air. From the position, it’s clear that that arm is broken, badly. And Keith is entirely too still -- the only reason Sven knows Keith is still alive is that his suit is still transmitting his vital signs to them.

Dropping carefully down next to Keith, Sven rapidly runs a scanner over his body, checking for more dangerous injuries. With no sign of a spinal injury, Sven relaxes a bit, and turns Keith over as gently as he can. Biting his lip, Sven takes a deep breath for calm when Keith doesn’t even moan in pain, though the movement should have hurt his broken arm badly.

A rattle of rocks, and Lance is suddenly there, portable stretcher clattering down next to him. Wordlessly, the two of them clear the rubble from Keith, patch his suit, and cautiously strap him into the stretcher.

The trip back to the ship is made in utter silence.

--------------------

Slitting his eyes open, Keith winces away from the bright lights. Where…?

A cool hand closes over his. A dark, soothing voice murmurs quietly to him, telling him to rest. Hot hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp.

Keith sinks back to sleep, the persistent hurts deep inside easing.

--------------------

Trembling, Lance has to force himself to speak. “Will he be okay?”

Biting his lip, Sven concentrates on the readings in front of him. “The autodoc’s not picking up anything other than the broken arm.”

Lance’s nostrils flare. “Then why didn’t he say anything? Respond to us?”

Sven makes an abrupt and angry motion with his hands. “I don’t know. But Keith’s been working himself hard.”

“And he’s under emotional stress, yeah.” Lance sighs. “I just want to be sure… Even if he’s mad at me, I don’t want to lose the Keith I know.”

Sven nods.

Both of them tighten their hold on their commander.

--------------------

Swimming slowly to consciousness, Keith feels complete. Afraid to move, to even open his eyes, he basks in the feeling even as he tries to figure out why he feels the way he does. Slowly, he realizes. It’s the warmth. Warm breath brushing against my cheek -- just at the right tempo to be Lance, even if it’s at an odd angle, as if he’s above me for some reason… And warmth that feels like Sven at my side -- one hand only touching me, as if he’s afraid to overstep and get too close. Though, why would he be so far down along my side… Gathering up his courage, Keith prepares to open his eyes and destroy this bubble of fantasy. There’s no way both of them would be this close to me. They never could stand to be that close to each other… Forcing his eyes open, Keith lets the dazzling light hide what there is to see for a few moments more. And then his shocked gasp wakens his two teammates.

--------------------

Sitting bolt upright, both of them reach reflexively for Keith. Both freeze in place as they see the awareness in his huge black eyes.

--------------------

Black eyes roving from one to the other, Keith attempts to reach for them. Eyes growing even bigger, he runs his right hand wonderingly over his casted left arm. Still off balance from the head injury, he murmurs his surprise. “It’s not a dream…” Abruptly, his face closes off in a smooth mask -- but he can’t quite control his eyes, just as he can’t quite keep from flinching, certain that his two former lovers won’t take kindly to him wanting both of them at once.

--------------------

Shocked, Sven can feel stone masquerading as his face, even as his thoughts whirl in confusion. He still wants me. He still loves me! But… he wants him too? Torn between elation and depression, Sven gives up on trying to meet Keith’s eyes. Slowly, hesitating, he meets Lance’s calculating gaze. For Keith…. If Lance is willing to share, to make him happy…

--------------------

Freezing in place, Lance manages to keep his jaw from gaping very unattractively. By all the Gods and Goddesses… Keith wants us both. Swallowing his disappointment, he forces himself to admit it. Keith loves us both. Joy beginning to swell inside, Lance thoughtfully considers Sven. Prideful. Very prideful. Not arrogant, but in a way, that’s almost better. He was _very_ fun to needle… For Keith… Looking at Sven, Lance asks the question with a tilt of his eyebrows, his hazel eyes very serious.

Dark brown eyes meet his for a long moment, and then, Sven nods.

As one, they turn to Keith.

--------------------

Castigating himself, Keith is oblivious to the unspoken agreement reached above his head. How could I let myself slip like that? And I complain about them being manipulative and hiding their motivations. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he starts to chatter. "So. I’m sure that most of the atmospheric readings have been done. Because of this arm, I can’t keep doing the planet-side work, I’ll stay on the ship and the two of you can finish up the rest of the surveillance, and then we can go home.” Studying his determinedly relaxed hands intensely, Keith stiffens, hoping that Sven and Lance will follow his lead and just ignore the confession he’d blurted out.

A long pause, during which Lance and Sven exchange glances above Keith’s bowed head, and then Sven speaks. “We could do that. But, it might be better if we all stayed together.” And we can keep an eye on you.

Swallowing hard, Keith can feel his cheeks heating painfully. “I… Between the concussion’s effects and this broken arm, I’m useless planet-side. Why should I be there, when I can still handle the ship like this?” I can’t believe you want me there, not after I deceived you both…

Hands tightening on him surprise him enough that he looks up, catching Sven’s steady gaze. “There’s nothing left that must be done on the ship.”

Lance’s hands stroke soothingly through Keith’s hair, even as Sven gently starts kneading Keith’s free hand. “And we’d like for you to be with us.”

Shaking slightly, catching Sven’s head-tip of agreement, Keith slowly relaxes, eyes shutting in pleasure at the scalp and hand massage. They’re so much easier with each other now. They don’t seem to mind that I want both of them… Maybe I wasn’t as obvious as I thought I was?

When Keith’s almost boneless and purring, Lance hesitantly speaks. “Keith…” Lance licks his lips nervously. Maybe I’m reading him wrong… Catching Sven’s nod of encouragement, Lance stills himself, taking a deep breath for courage and calmness. “Keith, both of us love you. If you… If you’re willing to share us, we’re willing to share you…”

Sven manages a quiet addition, even though inside he’s wire-tight with hope. “When you forgive us.”

Incredulously, Keith glances at one, and then the other, reading their sincerity. Hesitating, Keith decides to answer the easier question first. “I forgive you , if you forgive me. After throwing this huge snit because you don’t tell the truth, I go and do the same.”

Smiling wryly, Lance gently takes a hold of Keith’s chin and forces his head up. “Yeah, well. You never really went beyond thought. Unlike us. So. You’re forgiven.”

Sven nods. Lifting a calm eyebrow, he captures Keith’s eyes with his own. “And our proposal?”

Narrowing his eyes, searching for truth in the dark brown depths, Keith aims for the greatest insecurity in his friend. “Can you stand knowing that Lance and I are close in a way that you can’t ever be? That you’ll always, in some way, be on the outside of what the two of us have?”

Complete conviction in his eyes, Sven doesn’t waver. “I know who I love and why. And what we have together, Lance will never know either.”

One last searching look, and then, Keith smiles, dazzling Sven. Smile dimming, Keith takes a deep breath, and faces Lance squarely. “I have to know who your extra lovers are going to be --“

Lance interrupts, eyes intent. “Sven, and Sven alone.”

Wide-eyed Keith stares at Lance, completely shocked. “You said he wasn’t your type.”

Lance grins sheepishly. “I said you weren’t my type either.” Face utterly serious, he wills Keith to accept what he says. “I think, with Sven, it will last longer precisely because he isn’t really a worthless person under his pride. The others -- the breaking was fun, but it didn’t really fulfill the need. Just kept the need from taking me over. With Sven… Sven will fulfill the need, but I couldn’t possibly break him.”

Uneasy, Sven snorts. “I’m not that special.”

Both Keith and Lance look at him, look at each other, and start sniggering.

Sven manages an affronted expression, before he too starts to laugh.

Ending up a warm tangle of limbs, Keith in the center, a pregnant silence envelopes them.

Warm arms and legs tightening around him, Keith grins as two throats clear simultaneously. Taking pity on them, Keith relaxes into their hold and gives his answer.

“Yes.”

===============

Shiagetogi or the finish polishing is done with ‘finger stones’ -- small pieces of stone that are glued onto translucent paper and lacquered together to form thin wafers. These stones highlight the subtle features of a blade. Often, they are used to darken the blade so that intrinsic design can show brighter against the darker background.

===============

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was. - Anonymous

--------------------

Lance, I wish you wouldn’t do things like this. Not waiting for the rest of just weakens us all. Now we’ve lost two people not just one. Keith’s face is tense as he tries to coax more speed out of Black Lion. If only the Princess was ugly, we’d have fewer problems...

Finally arriving, he takes in the scene before him. Lance is taunting Lotor, and the two of them are trading blows and sword strokes, looking almost as if they’re dancing. Oh, no. NO. I thought this was all over. I should have known better. Ever since… Shaking off that thought, for a moment, Keith’s face shows dark despair, until he regains control. Maybe I’m wrong. Either way, first we have to get the Princess out of there.

Moving quickly, he gets out of Black, and approaches the small group. “Freeze, Lotor.” Hunk and Pidge are behind him, backing him up.

Lance and Lotor both leap away from each other and turn to face the rest of the team. Allura is tied up behind and to one side of the combatants.

“The cavalry arrives. ‘Bout time you guys showed up.” Lance’s voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it. And he’s even tenser than he was during the fight.

Keith’s mouth tightens. I know you, Lance. That look is in your eyes. Part of you is wishing that we never showed up. His eyes flick to Lotor. Bah. Of all the possiblities, you had to choose Lotor?

With a flick of his fingers, Keith gestures to Pidge to free the Princess. Catching sight of that, Lotor mouths some of his usual threats, but his eyes are locked on Lance. So softly that no one else can hear, Keith growls. When Lance still refuses to disengage after Allura scrambles to safety, Keith raises his voice. “Lance! Come on!” Not now, Lance. Play later, if you must.

Disregarding Keith’s call, Lance raises his sword in challenge to Lotor, and resets his stance.

Keith’s eyes blaze. “Lance! Now is not the time. We’re getting out of here, and that’s an order.” How can you do this, right in front of me? You know how I feel about it… Keith watches, frail hope dying inside, as with every move Lance makes, he betrays his attraction to the besotted Lotor. Lotor, whose triumphant laughter chases after them as the Voltron force makes their escape. Finding a bit of dark humor, Keith’s mouth twists upward slightly. Lotor, you have no idea what you’re getting into. I could almost pity you.

--------------------

The flight back to Arus is very quiet. Allura is riding in Green Lion; Hunk and Pidge take turns comforting her. Keith and Lance don’t speak at all.

--------------------

Back at the castle, Allura is bundled off by Nanny to be cosseted and fussed over. Pidge and Hunk go to find something to eat.

Lance makes a move to follow them, and Keith grabs his arm, eyes glittering in anger. “We have to talk --”

Lance, with a hunted look, pulls away. “Later, okay? I’m so hungry...” I don’t want to talk. I can’t believe I acted like that... Lotor’s figured it out, and he’s going to escalate this... How could I have done this to Keith? As long as it was low-level, as long as Lotor didn’t get it, I could control the need, could keep it from spilling out enough for either Keith or Lotor to notice.... How did I miscalculate so badly?

Keith’s eyes narrow. “Fine. Later.” Sticking your head in the sand? It’s been a while, but don’t try to even pretend with me that you don’t know what you’re doing. Glowering at Lance’s rapid retreat, hurt burns deep inside Keith.

--------------------

Much later that night, Lance carefully sneaks into Keith’s dark room. Only to find Keith sitting up in a chair, arms crossed, waiting silently for him. Keith raises an eyebrow. Lance flushes. Then his mouth firms, even as he pouts slightly. “I don’t want to talk.” Shifting slightly, his body stance becomes an invitation and a seductive look lights his eyes. “There are better things for us to do...” I remember this used to work… Lance disregards the small voice pointing out just what avoidance led to, last time.

For a moment more, Keith’s face stays closed. Then he softens. “You’re right. Talking won’t make a difference.” It never really did, before. Running his eyes over his wingmate, Keith smiles sourly. And now, you’re too much a part of me to let go without shattering. “We might as well enjoy ourselves.” I’ll take what I can get -- and you, my high-flying partner, will pay for indulging yourself. With that, he flows out of his chair and onto Lance -- cutting off any reply Lance might make.

In seconds, Lance is naked. A few more seconds, Keith is also naked, still controlling all of Lance’s responses. Writhing, Lance comes once up against the door, once on the floor, and finally, the two come together on Keith’s bed.

Exhausted, finally coming down off of his adrenaline high from fighting Lotor, Lance slips toward sleep, coiled together with Keith. Just on the edge of oblivion, he hears Keith whisper fiercely. “Mine.”

Unable to sleep, Keith stares out into the darkness of his room. Cradling Lance, he gently runs his hands over as much of Lance as he can without disturbing him. I’m not what you need right now. My idiot. You’re not the only one to miss him. You’re just desperate enough to think you can replace him. Carefully running his fingers through the long chestnut strands, Keith smiles grimly. You forget, my own, that a replacement has to fit both of us. Body clenching in response to his thoughts, Keith forces himself to relax when Lance murmurs in agitation. No matter how much of your need he fulfills, Lotor does not fit me. So he could never be a proper replacement for him. Courting sleep, Keith carefully pulls out memories of comfort and warmth and wholeness, all etched with aching loss. I suppose the sooner you figure this out, the better. Better experimenting with someone like Lotor rather than, say, Pidge, anyway… Thoughts growing muzzy, Keith finally drifts into dreams, curling tighter around Lance.

--------------------

The next morning, Lance insists that Lotor is going to try something. The rest of the team are still keyed up and paranoid. Extra watches are posted and the whole castle tightens up in preparation for some action.

But as the days pass, most people begin lowering their guard. Lotor doesn’t try anything. The Princess recovers, and starts complaining about people smothering her.

Keith and Lance don’t talk. Every night is spent in frantic lovemaking -- Lance to try to prove himself to Keith, while Keith tries to imprint himself on Lance and remind Lance just what it is he’s risking.

Eventually, even Lance calms down and relaxes somewhat, leaving Keith the only one still high strung with tension.

And then Lotor arrives at the castle, weaponless except for words.

A few snapped orders, and Keith has the guards in place with the Voltron force ready to greet Lotor on the bridge to the castle.

--------------------

Watching Lotor warily, trying to gauge what weapons he might be concealing on his person, Keith challenges him. “What do you think you’re doing here, Lotor?” What do you want? And where’s the trap?

“I’ve come to speak with Princess Allura.” Lotor’s voice is arrogant, even out of his ship and surrounded by guns in the hands of guards with twitchy fingers.

“Then you can turn around and go the way you came, because you’re not getting anywhere near her.” Or Lance. Unless, of course, he wants you to. A sardonic smile flickers across Keith’s face too rapidly for Lotor to notice, focused as he is on Lance.

Lotor shrugs, infuriatingly, looking at Keith, but clearly not paying much attention to him. “That would be a mistake. My terms are your terms. Any you apply, I agree to. I am unarmed, unenchanted. And Allura will want to hear what I have to say.”

Lance’s eyes narrow, as he regards Lotor. So, Allura will want to hear what you say, hmm? “At least this is a new approach. Get bored with losing the old way?”

With the excuse of Lance speaking, Lotor turns his gaze to Lance, and smirks as the pilot recoils, eyes widening. Looking at the ground, Lance hunches his shoulders protectively.

“Lance…” Keith warns. Not now. You used to have a better sense of timing. Maybe the lack of practice makes more of a difference than I thought.

Lotor's smirk gets larger, eyes lingering on Lance. “I will speak with Allura.”

Regaining his composure, Lance tilts his head slightly, daring to meet Lotor’s eyes. “How ‘bout you just give me the message and toddle on home? I’ll be sure to tell the princess you stopped by.” I can’t believe I’m doing this, here and now. With this sad excuse for a Prince... But he is certainly arrogant enough. Lance smothers his good sense prodding him that pride is what he really wants, not overweening arrogance. I need this. This taste before Keith gets rid of him will last a long time, maybe long enough to find something more controlled... Not dropping his gaze, Lance soaks in the ravenous attention Lotor gives. Anytime now, Keith will refuse his request and send him on his way…

Keith’s head snaps around to glare at Lance. You’ve made your choice, then. I’ve been wondering when and with who you’d break. I thought at least the first time temptation struck, the risk of losing me would deter you. Obviously, I mean less to you than I thought. Snarling to himself, pushing his jealousy and hurt deep inside, Keith yanks his mind back on less personal matters. If Lotor really is sincere... No matter what we think of his methods, he is still royalty and as such does have the right to negotiate for Doom with Allura for Arus... “You will submit to all of our terms?”

Hunk and Pidge are outraged, protesting and arguing until cut off by a sharp gesture from Keith.

Lance’s eyes slide slowly shut. I can’t believe Keith is actually willing to let Lotor talk to Allura. I thought I would have more time to regain control. Shaking, even turned away and not looking, Lance can still feel Lotor’s eyes feasting on him. This isn’t right… He’s not right… But it feels so good…

Eyes seeing nothing but Lance, Lotor nods and steps forward to submit to the inspection.

--------------------

At the table, Allura sits across from Lotor, flanked by her wary teammates. Posted at strategic positions throughout the room are guards armed to the teeth. Allura is concentrating completely on Lotor.

“What do you want, Lotor?” Allura’s voice, although hard, is still hopeful.

“To tell you, you need no longer fear. There will be no more abductions. No more threats, no more bargaining. Oh, Doom will continue to attack, of course, but you, personally, are no longer a target.” Lotor’s voice is smug, and arrogant.

Lance snorts. Yeah, right. You’re going to stop just like that? “How dumb do you think we are?”

The smirk on Lotor’s face -- which has been in place the entire visit -- widens as he regards Lance. “I no longer need that tactic. I have already won.” Lotor’s eyes focus intently, freezing Lance in place for a moment before Lotor sets him free -- briefly -- to turn lazily back toward Allura. “You are already mine. You will come to me, so there is no longer any need for me to come to you.”

Flaring with outrage, Allura snaps. “You’re delusional.”

Simultaneously, unnerved by Lotor’s knowing gaze, Lance tosses out the first thing to come to his mind. “Oh, well then. Okay. Nice to know the Princess can take all the unsupervised moonlight strolls she’d like without you interfering.” Even as he babbles, his mind gibbers. Damnit. I’m out of practice. He noticed everything. This whole meeting is about letting me know he noticed and that he wants me too.... Abruptly realizing that his mind has automatically started running old calculations on how to regain the upper hand, Lance catches Keith’s cynical eyes. And recoils. What am I thinking? I won’t do this. This could cost me almost everything that matters… Shaken, Lance desperately fights the need snarling in him.

Though Lance’s face never changes, nevertheless, Keith can tell to the exact second when Lance looses the fight to the urges inside. Hurt blossoming, Keith manages to keep his face bland and embrace the pain. This is how it will be. He needs something I can’t give. Bitterness armoring him, Keith allows only bland attention on his face. I suppose Lotor is the best of bad choices. Anyone closer to what we both need would just make the pain slower and more drawn out -- and ultimately worse. Losing his control for a moment, his lips twist. Not that it doesn’t hurt now.

Chin up, his face his usual arrogant mask, Lotor bows graciously, and walks out of the room as if the armed, nervous guards and the outraged Voltron Force don’t even exist. Satisfaction oozes from him with every movement.

Keith’s eyes narrow as he watches Lotor glide out of the room. Looking back at Lance, Keith can just see the realization sinking in. You were always stubborn, love. But you’ve lost this battle. He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. Now all he has to do is let you reel yourself in. However much you fight, he’s gotten to you. Taking a slow deep breath and letting it out gently, Keith gives up completely. As long as I’m the one you come back to, I’ll be... content. Pulling up his walls and shields, a subtle hardness encases Keith. But I don’t have to like it. Or be gracious about it.

--------------------

After the meeting, Lance manages to break away from the strategizing group of people. They’re sure that Lotor hasn’t really given up. But if he never really wanted the Princess and was actually after me... For a moment, a warm glow fills Lance. No. I am NOT going to think about it. I’m NOT going after him... Abruptly, Lance stops in the hallway. Wait a moment. Where was Keith? I don’t remember seeing him since that confrontation with Lotor... I can’t believe I didn’t notice when he left... Blanching, Lance hurries to Keith’s room. Once inside, he looks frantically about. Nobody is there. His heart stuttering in fear, Lance all but runs to his rooms.

Rushing inside, he stops, eyes widening at the sight of an absolutely still Keith. His face is hard and cold. His eyes are unreadable. Lance turns away in despair and anger, remembering the last time he saw Keith like this. I’m sorry. “I’m not going to him. I won’t!” Did that sound as weak as I thought?

Keith just shakes his head. I know you. A wall of ice in his eyes, he asks dryly, “Why fight it? You know how you are and I know how you are. Just go to him, and get it over with.”

“Keith -- ” I can’t read him... Lotor’s not worth losing what we have. No matter how strong the urge…

“Go.” Keith’s face tightens. He pauses for one terrible moment. “I’ll be here. You know that.”

Lance shuts his eyes. I thought that any more of this, and he would end everything.... Swallowing hard, he whispers. “Thank you...”

Keith’s face is still closed. Voice clinically detached he continues as if Lance never spoke. “You’d better not take Red Lion. There’s an extra ship I stowed for emergencies in storeroom 8.” His eyes narrow. “The sooner you’re gone, the sooner you’ll be back.” With those words that are half threat and half promise, he turns around and leaves.

Lance opens his eyes to watch Keith walk away. Forgive me...

--------------------

Flying to the beacon that Lotor, oh so kindly left for him, Lance feels his anger and fear rising, both feeding his desire. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m going to Lotor rather than Keith. I can’t believe I risked everything I have with Keith for this… this shadow Lotor offers.

Finding the house, Lance cautiously steps in, met by a triumphant Lotor. The look of possession in Lotor’s eyes stops Lance cold, three steps in. No way. NO WAY. You do NOT own me. Forcing Lotor to come to him, at least this much, Lance watches with bittersweet pleasure as Lotor’s expression changes from triumph to pure animal pleasure. I am here. As you wanted. But I think you’re in for a shock, my fine prince. Giving in to the pleasure and the anger, Lance stops teasing and turns on Lotor, taking control.

Several hours later, Lance pulls away, dresses, and leaves without a word or a look back. You thought you owned me. You’re wrong. I own you. Maybe you’ll see me again, maybe not. My choice, now. Boarding his ship, Lance launches. Only one person holds me, heart and soul.

===============

The Saya (scabbard) is traditionally used to protect the blade from the environment, and are made from the wood from the ho (magnolia) tree.

There are two types of saya, koshirae and shira-zaya. Koshirae usually consist of beautifully lacquered saya accompanied by decorative metal fittings such as menuki, fuchi, and kashira. Shira-zaya (white scabbard) consist of plain, unfinished wood. The shira-zaya was used for storage of the blade, while the koshirae fittings were utilized when the sword was worn in public.

A saya must meet several criteria in order to be considered acceptable.

First, it must precisely fit the blade that it is made for. A poor fit could result in damage to the blade or its cutting edge. The only part of the blade that actually touches the saya interior will be the burnished surface of the mune. The actual cutting edge of the blade should not rub against any of the saya's interior.

Secondly, its seams must fit tightly so as to keep out dirt and moisture, yet be easily pulled apart for occasional cleaning of the interior. The glue used for this is made from one or two-day old rice. Rice glue is used because it's strong, but not so strong as to prevent the saya from being separated again for occasional cleaning of its interior.

After the wood is polished, the saya is wrapped in "nishi no uchi" paper (a coarse textured paper) and returned to the togishi or the sword's owner.

===============

Summoning a serene expression to his face, Keith focuses his attention on the ragged figure before him. The fact that Lance is fairly vibrating with outrage doesn’t help Keith’s calm as he watches the Princess of Pollux fawning over his Sven.

Lance does his best not to betray his anger. Is this some sort of cosmic balance? I show Avok his proper place, and in retaliation, his sister takes Sven from us? Frowning, Lance catalogues all the surface changes in their once elegant and refined lover, wondering what deeper changes it signals. And, if this is because of Lotor, then I should have done much worse to him… Controlling himself with a great deal of effort, he lets Keith approach this familiar stranger first.

--------------------

Shaking, Sven clenches his fist. I never wanted him to see me like this. Either of them, actually. Abandoning his attempt to hide by using Romelle, he moves forward to meet his lover and captain. “Keith." At least my voice didn’t shake.

“Sven. It’s good to see you again.” Good to hear you, feel your presence. Keith pours all the welcome and love that he can into his voice and his eyes. Stay with us, please.

That rich voice sending shivers down his spine, Sven can almost believe the seductive promise that things can be the same -- that they can achieve the same balance they had before. “It’s been a long time.” Hesitating, Sven forces himself to meet those black eyes as he gives up on his dream. “I can’t fly Blue. Not any more.” Face tightening, he keeps his voice from shaking by sheer force of will. Speaking as plainly as he can, he looks past Keith to meet Lance’s eyes. “Lotor broke me. I will never forget that. I can never trust myself to fight in a lion.” Swallowing, unable to read past the sudden blankness in Lance’s eyes, unable to bear to look into Keith’s eyes, Sven focuses on the dawning horror in Hunk’s and Pidge’s faces. “On the ground, if I fail, at least I won’t cost you your lives.”

Opening their mouths to protest immediately, they stop in surprise at Keith’s swift movement.

A warm hand cupping Sven’s cheek shocks Sven into meeting Keith’s eyes, and Keith’s clear voice surrounds him. “Do what you have to. You will always be a part of us.”

Stilling, eyes widening, shock flashing unchecked across his face, Sven reads the vow that speaks for more than his place on the Voltron force.

Moving forward finally, now that contact has been established, Lance settles just behind Keith’s right shoulder. “Don’t ever forget that.” Serious hazel eyes blaze a promise to Sven just as potent as Keith’s.

Stunned, feeling the beginnings of peace and hope rising in him, Sven nods.

===============

Throughout history, the Japanese sword has had no equal. Its cutting edge is said to be sharper than any other blade in the world. To this day, metallurgists have never been able to exactly duplicate the steel found in these marvelous works of art. The sword is known as the "soul of the Samurai", and in Japanese mythology it was one of the three sacred gifts given to the emperor by the Sun Goddess as a token of legitimate authority.

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~Owari~

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Disclaimer: WEPownsVoltron.

Warning: Graphic NC-17. (yes, the rest of the series was fairly benign, especially for how I've been writing lately, but this… this wanted to be graphic. PWP graphic. Meaningless smut. And I’ve given up arguing with my muse…. {muse nods in satisfaction} {sigh})

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Epilogue

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Shiagemigaki, finish polishing, is the final step in saya construction. It involves polishing the wood with ibota powder, which is rubbed into the wood surface with pieces of tokusa (horsetail reed). This combination of materials provides a finer polish than any sandpaper could.

===============

Arms stretched above his head, restrained solely by his willpower, Sven shudders. Warm tongues trace wet patterns across his body. Warm limbs roam freely, his two lovers showing their teamwork in the astonishing way they manage to never touch each other, only him.

A hot mouth fastens on his cock, warm lips nibble and bite delicately at his neck.

Shuddering, Sven gives in to the urge to feel, one hand lacing into the thick soft strands of hair behind him, one hand sinking into black silk in front of him. His legs coil forward, wrapping themselves around the torso between them.

Slender fingers touch him delicately, cool with oil. Slowly, sensuously, they open him up, readying him.

The mouth leaves his cock, a warm slick hand replacing it.

Moaning, finally, Sven lets his hands slide down his lovers’ body.

Gently, the blunt tip of cock nudges its way into his body, even as his own is pushed into another’s body. Warm lips roam his neck, biting down; hot hands wrap around him, holding him steady. A delicate tongue tip traces his closed eyelids, reminding him who he’s with, if he needed it, warm hands stroke down his back. Legs entwine together.

Caught between his two lovers, all Sven can do is rock in between them. All he can feel is their focused attention purely on him.

Movements becoming more urgent, cries become louder, the rhythm hastens. Passion spirals wide, and explodes.

In the blinding flash of completion, surrounded, for the first time since he left Arus, Sven feels whole.

~owari~